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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7828.txt b/7828.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90e4fc5 --- /dev/null +++ b/7828.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10261 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Web of Life, by Robert Herrick + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Web of Life + +Author: Robert Herrick + +Posting Date: August 20, 2012 [EBook #7828] +Release Date: April, 2005 +First Posted: May 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEB OF LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Eric Eldred and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + +THE WEB OF LIFE + +BY + +ROBERT HERRICK + + +AUTHOR OF "THE GOSPEL OF FREEDOM," "THE MAN WHO WINS," +"LITERARY LOVE-LETTERS AND OTHER STORIES" + + +TO G. R. C. + + + "_Hear from the spirit world this mystery: + Creation is summed up, O man, in thee; + Angel and demon, man and beast, art thou, + Yea, thou art all thou dost appear to be!_" + + + + +THE WEB OF LIFE + + + + +PART I + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The young surgeon examined the man as he lay on the hospital chair in which +ward attendants had left him. The surgeon's fingers touched him deftly, +here and there, as if to test the endurance of the flesh he had to deal +with. The head nurse followed his swift movements, wearily moving an +incandescent light hither and thither, observing the surgeon with languid +interest. Another nurse, much younger, without the "black band," watched +the surgeon from the foot of the cot. Beads of perspiration chased +themselves down her pale face, caused less by sympathy than by sheer +weariness and heat. The small receiving room of St. Isidore's was close and +stuffy, surcharged with odors of iodoform and ether. The Chicago spring, so +long delayed, had blazed with a sudden fury the last week in March, and now +at ten o'clock not a capful of air strayed into the room, even through the +open windows that faced the lake. + +The patient groaned when the surgeon's fingers first touched him, then +relapsed into the spluttering, labored respiration of a man in liquor or in +heavy pain. A stolid young man who carried the case of instruments freshly +steaming from their antiseptic bath made an observation which the surgeon +apparently did not hear. He was thinking, now, his thin face set in a +frown, the upper teeth biting hard over the under lip and drawing up the +pointed beard. While he thought, he watched the man extended on the chair, +watched him like an alert cat, to extract from him some hint as to what he +should do. This absorption seemed to ignore completely the other occupants +of the room, of whom he was the central, commanding figure. The head nurse +held the lamp carelessly, resting her hand over one hip thrown out, her +figure drooping into an ungainly pose. She gazed at the surgeon steadily, +as if puzzled at his intense preoccupation over the common case of a man +"shot in a row." Her eyes travelled over the surgeon's neat-fitting evening +dress, which was so bizarre here in the dingy receiving room, redolent of +bloody tasks. Evidently he had been out to some dinner or party, and when +the injured man was brought in had merely donned his rumpled linen jacket +with its right sleeve half torn from the socket. A spot of blood had +already spurted into the white bosom of his shirt, smearing its way over +the pearl button, and running under the crisp fold of the shirt. The head +nurse was too tired and listless to be impatient, but she had been called +out of hours on this emergency case, and she was not used to the surgeon's +preoccupation. Such things usually went off rapidly at St. Isidore's, and +she could hear the tinkle of the bell as the hall door opened for another +case. It would be midnight before she could get back to bed! The hospital +was short-handed, as usual. + +The younger nurse was not watching the patient, nor the good-looking young +surgeon, who seemed to be the special property of her superior. Even in her +few months of training she had learned to keep herself calm and +serviceable, and not to let her mind speculate idly. She was gazing out of +the window into the dull night. Some locomotives in the railroad yards just +outside were puffing lazily, breathing themselves deeply in the damp, +spring air. One hoarser note than the others struck familiarly on the +nurse's ear. That was the voice of the engine on the ten-thirty through +express, which was waiting to take its train to the east. She knew that +engine's throb, for it was the engine that stood in the yards every evening +while she made her first rounds for the night. It was the one which took +_her_ train round the southern end of the lake, across the sandy +fields, to Michigan, to her home. + +The engine puffed away, and she withdrew her gaze and glanced at the +patient. To her, too, the wounded man was but a case, another error of +humanity that had come to St. Isidore's for temporary repairs, to start +once more on its erring course, or, perhaps, to go forth unfinished, +remanded just there to death. The ten-thirty express was now pulling out +through the yards in a powerful clamor of clattering switches and hearty +pulsations that shook the flimsy walls of St. Isidore's, and drew new +groans from the man on the chair. The young nurse's eyes travelled from him +to a woman who stood behind the ward tenders, shielded by them and the +young interne from the group about the hospital chair. This woman, having +no uniform of any sort, must be some one who had come in with the patient, +and had stayed unobserved in the disorder of a night case. + +Suddenly the surgeon spoke; his words shot out at the head nurse. + +"We will operate now!" + +The interne shrugged his shoulders, but he busied himself in selecting and +wiping the instruments. Yet in spite of his decisive words the surgeon +seemed to hesitate. + +"Was there any one with this man,--any friend?" he asked the head nurse. + +In reply she looked around vaguely, her mind thrown out of gear by this +unexpected delay. Another freak of the handsome surgeon! + +"Any relative or friend?" the surgeon iterated peremptorily, looking about +at the attendants. + +The little nurse at the foot of the patient, who was not impressed by the +irregularity of the surgeon's request, pointed mutely to the figure behind +the ward tenders. The surgeon wheeled about and glanced almost savagely at +the woman, his eyes travelling swiftly from her head to her feet. The woman +thus directly questioned by the comprehending glance returned his look +freely, resentfully. At last when the surgeon's eyes rested once more on +her face, this time more gently, she answered: + +"I am his wife." + +This statement in some way humanized the scene. The ward tenders and the +interne stared at her blankly; the nurses looked down in unconscious +comment on the twisted figure by their side. The surgeon drew his hands +from his pockets and stepped toward the woman, questioning her meanwhile +with his nervous, piercing glance. For a moment neither spoke, but some +kind of mute explanation seemed to be going on between them. + +She kept her face level with his, revealing it bravely, perhaps defiantly. +Its tense expression, with a few misery-laden lines, answered back to the +inquiry of the nonchalant outsiders: 'Yes, I am his wife, _his_ wife, +the _wife_ of the object over there, brought here to the hospital, +shot in a saloon brawl.' And the surgeon's face, alive with a new +preoccupation, seemed to reply: 'Yes, I know! You need not pain yourself by +telling me.' + +The patient groaned again, and the surgeon came back at once to the urgent +present--the case. He led the way to one side, and turning his back upon +the group of assistants he spoke to the woman in low tones. + +"This man, your husband, is pretty badly off. He's got at least two bullets +in bad places. There isn't much chance for him--in his condition," he +explained brusquely, as if to reconcile his unusual procedure with +business-like methods. + +"But I should operate," he continued; "I shall operate unless there are +objections--unless you object." + +His customary imperious manner was struggling with a special feeling for +this woman before him. She did not reply, but waited to hear where her part +might come in. Her eyes did not fall from his face. + +"There's a chance," the surgeon went on, "that a certain operation now will +bring him around all right. But to-morrow will be too late." + +His words thus far had something foolish in them, and her eyes seemed to +say so. If it was the only chance, and his custom was to operate in such +cases,--if he would have operated had she not been there, why did he go +through this explanation? + +"There may be----complications in his recovery," he said at last, in low +tones. "The recovery may not be complete." + +She did not seem to understand, and the surgeon frowned at his failure, +after wrenching from himself this frankness. The idea, the personal idea +that he had had to put out of his mind so often in operating in hospital +cases,--that it made little difference whether, indeed, it might be a great +deal wiser if the operation turned out fatally,--possessed his mind. Could +she be realizing that, too, in her obstinate silence? He tried another +explanation. + +"If we do not operate, he will probably have a few hours of +consciousness--if you had something to say to him?" + +Her face flushed. He humiliated her. He must know that she had nothing to +say to _him_, as well as if he had known the whole story. + +"We could make him comfortable, and who knows, to-morrow might not be too +late!" The surgeon ended irritably, impatient at the unprofessional +frankness of his words, and disgusted that he had taken this woman into his +confidence. Did she want him to say: 'See here, there's only one chance in +a thousand that we can save that carcass; and if he gets that chance, it +may not be a whole one--do you care enough for him to run that dangerous +risk?' But she obstinately kept her own counsel. The professional manner +that he ridiculed so often was apparently useful in just such cases as +this. It covered up incompetence and hypocrisy often enough, but one could +not be human and straightforward with women and fools. And women and fools +made up the greater part of a doctor's business. + +Yet the voice that said, "I am his wife," rang through his mind and +suggested doubts. Under the miserable story that he had instinctively +imaged, there probably lay some tender truth. + +"There's a chance, you see!" he resumed more tenderly, probing her for an +evidence. "All any of us have, except that he is not in a condition for an +operation." + +This time her mouth quivered. She was struggling for words. "Why do you ask +me?" she gasped. "What--" but her voice failed her. + +"I should operate," the surgeon replied gently, anticipating her question. +"I, we should think it better that way, only sometimes relatives object." + +He thought that he had probed true and had found what he was after. + +"It is a chance," she said audibly, finding her voice. "You must do what +you think--best. I have nothing to say to him. You need not delay for +that." + +"Very well," the surgeon replied, relieved that his irregular confidence +had resulted in the conventional decision, and that he had not brought on +himself a responsibility shared with her. "You had best step into the +office. You can do no good here." + +Then, dismissing the unusual from his mind, he stepped quickly back to the +patient. The younger nurse was bathing the swollen, sodden face with apiece +of gauze; the head nurse, annoyed at the delay, bustled about, preparing +the dressings under the direction of the interne. + +The wife had not obeyed the doctor's direction to leave the room, however, +and remained at the window, staring out into the soft night. At last, when +the preparations were completed, the younger nurse came and touched her. +"You can sit in the office, next door; they may be some time," she urged +gently. + +As the woman turned to follow the nurse, the surgeon glanced at her once +more. He was conscious of her calm tread, her admirable self-control. The +sad, passive face with its broad, white brow was the face of a woman who +was just waking to terrible facts, who was struggling to comprehend a world +that had caught her unawares. She had removed her hat and was carrying it +loosely in her hand that had fallen to her side. Her hair swept back in two +waves above the temples with a simplicity that made the head distinguished. +Even the nurses' caps betrayed stray curls or rolls. Her figure was large, +and the articulation was perfect as she walked, showing that she had had +the run of fields in her girlhood. Yet she did not stoop as is the habit of +country girls; nor was there any unevenness of physique due to hard, manual +labor. + +As she passed the huddle of human flesh stretched out in the wheel-chair, a +wave of color swept over her face. Then she looked up to the surgeon and +seemed to speak to him, as to the one human being in a world of puppets. +'You understand; you understand. It is terrible!' + +The surgeon's brown eyes answered hers, but he was puzzled. Had he probed +her aright? It was one of those intimate moments that come to nervously +organized people, when the petty detail of acquaintanceship and fact is +needless, when each one stands nearly confessed to the other. And then she +left the room. + +The surgeon proceeded without a word, working intently, swiftly, +dexterously. At first the head nurse was too busy in handling bowls and +holding instruments to think, even professionally, of the operation. The +interne, however, gazed in admiration, emitting exclamations of delight as +the surgeon rapidly took one step after another. Then he was sent for +something, and the head nurse, her chief duties performed, drew herself +upright for a breath, and her keen, little black eyes noticed an +involuntary tremble, a pause, an uncertainty at a critical moment in the +doctor's tense arm. A wilful current of thought had disturbed his action. +The sharp head nurse wondered if Dr. Sommers had had any wine that evening, +but she dismissed this suspicion scornfully, as slander against the +ornament of the Surgical Ward of St. Isidore's. He was tired: the languid +summer air thus early in the year would shake any man's nerve. But the head +nurse understood well that such a wavering of will or muscle must not occur +again, or the hairbreadth chance the drunken fellow had---- + +She watched that bared arm, her breath held. The long square fingers closed +once more with a firm grip on the instrument. "Miss Lemoris, some No. 3 +gauze." Then not a sound until the thing was done, and the surgeon had +turned away to cleanse his hands in the bowl of purple antiseptic wash. + +"My!" the head nurse exclaimed, "Dr. Trip ain't in it." But the surgeon's +face wore a preoccupied, sombre look, irresponsive to the nurse's +admiration. While she helped the interne with the complicated dressing, the +little nurse made ready for removal to the ward. Then when one of the ward +tenders had wheeled the muffled figure into the corridor, she hurried +across to the office. + +"It's all over," she whispered blithely to the wife, who sat in a dull +abstraction, oblivious of the hospital flurry. "And it's going to be all +right, I just know. Dr. Sommers is _so_ clever, he'd save a dead man. +You had better go now. No use to see him to-night, for he won't come out of +the opiate until near morning. You can come tomorrow morning, and p'r'aps +Dr. Sommers will get you a pass in. Visitors only Thursdays and Sunday +afternoons usually." + +She hurried off to her duties in the ward. The woman did not rise at once. +She did not readjust her thoughts readily; she seemed to be waiting in the +chance of seeing some one. The surgeon did not come out of the receiving +room; there was a sound of wheels in the corridor just outside the office +door, followed by the sound of shuffling feet. Through the open door she +could see two attendants wheeling a stretcher with a man lying motionless +upon it. They waited in the hall outside under a gas-jet, which cast a +flickering light upon the outstretched form. This was the next case, which +had been waiting its turn while her husband was in the receiving room,--a +hand from the railroad yards, whose foot had slipped on a damp rail; now a +pulpy, almost shapeless mass, thinly disguised under a white sheet that had +fallen from his arms and head. She got up and walked out of the room. She +was not wanted there: the hospital had turned its momentary swift attention +to another case. As she passed the stretcher, the bearers shifted their +burden to give her room. The form on the stretcher moaned indistinctly. + +She looked at the unsightly mass, in her heart envious of his condition. +There were things in this world much more evil than this bruised flesh of +what had once been a human being. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The next morning Dr. Sommers took his successor through, the surgical ward. +Dr. Raymond, whose place he had been holding for a month, was a young, +carefully dressed man, fresh from a famous eastern hospital. The nurses +eyed him favorably. He was absolutely correct. When the surgeons reached +the bed marked 8, Dr. Sommers paused. It was the case he had operated on +the night before. He glanced inquiringly at the metal tablet which hung +from the iron cross-bars above the patient's head. On it was printed in +large black letters the patient's name, ARTHUR C. PRESTON; on the next line +in smaller letters, Admitted March 26th. The remaining space on the card +was left blank to receive the statement of regimen, etc. A nurse was giving +the patient an iced drink. After swallowing feebly, the man relapsed into a +semi-stupor, his eyes opening and closing vacantly. + +As he lay under the covering of a sheet, his arms thrust out bare from the +short-sleeved hospital shirt, his unshaven flushed face contrasting with +the pallid and puffy flesh of neck and arms, he gave an impression of +sensuality emphasized by undress. The head was massive and well formed, and +beneath the bloat of fever and dissipation there showed traces of +refinement. The soft hands and neat finger-nails, the carefully trimmed +hair, were sufficient indications of a kind of luxury. The animalism of the +man, however, had developed so early in life that it had obliterated all +strong markings of character. The flaccid, rather fleshy features were +those of the sensual, prodigal young American, who haunts hotels. Clean +shaven and well dressed, the fellow would be indistinguishable from the +thousands of overfed and overdrunk young business men, to be seen every day +in the vulgar luxury of Pullman cars, hotel lobbies, and large bar-rooms. + +The young surgeon studied the patient thoughtfully. He explained the case +briefly to his successor, as he had all the others, and before leaving the +bed, he had the nurse take the patient's temperature. "Only two degrees of +fever," he commented mechanically; "that is very good. Has his wife--has +any one been in to see him?" The head nurse, who stood like an automaton at +the foot of the bed, replied that she had seen no one; in any case, the +doorkeeper would have refused permission unless explicit orders had been +given. + +Then the doctors continued their rounds, followed by the correct head +nurse. When they reached the end of the ward, Dr. Sommers remarked +disconnectedly: "No. 8 there, the man with the gun-shot wounds, will get +well, I think; but I shouldn't wonder if mental complications followed. I +have seen cases like that at the Bicetre, where operations on an alcoholic +patient produced paresis. The man got well," he added harshly, as if +kicking aside some dull formula; "but he was a hopeless idiot." + +The new surgeon stared politely without replying. Such an unprofessional +and uncalled-for expression of opinion was a new experience to him. In the +Boston hospital resident surgeons did not make unguarded confidences even +to their colleagues. + +The two men finished their inspection without further incident, and went to +the office to examine the system of records. After Sommers had left his +successor, he learned from the clerk that "No. 8" had been entered as, +"Commercial traveller; shot three times in a saloon row." Mrs. Preston had +called,--from her and the police this information came,--had been informed +that her husband was doing well, but had not asked to see him. She had left +an address at some unknown place a dozen miles south. + +The surgeon's knowledge of the case ended there. As in so many instances, +he knew solely the point of tragedy: the before and the after went on +outside the hospital walls, beyond his ken. While he was busy in getting +away from the hospital, in packing up the few things left in his room, he +thought no more about Preston's case or any case. But the last thing he did +before leaving St. Isidore's was to visit the surgical ward once more and +glance at No. 8's chart. The patient was resting quietly; there was every +promise of recovery. + +He left the grimy brick hospital, and made his way toward the rooms he had +engaged in a neighborhood farther south. The weather was unseasonably warm +and enervating, and he walked slowly, taking the broad boulevard in +preference to the more noisome avenues, which were thick with slush and +mud. It was early in the afternoon, and the few carriages on the boulevard +were standing in front of the fashionable garment shops that occupied the +city end of the drive. He had an unusual, oppressive feeling of idleness; +it was the first time since he had left the little Ohio college, where he +had spent his undergraduate years, that he had known this emptiness of +purpose. There was nothing for him to do now, except to dine at the +Hitchcocks' to-night. There would be little definite occupation probably +for weeks, months, until he found some practice. Always hitherto, there had +been a succession of duties, tasks, ends that he set himself one on the +heels of another, occupying his mind, relieving his will of all +responsibility. + +He was cast out now from his youth, as it were, at thirty-two, to find his +place in the city, to create his little world. And for the first time since +he had entered Chicago, seven months before, the city wore a face of +strangeness, of complete indifference. It hummed on, like a self-absorbed +machine: all he had to do was not to get caught in it, involved, wrecked. +For nearly a year he had been a part of it; and yet busy as he had been in +the hospital, he had not sought to place himself strongly. He had gone in +and out, here and there, for amusement, but he had returned to the +hospital. Now the city was to be his home: somewhere in it he must dig his +own little burrow. + +Unconsciously his gait expressed his detachment. He sauntered idly, looking +with fresh curiosity at the big, smoke-darkened houses on the boulevard. At +Twenty-Second Street, a cable train clanged its way harshly across his +path. As he looked up, he caught sight of the lake at the end of the +street,--a narrow blue slab of water between two walls. The vista had a +strangely foreign air. But the street itself, with its drays lumbering into +the hidden depths of slimy pools, its dirty, foot-stained cement walks, had +the indubitable aspect of Chicago. + +Along the boulevard carriages were passing more frequently. The clank of +metal chains, the beat of hoofs upon the good road-bed, sounded smartly on +the ear. The houses became larger, newer, more flamboyant; richly dressed, +handsome women were coming and going between them and their broughams. When +Sommers turned to look back, the boulevard disappeared in the vague, murky +region of mephitic cloud, beneath which the husbands of those women were +toiling, striving, creating. He walked on and on, enjoying his leisure, +speculating idly about the people and the houses. At last, as he neared +Fortieth Street, the carriages passed less frequently. He turned back with +a little chill, a feeling that he had left the warm, living thing and was +too much alone. This time he came through Prairie and Calumet Avenues. +Here, on the asphalt pavements, the broughams and hansoms rolled +noiselessly to and fro among the opulent houses with tidy front grass plots +and shining steps. The avenues were alive with afternoon callers. At +several points there were long lines of carriages, attending a reception, +or a funeral, or a marriage. + +The air and the relaxation of all purpose tired him. The scene of the +previous evening hung about his mind, coloring the abiding sense of +loneliness. His last triumph in the delicate art of his profession had +given him no exhilarating sense of power. He saw the woman's face, +miserable and submissive, and he wondered. But he brought himself up with a +jerk: this was the danger of permitting any personal feeling or speculation +to creep into professional matters. + + * * * * * + +In his new rooms on Twenty-Eighth Street, there was an odor of stale +tobacco, permeating the confusion created by a careless person. Dresser had +been occupying them lately. He had found Sam Dresser, whom he had known as +a student in Europe, wandering almost penniless down State Street, and had +offered him a lodging-place. + +"How did it come out?" Sommers asked the big, blond young man with a +beer-stained mustache. + +The big fellow stopped, before answering, to stuff a pipe with tobacco, +punching it in with a fat thumb. + +"They'll give me a job--mean one--three dollars a day--nine to five--under +the roof in a big loft, tenth story--with a lot of women hirelings. Regular +sweatshop--educational sweatshop." + +Sommers took up some letters from the table and opened them. + +"Well, I've got to scare up some patients to live on, even to make three +dollars a day." + +"You!" Dresser exclaimed, eying the letters with naive envy. "You are pals +with the fat-fed capitalists. They will see that you get something easy, +and one of these days you will marry one of their daughters. Then you will +join the bank accounts, and good-by." + +He continued to rail, half jestingly, half in earnest, at McNamara and +Hills,--where he had obtained work, thanks to a letter which Sommers had +procured for him,--at his companion's relations with the well-to-do, which +he exaggerated offensively, and at the well-to-do themselves. + +"It was lucky for you," Sommers remarked good-humoredly, "that I was thick +enough with the bloodsuckers to get you that letter from Hitchcock. One of +us will have to stand in with the 'swilling, fat-fed capitalist.'" + +"Are those Hitchcocks rich?" Dresser asked, his eye resting wistfully on a +square note that the young doctor had laid aside. + +"I suppose so," Sommers answered. "Shall we go and have some beer?" + +Dresser's blue eyes still followed the little pile of letters--eyes hot +with desires and regrets. A lust burned in them, as his companion could +feel instinctively, a lust to taste luxury. Under its domination Dresser +was not unlike the patient in No. 8. + +When they turned into the boulevard, which was crowded at this hour of +twilight, men were driving themselves home in high carts, and through the +windows of the broughams shone the luxuries of evening attire. Dresser's +glance shifted from face to face, from one trap to another, sucking in the +glitter of the showy scene. The flashing procession on the boulevard +pricked his hungry senses, goaded his ambitions. The men and women in the +carriages were the bait; the men and women on the street sniffed it, +cravingly, enviously. + +"There's plenty of swag in the place," Dresser remarked. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The Hitchcocks and the Sommerses came from the same little village in +Maine; they had moved west, about the same time, a few years before the +Civil War: Alexander Hitchcock to Chicago; the senior Dr. Sommers to +Marion, Ohio. Alexander Hitchcock had been colonel of the regiment in which +Isaac Sommers served as surgeon. Although the families had seen little of +one another since the war, yet Alexander Hitchcock's greeting to the young +doctor when he met the latter in Paris had been more than cordial. +Something in the generous, lingering hand-shake of the Chicago merchant had +made the younger man feel the strength of old ties. + +"I knew your mother," Colonel Hitchcock had said, smiling gently into the +young student's face. "I knew her very well, and your father, too,--he was +a brave man, a remarkable man." + +He had sympathetically rolled the hand he still retained in his broad palm. + +"If Marion had only been Chicago! You say he died two years ago? And your +mother long ago? Where will you settle?" + +With this abrupt question, Dr. Sommers was taken at once into a kindly +intimacy with the Hitchcocks. Not long after this chance meeting there came +to the young surgeon an offer of a post at St. Isidore's. In the +vacillating period of choice, the successful merchant's counsel had had a +good deal of influence with Sommers. And his persistent kindliness since +the choice had been made had done much to render the first year in Chicago +agreeable. 'We must start you right,' he had seemed to say. 'We mustn't +lose you.' + +Those pleasant days in Paris had been rendered more memorable to the young +doctor by the friendship that came about between him and Miss Hitchcock--a +friendship quite independent of anything her family might feel for him. She +let him see that she made her own world, and that she would welcome him as +a member of it. Accustomed as he had been only to the primitive daughters +of the local society in Marion and Exonia, or the chance intercourse with +unassorted women in Philadelphia, where he had taken his medical course, +and in European pensions, Louise Hitchcock presented a very definite and +delightful picture. That it was but one generation from Hill's Crossing, +Maine, to this self-possessed, carefully finished young woman, was +unbelievable. Tall and finished in detail, from the delicate hands and fine +ears to the sharply moulded chin, she presented a puzzling contrast to the +short, thick, sturdy figure of her mother. And her quick appropriation of +the blessings of wealth, her immediate enjoyment of the aristocratic +assurances that the Hitchcock position had given her in Chicago, showed +markedly in contrast with the tentativeness of Mrs. Hitchcock. Louise +Hitchcock handled her world with perfect self-command; Mrs. Hitchcock was +rather breathless over every manifestation of social change. + +Parker Hitchcock, the son, Sommers had not seen until his coming to +Chicago. At a first glance, then, he could feel that in the son the family +had taken a further leap from the simplicity of the older generation. +Incidentally the young man's cool scrutiny had instructed him that the +family had not committed Parker Hitchcock to _him_. Young Hitchcock +had returned recently to the family lumber yards on the West Side and the +family residence on Michigan Avenue, with about equal disgust, so Sommers +judged, for both _milieux_. Even more than his sister, Parker was +conscious of the difference between the old state of things and the new. +Society in Chicago was becoming highly organized, a legitimate business of +the second generation of wealth. The family had the money to spend, and at +Yale in winter, at Newport and Beverly and Bar Harbor in summer, he had +learned how to spend it, had watched admiringly how others spent their +wealth. He had begun to educate his family in spending,--in using to +brilliant advantage the fruits of thirty years' hard work and frugality. +With his cousin Caspar Porter he maintained a small polo stable at Lake +Hurst, the new country club. On fair days he left the lumber yards at noon, +while Alexander Hitchcock was still shut in behind the dusty glass doors of +his office. His name was much oftener in the paragraphs of the city press +than his parents': he was leading the family to new ideals. + +Ideals, Sommers judged, that were not agreeable to old Colonel Hitchcock, +slightly menacing even in the eyes of the daughter, whose horizon was +wider. Sommers had noticed the little signs of this heated family +atmosphere. A mist of undiscussed views hung about the house, out of which +flashed now and then a sharp speech, a bitter sigh. He had been at the +house a good deal in a thoroughly informal manner. The Hitchcocks rarely +entertained in the "new" way, for Mrs. Hitchcock had a terror of formality. +A dinner, as she understood it, meant a gathering of a few old friends, +much hearty food served in unpretentious abundance, and a very little bad +wine. The type of these entertainments had improved lately under Miss +Hitchcock's influence, but it remained essentially the same,--an occasion +for copious feeding and gossipy, neighborly chat. + +To-night, as Sommers approached the sprawling green stone house on Michigan +Avenue, there were signs of unusual animation about the entrance. As he +reached the steps a hansom deposited the bulky figure of Brome Porter, Mrs. +Hitchcock's brother-in-law. The older man scowled interrogatively at the +young doctor, as if to say: 'You here? What the devil of a crowd has Alec +raked together?' But the two men exchanged essential courtesies and entered +the house together. + +Porter, Sommers had heard, had once been Alexander Hitchcock's partner in +the lumber business, but had withdrawn from the firm years before. Brome +Porter was now a banker, as much as he was any one thing. It was easy to +see that the pedestrian business of selling lumber would not satisfy Brome +Porter. Popularly "rated at five millions," his fortune had not come out of +lumber. Alexander Hitchcock, with all his thrift, had not put by over a +million. Banking, too, would seem to be a tame enterprise for Brome Porter. +Mines, railroads, land speculations--he had put his hand into them all +masterfully. Large of limb and awkward, with a pallid, rather stolid face, +he looked as if Chicago had laid a heavy hand upon his liver, as if the +Carlsbad pilgrimage were a yearly necessity. 'Heavy eating and drinking, +strong excitements--too many of them,' commented the professional glance of +the doctor. 'Brute force, padded superficially by civilization,' Sommers +added to himself, disliking Porter's cold eye shots at him. 'Young man,' +his little buried eyes seemed to say, 'young man, if you know what's good +for you; if you are the right sort; if you do the proper thing, we'll push +you. Everything in this world depends on being in the right carriage.' +Sommers was tempted whenever he met him to ask him for a good tip: he +seemed always to have just come from New York; and when this barbarian went +to Rome, it was for a purpose, which expressed itself sooner or later over +the stock-ticker. But the tip had not come yet. + +As Sommers was reaching the end of his conversational rope with Porter, +other guests arrived. Among them was Dr. Lindsay, a famous specialist in +throat diseases. The older doctor nodded genially to Sommers with the air +of saying: 'I am so glad to find you _here_. This is the right place +for a promising young man.' + +And Sommers in a flash suspected why he had been bidden: the good-natured +Miss Hitchcock wished to bring him a little closer to this influential +member of his profession. + +"Shall we wait for them?" Dr. Lindsay asked, joining Sommers. "Porter has +got hold of Carson, and they'll keep up their stories until some one hauls +them out. My wife and daughter have already gone down. How is St. +Isidore's?" + +"I left to-day. My term is up. I feel homesick already," the young doctor +answered with a smile. "Chicago is so big," he added. "I didn't know it +before." + +"It's quite a village, quite a village," Dr. Lindsay answered thoughtfully. +"We'll have some more talk later, won't we?" he added confidentially, as +they passed downstairs. + +The Hitchcock house revealed itself in the floods of electric light as +large and undeniably ugly. Built before artistic ambitions and cosmopolitan +architects had undertaken to soften American angularities, it was merely a +commodious building, ample enough for a dozen Hitchcocks to loll about in. +Decoratively, it might be described as a museum of survivals from the +various stages of family history. At each advance in prosperity, in social +ideals, some of the former possessions had been swept out of the lower +rooms to the upper stories, in turn to be ousted by their more modern +neighbors. Thus one might begin with the rear rooms of the third story to +study the successive deposits. There the billiard chairs once did service +in the old home on the West Side. In the hall beside the Westminster clock +stood a "sofa," covered with figured velours. That had once adorned the old +Twentieth Street drawing-room; and thrifty Mrs. Hitchcock had not +sufficiently readjusted herself to the new state to banish it to the floor +above, where it belonged with some ugly, solid brass andirons. In the same +way, faithful Mr. Hitchcock had seen no good reason why he should degrade +the huge steel engraving of the Aurora, which hung prominently at the foot +of the stairs, in spite of its light oak frame, which was in shocking +contrast with the mahogany panels of the walls. Flanking the staircase were +other engravings,--Landseer's stags and the inevitable Queen Louise. Yet +through the open arch, in a pleasant study, one could see a good Zorn, a +Venom portrait, and some prints. This nook, formerly the library, had been +given over to the energetic Miss Hitchcock. It was done in +Shereton,--imitation, but good imitation. From this vantage point the +younger generation planned an extended attack upon the irregular household +gods. + +Sommers realized for the first time how the Aurora and the Queen Louise +must worry Miss Hitchcock; how the neat Swedish maids and the hat-stand in +the hall must offend young Hitchcock. The incongruities of the house had +never disturbed him. So far as he had noticed them, they accorded well with +the simple characters of his host and hostess. In them, as in the house, a +keen observer could trace the series of developments that had taken place +since they had left Hill's Crossing. Yet the full gray beard with the broad +shaved upper lip still gave the Chicago merchant the air of a New England +worthy. And Alexander, in contrast with his brother-in-law, had knotty +hands and a tanned complexion that years of "inside business" had not +sufficed to smooth. The little habit of kneading the palm which you felt +when he shook hands, and the broad, humorous smile, had not changed as the +years passed him on from success to success. Mrs. Hitchcock still slurred +the present participle and indulged in other idiomatic freedoms that +endeared her to Sommers. These two, plainly, were not of the generation +that is tainted by ambition. Their story was too well known, from the +boarding-house struggle to this sprawling stone house, to be worth the +varnishing. Indeed, they would not tolerate any such detractions from their +well-earned reputation. The Brome Porters might draw distinctions and +prepare for a new social aristocracy; but to them old times were sweet and +old friends dear. + +As the guests gathered in the large "front room," Alexander Hitchcock stood +above them, as the finest, most courteous spirit. There was race in +him--sweetness and strength and refinement--the qualities of the best +manhood of democracy. This effect of simplicity and sweetness was +heightened in the daughter, Louise. She had been born in Chicago, in the +first years of the Hitchcock fight. She remembered the time when the +billiard-room chairs were quite the most noted possessions in the basement +and three-story brick house on West Adams Street. She had followed the +chairs in the course of the Hitchcock evolution until her aunt had insisted +on her being sent east to the Beaumanor Park School. Two years of "refined +influences" in this famous establishment, with a dozen other girls from +new-rich families, had softened her tones and prolonged her participles, +but had touched her not essentially. Though she shared with her younger +brother the feeling that the Hitchcocks were not getting the most out of +their opportunities, she could understand the older people more than he. If +she sympathized with her father's belief that the boy ought to learn to +sell lumber, or "do something for himself," yet she liked the fact that he +played polo. It was the right thing to be energetic, upright, respected; it +was also nice to spend your money as others did. And it was very, very nice +to have the money to spend. + +To-night, as Sommers came across the hall to the drawing-room, she left the +group about the door to welcome him. "Weren't you surprised," she asked him +with an ironical laugh, "at the people, I mean--all ages and kinds? You see +Parker had to be appeased. He didn't want to stay, and I don't know why he +should. So we gave him Laura Lindsay." She nodded good-naturedly in the +direction of a young girl, whose sharp thin little face was turned joyfully +toward the handsome Parker. "And we added our cousin Caspar, not for +conversation, but to give an illusion of youth and gayety. Caspar is the +captain of the polo team. By the way, what do you think of polo?" + +"I never had occasion to think," the young doctor replied, scrutinizing a +heavy, florid-faced young man whom he took to be Caspar Porter. + +"Well, polo is with us at breakfast and dinner. Papa doesn't approve, +doesn't believe in young men keeping a stable as Caspar does. Mamma doesn't +know what she believes. I am arbitrator--it's terrible, the new +generation," she broke off whimsically. + +"Which has the right of it?" Sommers asked idly. "The fathers who made the +money, or the sons who want to enjoy it?" + +"Both; neither," she laughed back with an air of comfortable tolerance. She +might have added, 'You see, I like both kinds--you and Parker's set.' + +"Do you know, Dr. Lindsay is here?" + +Sommers smiled as he replied,-- + +"Yes; was it arranged?" + +The girl blushed, and moved away. + +"He was anxious to meet you." + +"Of course," the doctor replied ironically. + +"I could tell you more," she added alluringly. + +"I have no doubt. Perhaps you had better not, however." + +Miss Hitchcock ceased to smile and looked at him without reply. She had +something on the tip of her tongue to tell him, something she had thought +of pleasantly for the last three days, but she suspected that this man was +not one who would like to take his good fortune from a woman's hand. + +"Dr. Lindsay is an old friend; we have known him for years." She spoke +neutrally. Sommers merely nodded. + +"He is very successful, _very_," she added, giving in to her desire a +little. + +"Chicago is a good place for a throat specialist." + +"He is said to be the most--" + +"What?" + +"You know--has the largest income of any doctor in the city." +Sommers did not reply. At length the girl ventured once more. + +"I hope you will be nice to him." + +"There won't be any question of it." + +"You can be so stiff, so set; I have counted a great deal on this." + +"Politics, politics!" Sommers exclaimed awkwardly. "Who is the man with Mr. +Porter?" + +"Railway Gazette Carson? That's what he is called. He swallows +railroads--absorbs 'em. He was a lawyer. They have a house on the North +Side and a picture, a Sargent. But I'll keep the story. Come! you must meet +Mrs. Lindsay." + +"Politics, politics!" Sommers murmured to himself, as Miss Hitchcock moved +across the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +At the table there were awkward silences, followed by spasmodic local +bursts of talk. Sommers, who sat between Miss Hitchcock and Mrs. Lindsay, +fell to listening to his host. + +"I was taken for you to-day, Brome," Mr. Hitchcock said, with a touch of +humor in his voice. + +Porter laughed at the apparent absurdity of the accusation. + +"I was detained at the office over at the yards. The men and the girls had +pretty nearly all gone. I was just about to leave, when a fellow opened the +door--he looked like a Swede or a Norwegian. + +"'Is the boss here?' he asked. + +"'Yes,' said I; 'what can I do for you?' + +"'I wants a yob, a yob,' he shouted, 'and no foolin'. I worked for de boss +ten years and never lost a day!' + +"I thought the man was drunk. 'Who did you work for?' I asked. 'For +Pullman, in de vorks,' he said; then I saw how it was. He was one of the +strikers, or had lost his job before the strike. Some one told him you were +in with me, Brome, and a director of the Pullman works. He had footed it +clear in from Pullman to find you, to lay hands on you personally." + +Porter laughed rather grimly. + +"That's the first sign!" Carson exclaimed. + +"They'll have enough of it before the works open," Porter added. + +Parker Hitchcock looked bored. Such things were not in good form; they came +from the trade element in the family. His cousin Caspar had Miss Lindsay's +attention. She was describing a Polish estate where she had visited the +preceding summer. + +"Did you send him round to our office?" Porter asked jokingly. + +Sommers's keen eyes rested on his host's face inquiringly. + +"No-oh," Alexander Hitchcock drawled; "I had a talk with him." + +"They are rather dangerous people to talk with," Dr. Lindsay remarked. + +"He was a Norwegian, a big, fine-looking man. He was _all right_. He +couldn't talk much English, but he knew that his folks were hungry. 'You +gif me a yob,' he kept saying, until I explained I wasn't in the business, +had nothing to do with the Pullman works. Then he sat down and looked at +the floor. 'I vas fooled.' Well, it seems he did inlaying work, fine +cabinet work, and got good pay. He built a house for himself out in some +place, and he was fired among the first last winter,--I guess because he +didn't live in Pullman." + +"That's the story they use," Brome Porter said sceptically. "You should +call the watchman; they're apt to be dangerous." + +"A crowd of 'em," put in Carson, "were at the Pullman office this morning; +wanted to _arbitrate_." + +He spoke deprecatingly of their innocence, but Porter's tones were harsh. + +"To arbitrate! to arbitrate! when we are making money by having 'em quit." + +Miss Hitchcock turned apprehensively to her companion. Her handsome, clear +face was perplexed; she was distressed over the way the talk was going. + +"It's as bad as polo!" she exclaimed, in low tones. But the doctor did not +hear her. + +"Is it so," he was asking Colonel Hitchcock, "that the men who had been +thrifty enough to get homes outside of Pullman had to go first because they +didn't pay rent to the company? I heard the same story from a patient in +the hospital." + +By this time Caspar Porter had turned his attention to the conversation at +the other end of the table. His florid face was agape with astonishment at +the doctor's temerity. Parker Hitchcock shrugged his shoulders and +muttered something to Miss Lindsay. The older men moved in their chairs. +It was an unhappy topic for dinner conversation in this circle. + +"Well, I don't know," Colonel Hitchcock replied, a slight smile creeping +across his face. "Some say yes, and some say no. Perhaps Porter can tell +you." + +"We leave all that to the superintendent," the latter replied stiffly. "I +haven't looked into it. The works isn't a hospital." + +"That's a minor point," Carson added, in a high-pitched voice. "The real +thing is whether a corporation can manage its own affairs as it thinks best +or not." + +"The thrifty and the shiftless," interposed Dr. + +Lindsay, nodding to his young colleague. + +"Well, the directors are a unit. That settles the matter," Porter ended +dogmatically. "The men may starve, but they'll never get back now." + +The young doctor's face set in rather rigid lines. He had made a mistake, +had put himself outside the sympathies of this comfortable circle. Miss +Hitchcock was looking into the flowers in front of her, evidently searching +for some remark that would lead the dinner out of this uncomfortable +slough, when Brome Porter began again sententiously: + +"The laborer has got some hard lessons to learn. This trouble is only a +small part of the bigger trouble. He wants to get more than he is worth. +And all our education, the higher education, is a bad thing." He turned +with marked emphasis toward the young doctor. "That's why I wouldn't give a +dollar to any begging college--not a dollar to make a lot of discontented, +lazy duffers who go round exciting workingmen to think they're badly +treated. Every dollar given a man to educate himself above his natural +position is a dollar given to disturb society." + +Before Sommers could accept the challenge in this speech, Miss Hitchcock +asked,-- + +"But what did you do with your visitor, papa?" + +"Well, we had some more talk," he replied evasively. "Maybe that's why I +missed you, Brome, at the club. He stayed most an hour." + +"Did he go then?" the girl pressed on mischievously. + +"Well, I gave him a 'yob' over at the yards. It wasn't much of a 'yob' +though." + +This speech aroused some laughter, and the talk drifted on in little waves +into safer channels. The episode, however, seemed to have made an undue +impression upon Sommers. Miss Hitchcock's efforts to bring him into the +conversation failed. As for Mrs. Lindsay, he paid her not the slightest +attention. He was coolly taking his own time to think, without any sense of +social responsibility. + +"What is the matter?" his companion said to him at last, in her low, +insistent voice. "You are behaving so badly. Why won't you do anything one +wants you to?" + +Sommers glanced at his companion as if she had shaken him out of a dream. +Her dark eyes were gleaming with irritation, and her mouth trembled. + +"I had a vision," Sommers replied coolly. + +"Well!" The man's egotism aroused her impatience, but she lowered her head +to catch every syllable of his reply. + +"I seemed to see things in a flash--to feel an iron crust of prejudice." + +The girl's brow contracted in a puzzled frown, but she waited. The young +doctor tried again to phrase the matter. + +"These people--I mean your comfortable rich--seem to have taken a kind of +oath of self-preservation. To do what is expected of one, to succeed, you +must take the oath. You must defend their institutions, and all that," he +blundered on. + +"I don't know what you mean," the girl replied coolly, haughtily, raising +her head and glancing over the table. + +"I am not very clear. Perhaps I make a great deal of nothing. My remarks +sound 'young' even to me." + + +"I don't pretend to understand these questions. I wish men wouldn't talk +business at dinner. It is worse than polo!" + +She swept his face with a glance of distrust, the lids of her eyes half +lowered, as if to put a barrier between them. + +"Yes," Sommers assented; "it is harder to understand." + +It was curious, he thought, that a woman could take on the new rights, the +aristocratic attitude, so much more completely than a man. Miss Hitchcock +was a full generation ahead of the others in her conception of inherited, +personal rights. As the dinner dragged on, there occurred no further +opportunity for talk until near the end, when suddenly the clear, even +tones of Miss Hitchcock's voice brought his idle musing to an end. + +"I hope you will talk with Dr. Lindsay. He is a very able man. And," she +hesitated a moment and then looked frankly at him, "he can do so much for a +young doctor who has his way to make." + +"Don't you think that might make it harder for me to talk to him?" Sommers +asked, irritated by her lack of tact. + +The girl's face flushed, and she pressed her lips together as if to push +back a sharp reply. + +"That is unfair. We are going now--but sometime we must talk it out." + +The men stretched themselves and rearranged their chairs in little groups. +Parker Hitchcock, Carson, and young Porter--were talking horses; they made +no effort to include the young doctor in their corner. He was beginning to +feel uncomfortably stranded in the middle of the long room, when Dr. +Lindsay crossed to his side. The talk at dinner had not put the +distinguished specialist in a sympathetic light, but the younger man felt +grateful for this act of cordiality. They chatted about St. Isidore's, +about the medical schools in Chicago, and the medical societies. At last +Dr. Lindsay suggested casually, as he refilled his liqueur-glass: + +"You have made some plans?" + +"No, not serious ones. I have thought of taking a vacation. Then there is +another hospital berth I could have. Head of a small hospital in a mining +town. But I don't like to leave Chicago, on the whole." + +"You are right," the older physician remarked slowly. "Such a place would +bury you; you would never be heard of." + +Sommers smiled at the penalty held out, but he did not protest. + +"There isn't any career in hospital work, anyway, for a steady thing. You +get side-tracked." + +"I like it better than family practice," Sommers jerked out. "You don't +have to fuss with people, women especially. Then I like the excitement of +it." + +"That won't last long," the older man smiled indulgently. "And you'll have +a wife some day, who will make you take a different view. But there are +other things--office practice." + +He dilated on the advantages of office practice, while the younger man +smoked and listened deferentially. Office practice offered a pleasant +compromise between the strenuous scientific work of the hospital and the +grind of family practice. There were no night visits, no dreary work with +the poor--or only as much as you cared to do,--and it paid well, if you +took to it. Sommers reflected that the world said it paid Lindsay about +fifty thousand a year. It led, also, to lectureships, trusteeships--a mass +of affairs that made a man prominent and important in the community. + +Sommers listened attentively without questioning the agreeable, tactful +doctor. He could see that something was in the air, that Lindsay was not a +man to talk with this degree of intimacy out of pure charity or vanity. But +the great specialist said nothing very definite after all: he let fall, +casually, the fact that good men for office work--men of experience who +were skilful and tactful--were rare. He had just lost a valuable doctor +from his staff. + +When the men returned to the drawing-room, Parker Hitchcock and his cousin +took themselves off. The Lindsays went soon after. Sommers, who had +regained his good sense; tried to make his apologies to Miss Hitchcock. + +"Don't go yet," she answered cordially. "They will all be disposed of soon, +and we can have that talk. Go and look at my prints." + +In a few moments she came up behind him as he was studying the brush work +of a little canvas. "I have been thinking of what you said at the table, +Dr. Sommers. I have tried to think what you mean, but I can't." + +Her eyes opened in frank, tolerant inquiry. Sommers had seen her like this +a few times, and always with a feeling of nearness. + +"I don't believe that I can make you understand," he began. + +"Try!" + +"The feelings that make us act are generally too vague to be defended. All +that I could do would be to describe a mood, a passion that takes me now +and then, and makes me want to smash things." + +She nodded her head comprehendingly. + +"Yes, I know that." + +"Not from the same reason," Sommers laughed. + +"I will tell you what it is: you think the rich are unfair. You didn't like +Uncle Brome's talk about the Pullman people." + +"No, and more than that," he protested; "I don't know anything about the +Pullman matter; but I hate the--successful. I guess that's about it." + +"You think they are corrupt and luxurious and all that?" + +As she spoke she waved one hand negligently toward the Aurora in the hall. +They both laughed at the unspoken argument. + +"If you feel like that _here_--" + +"I feel that way pretty much all the time in America," he said bluntly. "It +isn't this house or that, this man's millions or that man's; it's the whole +thing." + +Miss Hitchcock looked nonplussed. + + +"Life is based on getting something others haven't,--as much of it as you +can and as fast as you can. I never felt that so constantly as I have the +last few months. Do you think," he went on hastily, "that Lindsay, that any +doctor, can _earn_ fifty thousand a year?" + +"I don't know. I hate views." Her voice sounded weary and defeated. + +Sommers rose to his feet, exclaiming, "I thought there were some pretty +definite ones, this evening." + +Miss Hitchcock started, but refused to take the challenge. + +They faced each other for a moment without speaking. Sommers could see that +his blundering words had placed him in a worse position than before. At the +same time he was aware that he regretted it; that "views" were +comparatively unimportant to a young woman; and that this woman, at least, +was far better than views. + +"Good night," she murmured, lowering her eyes as she gave him her hand. He +hesitated a moment, searching for an intelligent word, but finally he +turned away without any further attempt to explain himself. + +It was good to be out in the soft March night, to feel once more the free +streets, which alone carry the atmosphere of unprivileged humanity. The +mood of the evening was doubtless foolish, boyish, but it was none the less +keen and convincing. He had never before had the inner, unknown elements of +his nature so stirred; had never felt this blind, raging protest. +It was a muddle of impressions: the picture of the poor soul with his +clamor for a job; the satisfied, brutal egotism of Brome Porter, who lived +as if life were a huge poker game; the overfed, red-cheeked Caspar, whom he +remembered to have seen only once before, when the young polo captain was +stupid drunk; the silly young cub of a Hitchcock. Even the girl was one of +them. If it weren't for the women, the men would not be so keen on the +scent for gain. The women taught the men how to spend, created the needs +for their wealth. And the social game they were instituting in Chicago was +so emptily imitative, an echo of an echo! + +There was Carson: he was your image of modern power--the lean, hungry, +seamed face, surmounted by a dirty-gray pall. He was clawing his way to the +top of the heap. + +Sommers stopped to laugh at himself. His fury was foolish, a mere +generalization of discontent from very little data. Still, it was a relief +to be out in the purring night sounds. He had passed from the affluent +stone piles on the boulevard to the cheap flat buildings of a cross street. +His way lay through a territory of startling contrasts of wealth and +squalor. The public part of it--the street and the sidewalks--was equally +dirty and squalid, once off the boulevard. The cool lake wind was piping +down the cross streets, driving before it waste paper and dust. In his +preoccupation he stumbled occasionally into some stagnant pool. + +Should he take Lindsay's job, if he had the chance? Obstinately his mind +reverted to a newspaper paragraph that had caught his eye months before: on +the occasion of some disturbance over women students in the Western Medical +College, Dr. Lindsay had told the men that "physicians should be especially +considerate of women, if for no other reason, _because their success in +their profession would depend very largely on women_." Certainly, if he +had to decide to-night, he would rather return to Marion, Ohio, than join +his staff. Such a retreat from the glories of Chicago would be +inconceivable to old Hitchcock and to the girl. He reflected that he should +not like to put himself away from her forever. + +St. Isidore's loomed ahead in the quiet street, its windows dark except for +the night light in the ward kitchens. He should like to turn in there for a +few minutes, to see how the fellow was coming on. The brute ought not to +pull through. But it was too late: a new regime had begun; his little +period of sway had passed, leaving as a last proof of his art this human +jetsam saved for the nonce. And there rose in his heated mind the pitiful +face of a resolute woman, questioning him: "You held the keys of life and +death. Which have you given _me_?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The Athenian Building raises its knife-like facade in the centre of +Chicago, thirteen stories in all; to the lake it presents a broad wall of +steel and glass. It is a hive of doctors. Layer after layer, their offices +rise, circling the gulf of the elevator-well. At the very crown of the +building Dr. Frederick H. Lindsay and his numerous staff occupy almost the +entire floor. In one corner, however, a small room embedded in the heavy +cornice is rented by a dentist, Dr. Ephraim Leonard. The dentist's office +is a snug little hole, scarcely large enough for a desk, a chair, a case of +instruments, a "laboratory," and a network of electric appliances. From the +one broad window the eye rests upon the blue shield of lake; nearer, almost +at the foot of the building, run the ribboned tracks of the railroad yards. +They disappear to the south in a smoky haze; to the north they end at the +foot of a lofty grain elevator. Beyond, factories quietly belch sooty +clouds. + +Dr. Lindsay coveted this office, but Dr. Leonard clung tenaciously to his +little strip, every inch that he could possibly pay rent for. He had been +there since that story was finished. The broad view rested him. When he +ceased to peer into a patient's mouth, he pushed up his spectacles and took +a long look over the lake. Sometimes, if the patient was human and had +enough temperament to appreciate his treasure, he would idle away a quarter +of an hour chatting, enjoying the sun and the clear air of the lake. When +the last patient had gone, he would take the chair and have the view to +himself, as from a proscenium box. + +The little office was a busy place: besides the patients there were coming +and going a stream of people,--agents, canvassers, acquaintances, and +promoters of schemes. A scheme was always brewing in the dentist's office. +Now it was a plan to exploit a new suburb innumerable miles to the west. +Again it was a patent contrivance in dentistry. Sometimes the scheme was +nothing more than a risky venture in stocks. These affairs were conducted +with an air of great secrecy in violent whisperings, emphasized by blows of +the fist upon the back of the chair. The favored patients were deftly +informed of "a good thing," the dentist taking advantage of the one +inevitable moment of receptivity for his thrifty promotions. The schemes, +it must be said, had never come to much. If Dr. Leonard had survived +without any marked loss a dozen years of venturing, he might be said to +have succeeded. He had no time for other games; this was his poker. They +were always the schemes of little people, very complex in organization, +needing a wheel here, a cog there, finally breaking down from the lack of +capital. Then some "big people" collected the fragments to cast them into +the pot once more. Dr. Leonard added another might-have-been and a new sigh +to the secret chamber of his soul. But his face was turned outward to +receive the next scheme. + +This time it happened to be a wonderful new process of evolving gas from +dirt and city refuse. He had been explaining it gently to a woman in the +chair, from pure intellectual interest, to distract the patient's mind. He +was not tinkering with teeth this time, however. The woman was sitting in +the chair because it was the only unoccupied space. She had removed her hat +and was looking steadily into the lake. At last, when the little office +clerk had left, the talk about the gas generator ceased, and the woman +turned her wistful face to the old dentist. There was a sombre pause. + +"Yes," the dentist muttered finally, "I saw it in the paper Tuesday, no, +Monday--it was Monday, wasn't it? and I hoped you'd come in." + +The woman moved her hands restlessly, as if to ask where else she could go. + +"They most always do turn up," he continued bluntly; "them that no one +wants, like your husband. What are you going to do?" + +The woman turned her face back to the lake; it was evident that she had no +plan. + +"I thought," the dentist began, recalling her story, "I thought when you'd +started in the schools--it was a mighty hard thing to do to get you in; it +took all my pull on Mahoney." + +The woman's face flushed. "I know," she murmured. "They don't want married +women. But if it hadn't been for Mahoney--" + +"Then," interrupted the dentist, "he'd been good enough to let you alone +for most a year, and I thought you were out of your troubles." + +"I knew he would come back," she interposed quietly. + +"But now he comes back just as everything is nice, and worse, you come +across him when he is nigh bein' shot to death. Then, worse yet, by what +the papers said, you went to the hospital with him and gave the whole thing +away. When I saw the name, Alves Preston, printed out, I swore." + +Mrs. Preston smiled at his vehemence. + +"Tell me, Alves," the old man asked in a rambling manner, "how did you ever +come to marry him? I've wanted to ask you that from the first." + +Mrs. Preston rose from the chair and pulled her cloak about her. + +"I couldn't make you understand; I don't myself _now_." + +"D'yer love him?" the dentist persisted, not ungently. + +"Should I be here if I did?" she flashed resentfully. "I was a country girl +away at school, more foolish than one of those dumb Swedes in my class, and +he--" + +But she turned again to the window, with an impatient gesture. + +"It is something wrong in a woman," she murmured. "But she has no chance, +no chance. I can't tell you now all the things." + +"Well," the dentist said soothingly, "let's see just how bad it is. Has +your boss, the superintendent, or the principal spoke to you, turned you +out? I see the reporter went around to the school, nosing after something." + +"They'd just transferred me--miles south," she answered indifferently. "I +was glad of it. I don't have to meet the spying, talking teachers, and +think all the time the pupils know it from their parents. They're all +foreigners where I am now. They say the Everglade school is the next thing +to the last. It's a kind of Purgatory, where they keep you for a few months +before they dismiss you." + +"I didn't know any one was ever dismissed from a Chicago school," the +dentist remarked. + +"Oh, sometimes when the superintendents or the supervisors don't want you. +There is a supervisor in the Everglade district--" she stopped a moment, +and then continued tranquilly--"he was very intimate at first. I thought he +wanted to help me to get on in the school. But he wanted--other things. +Perhaps when he doesn't--succeed--that will be the end." + +"It'll blow over," the dentist said encouragingly. "If the supervisor +troubles you much, I'll see Mahoney. You've changed your boarding-place?" + +"Yes--but," she admitted in a moment, "they know it at the hospital." + +Dr. Leonard rubbed his bristly face irritably. + +"I've been to see him--it seemed I ought to--I was the only one who +WOULD in the whole world--the only one to speak a word to him." + +"That makes it worse," the dentist commented depressingly. "I don't know as +you could get free now if you wanted to. You've put your hand to the plough +again, my girl, and it's a long furrow." + +"What do you mean?" + +"The hospital folks know you're his wife, and they'll expect you to take +him in when he gets better." + +"I suppose so," Mrs. Preston admitted. "But I suppose, anyway, I should +take care of him until he can go away." + +Dr. Leonard threw up his hands in disgust. + +"Alves, why don't you go straight off and get a divorce--for desertion?" + +Mrs. Preston opened the heavy lids of her eyes; her face slowly flushed. + +"That would be the end of it?" she asked, in a low voice. + +"Of course! I'll give you the money, and testify for you. Go right ahead, +now he is laid up, and have it all ready when he gets out." + +"I couldn't do that," Mrs. Preston answered, the color fading from her +face, and the white lids closing over the eyes. "Besides, he may never +recover fully. I don't think they expect him to at the hospital." + +"All the more reason," protested the dentist. "It's mighty hard," he added +sympathetically. "Women are mostly children, the better sort, and you feel +bad, even when they're in trouble through their own foolishness." + +"There is no release, no divorce," Mrs. Preston continued. "A thing is +done, and it's done. There's no ending it in this life. You can run away, +or close your eyes, but you don't escape. He has been--my husband." + +"That's silly! Now let me tell you what I'll do." The dentist squared +himself and raised the little lignum-vitae mallet, which he used to drive +home his fillings. + +"Don't you fool round any more. You can't love that fellow,--think you +never did now,--and he's given you no reason to be very nice to him. You +just drop him where you are, and start out alone and make the best of it. +You can't do that in Chicago now. Get out of Chicago to-morrer. Go east. +Take your maiden name; no one is goin' to be hurt by not knowin' you're +married. I guess you ain't likely to try it again." + +He paused for objections, and evidently found one himself. + +"If you ain't got the money handy, I'll just fix you up. That gas generator +I was talking to you about is going to make me mints of money. You can go +right away to my sister-in-law in Worcester, Ohio. Guess _he_ won't +trouble you much there. What do you say?" + +She had nothing very cogent to say, but the dentist felt an impalpable +obstruction of will, unintelligible and persistent. His enthusiasm grew as +he perfected the details of his plan. It was a new kind of scheme, in which +he took the artistic delight of the incorrigible promoter. His imagination +once enlisted for the plan, he held to it, arguing, counselling, bullying. +"If it's the money," he ended, "you needn't bother. I'll just put it on the +bill. When I am rich, it won't make no difference, nor when you are, +either." + +Mrs. Preston took one of his furry hands in hers, and pressed it. She knew +that the ventures had not yet made him rich. Thirty years in Chicago had +not filled his purse. + +"I'd do it for you, same as for one of my daughters. It's just as easy as +having a tooth out, and you start over as good as new." + +"It isn't that," she smiled. "You can't start over as good as new if you +are a woman. I couldn't run away. I've put myself into it a second time, +without thinking. I chose then just as before, when I followed him to the +hospital. When the doctor asked me if he should try to save his life, I +wanted him to die--oh, how I longed that the doctor would refuse to try! +Well, he's alive. It is for life." + +She seemed to see before her a long, toilsome ascent, to which she had been +driven to put her feet. + +"Think it over," the dentist counselled at last, despondently. "Sleep on +it. There's Worcester, Ohio, and my sister-in-law." + +Mrs. Preston smiled, and put on her hat. + +"I've taken a lot of your time." + +"That's no account, but I can't see what you came for. You won't let a +feller help you." + +"There wasn't any good reason. I came because I was awfully lonely. There +isn't a soul that I can speak out to, except you. You don't know what that +means. I go about in the schoolroom, and up and down the streets, and see +things--horrible things. The world gets to be one big torture chamber, and +then I have to cry out. I come to you to cry out,--because you really care. +Now I can go away, and keep silent for a long time." + +"You make too much of it," the dentist protested. He busied himself in +putting the little steel instruments into their purple plush beds and +locking the drawers. + +"Yes, I make too much of it," Mrs. Preston acknowledged quietly, as she +opened the door. "Good night." + +"I guess she loves him still and don't like to own it. Women are generally +so," the dentist commented, when he was left alone. He picked up a sheaf of +stock certificates and eyed them critically. "They're nicer than the Placer +Mining ones. They just look fit to eat." + +He locked the certificates of stock in the new company into a tiny safe, +and prepared to pull down the shade. In the railroad yards below, the great +eyes of the locomotives glared though the March dusk. As the suburban +trains pulled out from minute to minute, thick wreaths of smoke shot up +above the white steam blasts of the surrounding buildings. The smoke and +steam were sucked together into the vortex of a cross street. + +'I wished I hadn't let her go alone,' the dentist mused. 'Some day she'll +just go over there into the lake.' + +When Mrs. Preston shut the dentist's door behind her, an office door on the +opposite side of the hall opened abruptly, and a young man strode into the +hall. She recognized him as the young surgeon who had operated upon her +husband at St. Isidore's. She stepped behind the iron grating of the +elevator well and watched him as he waited for the steel car to bob up from +the lower stories. She was ashamed to meet him, especially now that she +felt committed to the sordid future. + +The little car arrived; the doctor stepped in and disappeared. The door +from which he came was covered with a long list of names. She read the name +freshly painted in at the bottom,--Dr. Howard Sommers. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +For Sommers had joined the staff of the great specialist, and resorted +daily to the busy offices in the Athenian Building. A brief vacation had +served to convince him of the folly that lay in indulging a parcel of +incoherent prejudices at the expense of even that somewhat nebulous thing +popularly called a "career." Dr. Lindsay made flattering offers; the work +promised to be light, with sufficient opportunity for whatever hospital +practice he cared to take; and the new aspect of his profession--commercial +medicine he dubbed it--was at least entertaining. If one wished to see the +people of Chicago at near range,--those who had made the city what it is, +and were making it what it will be,--this was pretty nearly the best chance +in the world. + +When he had mentioned Lindsay's offer to Dresser, who was rising at +laborious hours and toiling in the McNamara and Hill's offices, he realized +how unmentionable and trifling were his grounds for hesitation. Dresser's +enthusiasm almost persuaded him that Lindsay had given him something +valuable. And if he found it difficult to explain his distaste for the +thing to Dresser, what would he have to say to other people--to the +Hitchcocks? Yet he made his reservations to himself at least: he was not +committed to his "career"; he should be merely a spectator, a free-lance, a +critic, who keeps the precious treasure of his own independence. Almost at +the start, however, he was made to realize that this nonchalance, which +vindicated himself in his own eyes, could not be evident to others. As he +was entering the Athenian hive one morning, he passed the Hitchcock +brougham drawn up by the curb near a jeweller's shop. Miss Hitchcock, who +was preparing to alight, gave him a cordial smile and an intelligent glance +that was not without a trace of malice. When he crossed the pavement to +speak to her, she fulfilled the malice of her glance: + +"You find Dr. Lindsay isn't so bad, after all?" There was no time for +explanation. She passed on into the jeweller's with another smile on her +mobile face. He had to do his stammering to himself, annoyed at the quip of +triumph, at the blithe sneer, over his young vaporings. This trivial +annoyance was accentuated by the effusive cordiality of the great Lindsay, +whom he met in the elevator. Sommers did not like this _camaraderie_ +of manner. He had seen Lindsay snub many a poor interne. In his mail, this +same morning, came a note from Mrs. E. G. Carson, inviting him to dinner: a +sign that something notable was expected of his career, for the Carsons +were thrifty of their favors, and were in no position to make social +experiments. Such was the merry way of the world, elsewhere as here, he +reflected, as he turned to the routine of the day. + +The office was in full blast: the telephones rang sharply every few +minutes, telling in their irritable little clang of some prosperous patient +who desired a panacea for human ailments; the reception-room was already +crowded with waiting patients of the second class, those who could not +command appointments by telephone. Whenever the door into this room opened, +these expectant ones moved nervously, each one hoping to be called. Then, +as the door into the private offices closed, the ones left behind fell back +with sighs to the magazines and illustrated papers with which they sought +to distract their fears or their ennui. + +The thin, tall building shivered slightly at the blows of the fresh April +wind. The big windows of the reception-room admitted broad bands of +sunlight. The lake dazzled beneath in gorgeous green and blue shades. +Spring had bustled into town from the prairies, insinuating itself into the +dirty, cavernous streets, sailing in boisterously over the gleaming lake, +eddying in steam wreaths about the lofty buildings. The subtle monitions of +the air permeated the atmosphere of antiseptics in the office, and whipped +the turbulent spirits of Sommers until, at the lunch hour, he deserted the +Athenian Building and telephoned for his horse. + +This saddle horse was one of the compensations for conformity. He had been +too busy lately, however, to enjoy it. From the bellow of the city he +cantered down the boulevards toward the great parks. As he passed the +Hitchcock house he was minded to see if Miss Hitchcock would join him. In +the autumn she had ridden with him occasionally, waiving conventionalities, +but lately she had made excuses. He divined that Parker Hitchcock had +sneered at such countrified behavior. She was to go away in a few days for +a round of visits in the South, and he wanted to see her; but a carriage +drew up before the house, and his horse carried him briskly past down the +avenue. From one boulevard to another he passed, keeping his eyes straight +ahead, avoiding the sight of the comfortable, ugly houses, anxious to +escape them and their associations, pressing on for a beyond, for something +other than this vast, roaring, complacent city. The great park itself was +filled with people, carriages, bicycles. A stream of carts and horse-back +riders was headed for the Driving Club, where there was tennis and the new +game of golf. But Sommers turned his horse into the disfigured Midway, +where the Wreck of the Fair began. He came out, finally, on a broad stretch +of sandy field, south of the desolate ruins of the Fair itself. The horse +picked his way daintily among the debris of staff and wood that lay +scattered about for acres. A wagon road led across this waste land toward +the crumbling Spanish convent. In this place there was a fine sense of +repose, of vast quiet. Everything was dead; the soft spring air gave no +life. Even in the geniality of the April day, with the brilliant, +theatrical waters of the lake in the distance, the scene was gaunt, savage. +To the north, a broad dark shadow that stretched out into the lake defined +the city. Nearer, the ample wings of the white Art Building seemed to stand +guard against the improprieties of civilization. To the far south, a line +of thin trees marked the outer desert of the prairie. Behind, in the west, +were straggling flat-buildings, mammoth deserted hotels, one of which was +crowned with a spidery steel tower. Nearer, a frivolous Grecian temple had +been wheeled to the confines of the park, and dumped by the roadside to +serve as a saloon. + +Sommers rose in his stirrups and gazed about him over the rotting buildings +of the play-city, the scrawny acres that ended in the hard black line of +the lake, the vast blocks of open land to the south, which would go to make +some new subdivision of the sprawling city. Absorbed, charmed, grimly +content with the abominable desolation of it all, he stood and gazed. No +evidence of any plan, of any continuity in building, appeared upon the +waste: mere sporadic eruptions of dwellings, mere heaps of brick and mortar +dumped at random over the cheerless soil. Above swam the marvellous +clarified atmosphere of the sky, like iridescent gauze, showering a +thousand harmonies of metallic colors. Like a dome of vitrified glass, it +shut down on the illimitable, tawdry sweep of defaced earth. + +The horse started: a human figure, a woman's dress, disturbing here in the +desert expanse, had moved in front of him. Sommers hit the horse with his +crop and was about to gallop on, when something in the way the woman held +herself caught his attention. She was leaning against the wind, her skirt +streaming behind her, her face thrust into the air. Sommers reined in his +horse and jumped down. + +"How is your husband?" he asked brusquely. + +Mrs. Preston looked up with a smile of glad recognition, but she did not +answer immediately. + +"You remember, don't you?" the doctor said kindly. "You are Mrs. Preston, +aren't you? I am the doctor who operated on your husband a few weeks ago at +the hospital." + +"Yes, I remember," she replied, almost sullenly. + +"How is he? I left St. Isidore's the next day. Is he still in the +hospital?" + +"They discharged him last Monday," Mrs. Preston answered, in the same dull +tone. + +"Ah!" The doctor jerked the bridle which he held in his left hand and +prepared to mount. "So he made a quick recovery." + +"No, no! I didn't say that," she replied passionately. "You knew, you knew +_that_ couldn't be. He has--he is--I don't know how to say it." + +Sommers slipped the bridle-rein over the horse's head and walked on by her +side. She looked down at the roadway, as if to hide her burning face. + +"Where is he now?" the doctor asked, finally, more gently. + +"With me, down there." Mrs. Preston waved her hand vaguely toward the +southern prairie. They began to walk more briskly, with a tacit purpose in +their motion. When the wagon road forked, Mrs. Preston took the branch that +led south out of the park. It opened into a high-banked macadamized avenue +bordered by broken wooden sidewalks. The vast flat land began to design +itself, as the sun faded out behind the irregular lines of buildings two +miles to the west. A block south, a huge red chimney was pouring tranquilly +its volume of dank smoke into the air. On the southern horizon a sooty +cloud hovered above the mills of South Chicago. But, except for the monster +chimney, the country ahead of the two was bare, vacant, deserted. The +avenue traversed empty lots, mere squares of sand and marsh, cut up in +regular patches for future house-builders. Here and there an advertising +landowner had cemented a few rods of walk and planted a few trees to trap +the possible purchaser into thinking the place "improved." But the cement +walks were crumbling, the trees had died, and rank thorny weeds choked +about their roots. The cross streets were merely lined out, a deep ditch on +either side of an embankment. + +"My God, what a place!" the young doctor exclaimed. "The refuse acres of +the earth." + +The woman smiled bitterly, tranquilly, while her glance roamed over the +familiar landscape. + +"Yet it is better than the rest, back there," she protested, in a low +voice. "At least, there is something open, and a little green in spring, +and the nights are calm. It seems the least little bit like what it used to +be in Wisconsin on the lake. But there we had such lovely woodsy hills, and +great meadows, and fields with cattle, and God's real peace, not this +vacuum." Her voice grew faint. + +"You liked it there?" the doctor asked musingly. + +"It's all that I have ever known that was--as it should be. My father had a +farm," she explained more easily, "and until he died and I was sent to +Rockminster College to school, my life was there, by the lake, on the farm, +at the seminary on the hill, where my brother was studying--" + +The visions of the past developed with endless clews, which she could not +follow aloud. After waiting for her to resume, Sommers asked tentatively: + +"Why don't you go back, then?" + +She flashed a rapid, indignant glance at him. + +"Now! Go back to what?--With _him_!" + +Her lips set tight. He had been stupid, had hit at random. + +"No, no," she continued, answering her own heart; "they would never +understand. There is never any going back--and, sometimes, not much going +ahead," she ended, with an effort to laugh. + +They stopped while the horse nibbled at a tall weed in the roadway. They +had got fairly into the prairie, and now at some distance on left and right +gawky Queen Anne houses appeared. But along their path the waste was +unbroken. The swamp on either side of the road was filled with birds, who +flew in and out and perched on the dry planks in the walks. An abandoned +electric-car track, raised aloft on a high embankment, crossed the avenue. +Here and there a useless hydrant thrust its head far above the muddy soil, +sometimes out of the swamp itself. They had left the lake behind them, but +the freshening evening breeze brought its damp breath across their faces. + +"How came you to get into this spot?" the doctor asked, after his searching +eyes had roamed over the misty landscape, half swamp, half city suburb. + +"I was transferred--about the time of the operation. My school is over +there," she pointed vaguely toward the southwest. "I could not afford to +live any distance from the school," she added bluntly. "Besides, I wanted +to be alone." + +So she taught, Sommers reflected, yet she had none of the professional air, +the faded niceness of face and manner which he associated with the city +school-teacher. + +"I haven't taught long," she volunteered, "only about a year. First I was +over by Lincoln Park, near where I had been living." + +"Do you like the teaching?" Sommers asked. + +"I hate it," she remarked calmly, without any show of passion. "It takes a +little of one's life every day, and leaves you a little more dead." + +They walked in silence for a few minutes, and then Mrs. Preston suddenly +stopped. + +"Why do you come?" she exclaimed. "Why do you want to know? It can do no +good,--I know it can do no good, and it is worse to have any +one--_you_--know the hateful thing. I want to crush it in myself, +never to tell, no,--no one," she stopped incoherently. + +"I shall go," the doctor replied calmly, compassionately. "And it is best +to tell." + +Her rebellious face came back to its wonted repose. + +"Yes, I suppose I make it worse. It is best to tell--sometime." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +As they proceeded, more briskly now, she talked of her life in the Chicago +schools. She had taken the work when nothing else offered in the day of her +calamity. She described the struggle for appointment. If it had not been +for her father's old friend, a dentist, she would never have succeeded in +entering the system. A woman, she explained, must be a Roman Catholic, or +have some influence with the Board, to get an appointment. Qualifications? +She had had a better education in the Rockminster school than was required, +but if a good-natured schoolteacher hadn't coached her on special points in +pedagogy, school management, nature-study, etc., she would never have +passed the necessary examinations. + +In an impersonal way she described the life of a teacher in a great +American school system: its routine, its spying supervision, its +injustices, its mechanical ideals, its one preeminent ambition to teach as +many years as it was necessary to obtain a pension. There were the +superintendents, the supervisors, the special teachers, the +principals--petty officers of a petty tyranny in which too often seethed +gossip, scandal, intrigue. There were the "soft places"; the deceitful, the +easy, the harsh principals; the teachers' institutes to which the poor +teacher was forced to pay her scanty dollars. There were bulletins, rules, +counter-rules. As she talked, Sommers caught the atmosphere of the great +engine to which she had given herself. A mere isolated atom, she was set in +some obscure corner of this intricate machine, and she was compelled to +revolve with the rest, as the rest, in the fear of disgrace and of hunger. +The terms "special teachers," "grades of pay," "constructive work," +"discipline," etc., had no special significance to him, typifying merely +the exactions of the mill, the limitations set about the human atom. + +Her manner of telling it all was unpremeditated, incoherent, and +discursive, and yet strangely effective. She described the contortions of +her kaleidoscope as they came to mind haphazard, with an indifference, a +precise objectivity that made the picture all the more real and universal, +not the special story of the special case. + +"The first weeks I was nearly lost; the drawing teacher didn't like me, and +reported my room for disorder; the 'cat'--that is what they call the +principal--kept running in and watching, and the pupils--there were +seventy-five--I could barely keep them quiet. There was no teaching. How +could one teach all those? Most of our time, even in 'good' rooms, is taken +up in keeping order. I was afraid each day would be my last, when Miss +M'Gann, who was the most friendly one of the teachers, told me what to do. +'Give the drawing teacher something nice from your lunch, and ask her in to +eat with you. She is an ignorant old fool, but her brother is high up in a +German ward. And give the cat taffy. Ask him how he works out the +arithmetic lessons, and about his sassing the assistant superintendent, and +make yourself agreeable.' + +"I did as I was told," she ended with a smile, "and things went better for +a time. But there was always the married teachers' scare. Every month or so +some one starts the rumor that the Board is going to remove all married +teachers; there are complaints that the married women crowd out the +girls--those who have to support themselves." + +They both laughed at the irony of the argument, and their laugh did much to +do away with the constraint, the tension of their mood. More gayly she +mentioned certain farcical incidents. + +"Once I saw a principal hurl a book at a sleepy teacher, who was nodding in +his lecture at the Institute. Poor woman! she is so nearly deaf that she +can hear nothing, and they say she can never remember where the lessons +are: the pupils conduct the recitations. But she has taught in that school +for twenty-three years, and she is a political influence in the ward. +Imagine it!" + +They laughed again, and the world seemed lighter. Sommers looked at his +companion more closely and appreciatively. Her tone of irony, of amused and +impartial spectatorship, entertained him. Would he, caught like this, +wedged into an iron system, take it so lightly, accept it so humanly? It +was the best the world held out for her: to be permitted to remain in the +system, to serve out her twenty or thirty years, drying up in the thin, hot +air of the schoolroom; then, ultimately, when released, to have the means +to subsist in some third-rate boarding-house until the end. Or marry again? +But the dark lines under the eyes, the curve of experience at the mouth, +did not warrant that supposition. She had had her trial of that +alternative. + +She did not question him, and evinced no curiosity about his world. She had +touched it on the extreme edge, and she was content with that, satisfied +probably that this unexpected renewal of their connection was most +casual--too fortunate to happen again. So she took him into a perfectly +easy intimacy; it was the nearness that comes between two people when there +is slight probability of a common future. + +At last she turned into one of the streets that crossed the avenue at long +intervals. This one was more developed than those they had passed: a row of +gigantic telephone poles stretched along its side; two car tracks in use +indicated that it was a thoroughfare. At the corner there was an +advertising sign of The Hub Clothing House; and beneath, on one spoke of a +tiny hub, _This is Ninety-first Street_; and at right angles on +another spoke, _This is Washington Avenue_. He remembered vaguely +having seen a Washington Avenue miles to the north. The thing had been +drawn on the map by a ruler, without regard to habitations; on the map it +probably went on into Indiana, to the Ohio River,--to the Gulf for all he +knew. + +Yet the cross-road was more promising than anything they had met: a truck +farm bordered one side; a line of tall willows suggested faintly the +country. Just beyond the tracks of a railroad the ground rose almost +imperceptibly, and a grove of stunted oaks covered the miniature hill. The +bronzed leaves still hanging from the trees made something like shade +beside the road. + +"That is better," Sommers exclaimed, relieved to find a little oasis in the +desert of sand and weeds. + +The woman smiled. "It is almost a forest; it runs south for a block. And +beyond there is the loveliest meadow, all tender green now. Over there you +can see the Everglade School, where I spend my days. The people are Swedes, +mostly,--operatives in the factories at Grand Crossing and on the +railroads. Many of the children can scarcely understand a word of +English,--and their habits! But they are better than the Poles, in the +Halsted Street district, or the Russians in another West Side district. And +we have a brick building, not rooms rented in a wooden house. And the +principal is an old woman, too fat to climb all the stairs to my room. So I +am left alone to reign among my young barbarians." + +When they reached the grove, Mrs. Preston crossed the car tracks and +entered a little grassy lane that skirted the stunted oaks. A few hundred +feet from the street stood a cottage built of yellow "Milwaukee" brick. It +was quite hidden from the street by the oak grove. The lane ended just +beyond in a tangle of weeds and undergrowth. On the west side there was an +open, marshy lot which separated the cottage in the trees from Stoney +Island Avenue,--the artery that connects Pullman and the surrounding +villages with Chicago. + +An old German had lived in it, Mrs. Preston explained, until his death a +year or two ago. He had a little chicken farm. As no one else wanted to +live in such a desolate place, so far from the scattered hamlets, she had +got it for a small rent. The house was a tiny imitation of a castle, with +crenelated parapet and tower. Crumbling now and weather-stained, it had a +quaint, human, wistful air. Its face was turned away from the road toward a +bit of garden, which was fenced off from the lane by arbors of grape-vines. + +Sommers tied his horse to the gate post. Mrs. Preston did not speak after +they reached the house. Her face had lost its animation. They stood still +for some time, gazing into the peaceful garden plot and the bronzed oaks +beyond, as if loath to break the intimacy of the last half hour. In the +solitude, the dead silence of the place, there seemed to lurk misfortune +and pain. Suddenly from a distance sounded the whirr of an electric car, +passing on the avenue behind them. The noise came softened across the open +lot--a distant murmur from the big city that was otherwise so remote. + +The spring twilight had descended, softening all brutal details. The broad +horizon above the lake was piled deep with clouds. Beyond the oak trees, in +the southern sky, great tongues of flame shot up into the dark heavens out +of the blast furnaces of the steel works. Deep-toned, full-throated frogs +had begun their monotonous chant. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"Shall we go in?" the doctor asked at last. + +Mrs. Preston started, and her hand closed instinctively upon the gate, as +if to bar further entrance to her privacy. Then without reply she opened +the gate, led the way across the tiny lawn, and unlocked the cottage door. +They entered a large room, from which some narrow stairs led to the +chambers above. Floor and walls were bare, and the only furniture consisted +of two wooden chairs, a small coal-stove, and a pine table of considerable +size. This was covered with books, school exercises, and a few dishes. Mrs. +Preston brusquely flung off her cape and hat, and faced the doctor. + +"I might as well tell you the main thing before you see him. He--" + +"That is scarcely necessary," Sommers replied gently. "I probably know what +you are thinking of." + +A flush, caused by the revealed shame, crept over her face, lighting it to +the extreme corners under the temples and ears. As she stood there, +humiliated, yet defiant of him and of the world, Sommers remembered the +first time he had seen her that night at the hospital. He read her, +somehow, extraordinarily well; he knew the misery, the longing, the anger, +the hate, the stubborn power to fight. Her deep eyes glanced at him +frankly, willing to be read by this stranger out of the multitude of men. +They had no more need of words now than at that first moment in the +operating room at St. Isidore's. They were man and woman, in the presence +of a fate that could not be softened by words. + +"You are right," she said softly. "Yet sometime I want to tell you +things--not now. I will go and see how he is." + +When she had left the room, Sommers examined the few objects about him in +the manner of a man who draws his conclusions from innumerable, +imponderable data. Then he took a chair to the window and sat down. She was +very real to him, this woman, and compelling, with her silences, her broken +phrases. Rarely, very rarely before in his life, had he had this experience +of intimacy without foreknowledge, without background--the sense of dealing +with a human soul nakedly. + +"Will you come now?" + +Mrs. Preston had returned and held the stair-door open for him. Sommers +looked at her searchingly, curious to find where this power lay. Her face +had grown white and set. The features and the figure were those of a large +woman. Her hair, bronzed in the sunlight as he remembered, was dark in the +gloom of this room. The plain, symmetrical arrangement of the hair above +the large brow and features made her seem older than she was. The deep-set +eyes, the quivering lips, and the thin nostrils gave life to the passive, +restrained face. The passions of her life lay just beneath the surface of +flesh. + +"He is very talkative, and wanders--" + +The doctor nodded and followed her up the steep stairs, which were closed +at the head by a stout door. The upper story was divided about equally into +two rooms. The east room, to which Mrs. Preston opened the door, was +plainly furnished, yet in comparison with the room below it seemed almost +luxurious. Two windows gave a clear view above the little oak copse, the +lines of empty freight cars on the siding, and a mile of low meadow that +lay between the cottage and the fringe of settlement along the lake. +Through another window at the north the bleak prospect of Stoney Island +Avenue could be seen, flanked on one side by a huge sign over a saloon. +Near this window on a lounge lay the patient. + +Preston's personal appearance had not improved during his illness: his +face, over the lower half of which a black beard had grown rankly, was +puffy with convalescent fat. His hands that drummed idly against the couch +were white and flabby. As he half rose and extended his hand to the doctor, +he betrayed, indefinably, remote traces of superior breeding. + +"Excuse me, doctor," he said apologetically. "Mrs. Preston keeps me a close +prisoner. But she won't have the whip-hand very long." + +He laughed boisterously, as Sommers shook hands and sat down. + +"Women know they've got you while you are sick. They like to keep an eye on +a man, eh?" + +He laughed again, confidentially, as if the doctor, being a man, would +appreciate the point. Then he continued, nervously, without pause: + +"But I have some business to attend to. I must get out of this as soon as +you can patch me up so I can walk straight. I ought to have been in Denver +a month ago. There's a man out there, who comes in from his ranch two +hundred miles to see me. He is a fine fellow, strapping, big six-footer. +_He_ knows how to put in his time day and night, when he gets to town. +I remember one time we were in Frisco together--ever been in Frisco? It's a +great place for a good dinner, and all you want to drink. Drink--my! I've +seen the time--" + +He rambled on, now and then pausing to laugh boisterously at some +recollection. As his whirligig tale touched upon indecent episodes, his +voice lowered and he sought for convenient euphemisms, helped out by +sympathetic nods. Mrs. Preston made several attempts to interrupt his +aimless, wandering talk; but he started again each time, excited by the +presence of the doctor. His mind was like a bag of loosely associated +ideas. Any jar seemed to set loose a long line of reminiscences, very +vaguely connected. The doctor encouraged him to talk, to develop himself, +to reveal the story of his roadside debaucheries. He listened attentively, +evincing an interest in the incoherent tale. Mrs. Preston watched the +doctor's face with restless eyes. + +Finally Preston ended his husky monotone in a querulous entreaty. "I need a +little whiskey to keep me going. Tell _her_, won't you?--to let me +have a little drink. My regular allowance was a pint a day, and I haven't +had a drop for four weeks. Your Chicago whiskey is rotten bad, though, I +tell you. I just stepped into a place to get a drink with Joe Campbell--his +father owns a big pulp mill in Michigan--well--we had one or two drinks, +and the first thing I knew there was shooting all over the place, and some +one grabbed me, and I was thrown into the street--" + +Mrs. Preston exclaimed, "Do you want to hear _more_?" + +Sommers rose. "I'll come again to see you, Mr. Preston, and I will leave +something that will help you. Good night." + +"It was good of you to take this interest, doctor. I am glad to have met +you, Doctor--?" + +"Sommers," suggested the doctor, smiling at the evidences of forgotten +breeding that cropped out of the general decay. + +"Well, Dr. Sommers, I hope we shall meet again when I am more myself." + + +When they returned to the room below, Mrs. Preston lit a lamp. After some +minutes Sommers asked, "How long has this been going on?" + +"For years--before he left college; he was taken out of Yale because of it. +All I know is what he tells when he is not--responsible." + +"Ah!" the doctor exclaimed involuntarily. + +"_I_ never knew," Mrs. Preston added quickly, "until we had been +married a year. He was away so much of the time, and he was very different +then--I mean he didn't ramble on as he does now. He was not flabby and +childish, not before the operation." + +The doctor turned his face away. + +"About two years ago some of the men he was with brought him home, drunk. +Afterward he didn't seem to care. But he was away most of the time, +travelling, going from place to place, always living in hotels, always +drinking until some illness brought him back." + +"And this time?" the doctor asked. + +Mrs. Preston shut her lips, as if there were things she could not say yet. + +"I was not living with him." In a few moments, she continued quietly: "I +suppose I should have been but for one thing. He told me he was going to +New York, and I found him with another woman, living in a hotel not a mile +from our home. I don't know why I should have made so much of that. I had +suspected for months that there were other women; but seeing it, knowing +that he knew I had seen it! I nearly starved before I got work." + +Confession, the details, the whole story, appealed to her evidently as +obvious, typical, useless. She tried to select simple words, to leave the +facts undimmed by passionate speech. + +"As I told you, an old friend of my father's helped me to get work. That +kept me from ending it just there. As the months went on and he did not try +to find me, I got used to the round, to the school, the living on, dead and +alive. I thought of getting a divorce, of finding some country school in +another state. Dr. Leonard urged me to. I might have--I don't know. But +accidentally _he_ was brought back. I was going home from a teachers' +meeting that night. I saw him lying on the pavement, thrown out of the +saloon, as he told you. A crowd gathered. He was unconscious. I wanted to +run away, to leave him, to escape. He groaned. I couldn't--I couldn't." + +She sighed wearily at the memory of her illogical act. The doctor nodded +sympathetically. It was a fatal moment, the point of decision in her life. +He understood what it meant to her. + +"There was no one else to take him--to be responsible. He had been mine. +After all, the divorce would have made no difference; it never can. You +have to take your failures; you have to endure." + +"Has he any relatives?" Sommers asked. + +"A few; they were done with him long ago. They had money, and they wanted +to get rid of him. They put him into a business that would keep him away +from them; that would give him the best chance to kill himself--going about +everywhere, always travelling, always with men who drink and live in hotels +as he has. They shoved him into the world to let the world, or any one who +would, take care of him." + +It had been her lot, because of the error of her incompetent heart, to take +charge of this flotsam. That was so evident that she had given up seeking +for escape. + +"He is helpless now," she added, as for excuse. "It would be cruel." + +For a moment the doctor's face looked hard. Was it, he seemed to be turning +over in his mind, that she loved him a little in the depths of her heart? +That was an irritating trait of feminine stupidity. But one intelligent +glance at her calm face rendered that supposition impossible. She was +merely largely human, with a sense of remote claims. + +"And now what will you do?" he asked. + +Her eyes were brooding on that now. Finally she exclaimed with an impatient +gesture: + +"How can I tell! He may get strong enough to leave me--in peace. He may +come back again to rest and get well. And that may go on and on until one +of us dies, or I am discharged. As I told you, they are trying now to +exclude married teachers from the schools. And I am married!" + +Sommers saw that she had faced the sordid situation; that she expected no +relief from the clouds. He got up and looked at his watch. + +"I shall come again. We will see what can be done." + +This was a convention of the profession. Nothing could be done for that +man, and he knew it. She knew it also. She smiled mournfully as they shook +hands. Yet as he moved toward the door she asked in a low tone: + +"Won't you tell me what you call it? There is no use in not telling me." + +"Paresis," Sommers replied shortly. As her face was still inquiring, he +added: "Brain trouble. In his case a kind of decay of the tissue; perhaps +inherited, certainly hastened by his habits, probably precipitated by the +operation." + +His glance met hers, and they both fell silent before the common thought. +In the practice of his profession he had done this for her, in obedience to +the cowardly rules of that profession. He had saved life--animation--to +this mass of corruption. Except for his skill, this waste being would have +gone its way quietly to death, thereby purifying all life by that little. +He added at last in a mechanical tone: + +"That results sometimes from such an operation. You can't tell how it will +affect the brain, especially when the history of the case is a bad one. He +will have to be sent away to an institution if--; but the only thing now +is to wait to see what will happen. Good night. I shall see you in a few +days," he concluded abruptly. + +He was determined to speculate no more, to give her no hopes that might +prove groundless. The future was uncertain: the patient might have +convulsions, paralysis, locomotor ataxia, mere imbecility with normal +physical functions, or intermittent insanity. It was highly unprofessional +to speculate in this loose fashion about the outcome of an operation. + +Mrs. Preston watched him as he crossed the lawn and untied his horse. She +had not thanked him for coming, for promising to come again, he reflected +with relief. She was no weak, dependent fool. He rode down the sodded lane, +and as his horse picked his way carefully toward the avenue where the +electric cars were shooting back and forth like magnified fireflies, he +turned in his saddle to look once more at the cottage. One light gleamed +from the room he had just left. He could see the outline of the woman's +form standing by the open window. The place was lonely and forbidding +enough, isolated and withdrawn as the life of the woman within it. She was +set apart with the thing that had been man stretched out above in stupor, +or restlessly babbling over his dirty tale. God knew why! Yet, physician +and unsentimental thinker that he was, he felt to a certain degree the +inevitableness of her fate. The common thing would be to shake the dirt +from one's shoes, to turn one's back on the diseased and mistaken being, +"to put it away where it would not trouble,"--but she did not seek to +escape. + +And he had been the instrument to execute for her this decree of fate, to +bind it permanently, a lifetime curse. + +The frogs were making merry in the marshy fields along the avenue. Their +robust chorus mingled with the whir of the cars. Soft, dark clouds were +driving lakeward. The blast furnaces of the steel works in South Chicago +silently opened and belched flame, and silently closed again. A rosy vapor, +as from some Tartarean breathing, hovered about the mouths of the furnaces. +Moment by moment these mouths opened and belched and closed. It was the +fiery respiration of a gigantic beast, of a long worm whose dark body +enveloped the smoky city. The beast heaved and panted and rested, again and +again--the beast that lay on its belly for many a mile, whose ample stomach +was the city, there northward, hid in smoke. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Long after the horse's hoofs had ceased to beat in the still evening, Mrs. +Preston sat by the open window in the bare cottage room, her head resting +on her arms, her eyes peering into the soft darkness in the path of the +shadowy figure that had passed down Stoney Island Avenue into the night +beyond her ken. She had not asked him to return. But he had promised to. +Indeed, he did not seem to be far away: she could feel his gentle eyes, his +imperious face, his sympathetic voice. It was not much that she could make +of him; but her imagination built gratefully on his few words and simple +acts, until he became--as when he had spoken to her at the hospital--a +masterful spirit, dominating that vague, warm land of dreams in which she +took refuge during waking hours. + +She should see him again--she must see him again, that was all. And yet +what was the good of it? Only a new pain in thus revealing her sores--a +pain mixed with a subtle anaesthetic, sweeter than anything she had known +in this life. In the end she would have to do without this anodyne; would +have to meet her hard and brutal world. Just now, while the yoke was hot to +the neck, she might take this mercy to temper the anguish. On the long hill +road before her it would be a grateful memory. It seemed now that she had +put herself to the yoke, had taken the hill road very lightly. She had not +thought of accepting the dentist's advice. With the fierce energy of her +crushed, spoiled youth, she had taken her measures: had found this little +cottage, hid in the oak copse; had prepared it with her own hands; had gone +to the hospital to fetch her husband. That never ending journey from the +hospital to the cottage! His ceaseless babble, the foul overflow from his +feeble mind, had sapped her courage. + +Her head dropped weakly upon her arms; useless tears started. Before that +day she had had some joy in this cottage. There were glorious sunrises from +the lake and sunsets over the desolate marshes. The rank swamp grasses were +growing long, covering decently the unkempt soil. At night, alone, she had +comfort in the multitudinous cries from the railroads that ribbed the +prairie in this outskirt of the city. The shrieks of the locomotives were +like the calls of great savage birds, raising their voices melodiously as +they fled to and fro into the roaring cavern of the city, outward to the +silent country, to the happier, freer regions of man. As they rushed, they +bore her with them to those shadowy lands far away in the sweet stillness +of summer-scented noons, in the solemn quiet of autumn nights. Her days +were beset with visions like these--visions of a cool, quiet, tranquil +world; of conditions of peace; of yearnings satisfied; of toil that did not +lacerate. Yes! that world was, somewhere. Her heart was convinced of it, as +her father's had been convinced of the reality of paradise. That which she +had never been, that which she could not be now--it must exist somewhere. +Singularly childish it seemed even to herself, this perpetual obsession by +the desire for happiness,--inarticulate, unformed desire. It haunted her, +night and morning, haunted her as the desire for food haunts the famished, +the desire for action the prisoned. It urged on her footsteps in the still +afternoons as she wandered over this vast waste of houseless blocks. Up and +down the endless checker-board of empty streets and avenues she had roamed, +gleaning what joys were to be had in the metallic atmosphere, the stunted +copses, the marshy pools spotted with the blue shields of fleur-de-lys. For +even here, in the refuse corner of the great city, Nature doled out +niggardly gifts of green growth--proofs of her unquenchable bounty. + +This hunger for joy had included no desire for companionship. When her +child died, the last person had slipped out of her world. To-night there +was a strange, almost fearful sense that this vacant, tenantless life might +change. Was there some one among these dull figures that would take life, +speak, touch _her_? + +There was a movement in the rooms above. She started. Had she locked the +door securely? Preston had tried before to drag himself out of the cottage, +across the intervening lot, to the saloon on Stoney Island Avenue, whose +immense black and gold sign he could see from his chamber. That must not +happen here, in the neighborhood of the Everglade School. She must keep him +well concealed until he should be strong enough to go far away, on the old +round of travel and debauch, from city to city, wearing out his brutishness +and returning to her only when spent. + +The movements above increased. He was pounding at the door. + +"Are you going to let me starve? Where are you?" the sick man called out +querulously. + +She sprang up; she had forgotten to get supper. When she took the food +upstairs, Preston was dragging himself about the room. He was excited, and +anxious to talk. + +"Did that doctor fix me up? I don't remember seeing him in the hospital." + +"He operated when you were received. He left the next day," she answered. + +"It must have been a neat job. I guess I was in a pretty tough state," he +mused more quietly. "How did he happen to look me up?" + +"I met him accidentally in the park," she explained briefly, anxious to +have done with the subject. "He offered to come back with me to see you. +Perhaps," she added more bitterly, "he wanted to see what he had done." + +"I suppose he knows?" + +She nodded. + +"Well, I can't see why he bothers around. I don't want his attentions." + +As she prepared to leave the room, after pulling down the shades and +opening the bed, he said apologetically: + +"It was pretty good of you to take me in after--I have treated you badly, +Alves. But it's no use in going back over that. I guess I was made so. +There are lots of men like that, or worse." + +"I suppose so," she assented coldly. + +"Why are you so stiff with me? You hardly look at me, and you touch me as +if I were a piece of dirt. Supposing I take a brace and we start over, +somewhere else? I am tired of knocking round. Come over and kiss me, won't +you?" + +Mrs. Preston paused in her work, the color mounting in her face. At first +she made no reply, but as she crossed to the door, she said in a cool, +distant tone: + +"I don't think I shall ever kiss you again or let you touch me, if I can +help it. Do you happen to remember where I saw you last--I mean before I +found you in the street--six months ago?" + +His face grew troubled, as if he were trying to recollect. + +"Oh! that woman? Well, that's past." + +"Yes, that woman. I took you here," she continued, her full voice gathering +passion, "because you are helpless and an outcast. And because I had taken +you before, ignorantly, I feel bound to defend you as you never defended +_me_. But I am not bound to do more, and you have sense enough--" + +"You were ready enough to bind yourself, if I remember." + +She answered meekly: + +"I can't think it was the same woman who did that--who was blind and cheap +enough to do that. Something has shown me that I am other than the foolish +creature you took so easily with a marriage ring, because you could not +have her in an easier way! But the old, silly country girl has gone and +left me this----Why did it have to be?" she exclaimed more incoherently. +"Why did you not let me read what you are? I had only a few wretched weeks +to learn you--and I was ignorant and foolish and young. You had me helpless +at Barrington! Was it such a clever thing to cheat a girl from a Wisconsin +village?" + +Preston answered apologetically,-- + +"Well, I married you." + +"Married me! You make a good deal of that! Perhaps it would have been +better if you had not married me. My child and I could have died together +then. But I was _married_, and so I struggled. The child died, died, +do you hear, because you had left me without money to get it what it +needed. I sat and saw it die. You were--" + +She closed her lips as if to repress further words. As she reached the +door, she said in her usual neutral tones: + +"So long as you are decent, keep from drinking, and don't get me into +trouble at the school, you may stay and take what I can give you." + +"'May stay!'" Preston roared, getting to his feet and making a step to +intercept her before she closed the door. His legs trembled, and he fell. +She knelt over him to see if he had injured himself, and then satisfied +that he was not hurt, she left the room, barring the door from the outside. +She was none too soon in taking this precaution, for as she swung the heavy +oak bar into its socket,--a convenient device of the old German, who had +the reputation of being a miser,--she could hear Preston dragging himself +toward the door, cursing as he stumbled over the furniture. She crept +wearily downstairs into the bare room. Some one was moving in the tiny +kitchen beyond. + +"Is that you, Anna?" Mrs. Preston called. + +"Ye-es," a slow voice responded. Presently a young woman came forward. She +was large and very fair, with the pale complexion and intense blue eyes of +the Swede. + +"I came in and found no one here, so I was cleaning up for you. I have +time. John has gone to a meeting--there are many meetings now and not much +work. You will eat something?" + +She went back to the kitchen and returned with warm food. + +"Yes, I am faint." Mrs. Preston's arms trembled. She laughed nervously as +she spilled her tea. + +"You are not well? You cannot live so--it's no use," the strong Swede +continued monotonously. "The men are bad enough when they are good; but +when they are bad, a woman can do nothing." + +"Tell me about the strike." + +Anna Svenson laughed contemptuously, as if such affairs were a part of +men's foolishness. + +"They're talking of going out, all the railroad men, if the roads use the +Pullmans. That's what John has gone to see about. Work is hard to find, so +they're going to make less of it." + +She stood easily, her arms by her side, watching Mrs. Preston eat, and +talking in an even, unexcited tone. + +"Father likes the job I told you about--over at the lumber yards. He came +in last Sunday. He says the folks out his way are near starving. Svenson +thinks of quitting his job." + +She laughed gently. + +"Life is like that," Mrs. Preston assented. "You can't manage it." + +"No, why should one?" Anna Svenson replied coolly. "Children come, they +die, they grow up, they fight, they starve, and they have children. It was +so over there; it is so here--only more pay and more drink some days; less +pay, less drink other days. I shall wash the dishes. Sit still." + +She came and went quickly, noiselessly. When everything had been done, she +opened a window and leaned out, looking into the darkness. The fact of her +presence seemed to bring peace to the room. + +"It is a good night," she said, drawing her head in. "There, Svenson has +lit the lamp. I must go." + +"Good night, Anna." Mrs. Preston took her hand. It was large and cool. + +"You shake hands?" Mrs. Svenson asked, with a smile. "When I was working +out, people like you never shook hands." + +"People like me! What have I that makes me different from you?" + +"Oh, nothing; not much," she replied tranquilly. + +With a sigh Mrs. Preston took up a bundle of grammar exercises and sorted +them. She was too weary for this task: she could not go on just yet. She +drew her chair over to the window and sat there long quarter hours, +watching the electric cars. They announced themselves from a great distance +by a low singing on the overhead wire; then with a rush and a rumble the +big, lighted things dashed across the void, and rumbled on with a clatter +of smashing iron as they took the switches recklessly. The noise soothed +her; in the quiet intervals she was listening for sounds from upstairs. The +night was still and languorous, one of the peaceful nights of large spaces +when the heavens brood over the earth like a mother over a fretful child. +At last no more cars came booming out of the distance. She shut the windows +and bolted the door; then she prepared slowly to undress. + +For the first time in months she looked at herself curiously, taking an +impersonal, calm survey of this body. She sought for signs of slovenly +decay,--thinning rusty hair, untidy nails, grimy hands, dried skin,--those +marks which she had seen in so many teachers who had abandoned themselves +without hope to the unmarried state and had grown careless of their bodies. +As she wound her hair into heavy ropes and braided them, it gave her a +sharp sense of joy, this body of hers, so firm and warm with blood, so +unmarked by her sordid struggle. It was well to be one's self, to own the +tenement of the soul; for a time it had not been hers--she reddened with +the shame of the thought! But she had gained possession once more, never, +never to lose it. + +She listened carefully for noises from above; then flung herself on the +couch, utterly wearied. In a moment she was asleep, having shed the years +of pain, and a frank smile crept over the calm face. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +After giving the invalid his breakfast, and arranging him on his couch +where he could see the cars pass, Mrs. Preston hurried over to the +Everglade School, which was only two blocks west of Stoney Island Avenue. +At noon she slipped out, while the other teachers gathered in one of the +larger rooms to chat and unroll their luncheons. These were wrapped in +little fancy napkins that were carefully shaken and folded to serve for the +next day. As the Everglade teachers had dismissed Mrs. Preston from the +first as queer, her absence from the noon gossip was rather welcome, though +resented. + +The recess hour gave Mrs. Preston enough time to carry upstairs a cold +meal, to take a hasty nibble of food, and to hurry back across the vacant +lots before the gong should ring for the afternoon session. At the close of +school she returned to the cottage more deliberately, to finish her house +work before taking her daily walk. Occasionally she found this work already +performed; Anna Svenson's robust form would greet her as she entered the +cottage, with the apologetic phrase, "My fingers were restless." Mrs. +Svenson had an unquenchable appetite for work. The two women would have a +silent cup of tea; then Mrs. Svenson would smile in her broad, apathetic +manner, saying, "One lives, you see, after all," and disappear through the +oak copse. Thus very quickly between the school and the cottage Mrs. +Preston's day arranged itself in a routine. + +Three days after the unexpected visit from the doctor, Mrs. Preston found +on her return from the school a woman's bicycle leaning against the gate. +Under the arbor sat the owner of the bicycle, fanning herself with a little +"perky" hat. She wore a short plaid skirt, high shoes elaborately laced, +and a flaming violet waist. Her eyes were travelling over the cottage and +all its premises. + +"Miss M'Gann!" Mrs. Preston exclaimed. + +"My!" the young woman responded, "but they did send you to kingdom come. +You're the next thing, Alves, to Indiana. I do hope you can get out of this +soon." + +Mrs. Preston sat down beside her in the little arbor, and made polite +inquiries about the school where they had taught together, about Jane +M'Gann's "beaux," the "cat," and the "house" where she boarded. + +"It was good of you to come all this way to see me," she concluded. + +"I wanted a ride. We had a half day off--infectious disease in Rosa +Macraw's room. Besides, I told the girls I'd hunt you out. How _are_ +you? You look rather down. Say, you mustn't shut yourself off here where +folks can't get at you. Why don't you live up town, at the house?" + +"I can't," Mrs. Preston answered briefly. + +"Do you know the news? The 'cat' has gone up higher. They made him +supervisor, 'count of his sly walk, I guess. And we've got a new principal. +He's fine. You can just do what you want with him, if you handle him right. +Oh, do you know Rosemarry King, the girl that used to dress so queer, has +been discharged? She lived in bachelor-girl apartments with a lot of +artists, and they say they were pretty lively. And Miss Cohen is going to +be married, ain't coming back any more after this year. Some of us thought +we could work it so as the new principal--Hoff's his name--would ask to +have you transferred back to one of those places. There's just a chance. +Now I've told all my news and everything!" + +At that moment a man's figure appeared at an upper window. He was in a +dressing-gown, and unshaven. Miss M'Gann's keen vision spied him at once. + +"You'll get queer, if you stay here!" she said falteringly. +"I guess I am queer already," Mrs. Preston answered with a smile. "Let us +go inside and have some tea." + +Miss M'Gann looked the room over critically. + +"You must come down to the house some night soon and meet the principal. He +rides a wheel, and we girls see considerable of him. If you are nice to +him, he'll do anything--he is one of the soft kind, sweet on all women, and +likes a little adoration." + +"No, I don't believe I can." Mrs. Preston listened. There was noise in the +chamber above. "Besides, I like it out here. I like the quiet," she added. + +Miss M'Gann looked at her incredulously, as if she were waiting to hear +more. As nothing came, she went on: + +"We are having high times over the new readers. The 'cat' has done a set of +readers for the fourth and fifth. McNamara and Hills are bringing 'em out. +The Express Book Co. has a lot of money in the old ones, and they are +fighting hard to keep the cat's out of the schools. They're sending men +around to get reports from the teachers. There's a man, one of their +agents, who comes over to the house pretty often. He's a college man, was a +professor at Exonia." + +"Excuse me," Mrs. Preston interrupted. The continued noise in the room +overhead had made her more and more nervous. She had not heard Miss +M'Gann's story, which would probably be the preface of a tender personal +episode. "I will be back in a moment," she said, closing the sitting-room +door carefully. + +Miss M'Gann sat forward, listening intently. She could hear the stairs +creak under Mrs. Preston's quick steps; then there was silence; then an +angry voice, a man's voice. Excited by this mystery, she rose noiselessly +and set the hall door ajar. She could hear Alves Preston's voice: + +"You must not come down. You aren't fit." + +"Thank you for your advice," a man's voice replied. "Who's your visitor? +Some man? I am going to see. Don't make a scene." + +There was the sound of a scuffle; then the cry of a woman, as she fell back +exhausted from her physical struggle. + +"P'r'aps he's murdering her!" + +Miss M'Gann opened the door at the foot of the stairs wide enough to detect +a half-clothed man trying to pry open with one arm a heavy door above. She +hesitated for a moment, but when the man had shoved the door back a little +farther, enough for her to see Mrs. Preston struggling with all her force, +she called out: + +"Can I help you, Mrs. Preston?" + +"No, no, go back! Go out of the house!" + +"Well, I never!" Miss M'Gann ejaculated, and retreated to the sitting room, +leaving the door ajar, however. + +The struggle ended shortly, and soon the man appeared, plunging, tumbling +over the stairs. Wrenching open the front door he stumbled down the steps +to the road. He was hatless, collarless, and his feet were shod in +slippers. As he reached the gate he looked at himself as if accustomed to +take pride in his personal appearance, drew a handkerchief from his pocket +and wound it negligently about his neck. Then, gazing about to get his +bearings, he aimed for the road. Just as he crossed the car tracks, heading +for the saloon with the big sign, Mrs. Preston entered the room. Her face +was pale and drawn. Miss M'Gann was too embarrassed to speak, and she +pretended to look into the kitchen. + +"You will see now why I don't want a transfer," Mrs. Preston began, to +break the awkward silence. "I must look after my husband." + +"My!" Miss M'Gann exclaimed, and then restrained herself. She nodded her +head slowly, and crossed to where Mrs. Preston had seated herself. + +"But it's terrible to think of you here alone," she remarked gently. She +had intended to put her arm about Mrs. Preston's waist, but something +deterred her. "I wish I could come out and stay right on. I'm going to +spend the night, anyway. Father was that kind," she added in a lower voice. + +Mrs. Preston winced under her sympathy and shook her head. "No, no! I am +better alone. You mustn't stay." + +"You'd ought to have _some_ woman here," the girl insisted, with the +feminine instinct for the natural league of women. "At least, some one to +look after the house and keep you company." + +"I have thought of trying to find a servant," Mrs. Preston admitted. "But +what servant--" she left the sentence unfinished, "even if I could pay the +wages," she continued. "Anna comes in sometimes--she's a young Swede who +has a sister in the school. But I've got to get on alone somehow." + +"Well, if that's what getting married is, it's no wonder more of us girls +don't get married, as I told Mr. Dresser." + +There was a knock at the outside door. Miss M'Gann quickly barricaded +herself behind the long table, while Mrs. Preston opened the door and +admitted the visitor. Miss M'Gann came forward with evident relief, and +Mrs. Preston introduced her visitors, "Dr. Sommers, Miss M'Gann." + +Miss M'Gann greeted the doctor warmly. + +"Why, this must be Mr. Dresser's Dr. Sommers." The young doctor bowed and +look annoyed. Miss M'Gann, finding that she could get little from either of +the two silent people, took her leave. + +"I'll not forget you, dear," she said, squeezing Mrs. Preston's hand. + +When she had ridden away, Mrs. Preston returned to the little sitting room +and dropped wearily into a chair. + +"_He_ has just gone, escaped!" she exclaimed. "Just before you came." + +The doctor whistled. "Do you know where he's gone to?" + +She pointed silently to the low wooden building across the neighboring +avenue. + +"If he makes a row, it will all get out. I shall lose my place." + +The doctor nodded. + +"Has it happened before?" + +"He's tried of late. But I have kept him in and barred the door. This time +he forced it open. I was not strong enough to hold it." + +The doctor hesitated a moment, and then, as if making a sudden resolve, he +took his hat. + +"I'll try to bring him back." + +From the open window she could see him walk leisurely down the lane to the +street, and pick his way carefully over the broken planks of the sidewalk +to the avenue. Then he disappeared behind the short shutters that crossed +the door of the saloon. + +For some reason this seemed the one thing unbearable in her experience. The +bitterness of it all welled up and overflowed in a few hot tears that stung +her hands as they dropped slowly from the burning eyes. It was a long time +before the little blinds swung out, and the doctor appeared with her +husband. Preston was talking affably, fluently, and now and then he tapped +the doctor familiarly on his shoulders to emphasize a remark. Sommers +responded enough to keep his companion's interest. Once he gently +restrained him, as the hatless man plunged carelessly forward in front of +an approaching car. As the pair neared the house, the woman at the window +could hear the rapid flow of talk. Preston was excited, self-assertive, and +elaborately courteous. + +"After you, doctor. Will you come upstairs to my room?" she caught as they +entered the gate. "My wife, doctor, is all right, good woman; but, like the +rest of them, foolish." + +And the babbling continued until some one closed the heavy door at the head +of the stairs. Then there was noise, as of a man getting into bed. In time +it was quiet, and just as she was about to make the effort of finding out +what had happened, Sommers came downstairs and signed to her to sit down. + +"I have given him a hypodermic injection. He won't trouble you any more +to-night," he said, staring dreamily out into the twilight. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +"This is too much for you," Sommers observed finally. + +After his meditation he had come to much the same obvious conclusion that +Miss M'Gann had formed previously. The woman moved wearily in her chair. + +"It can't go on," the doctor proceeded. "No one can tell what he might do +in his accesses--what violence he would do to you, to himself." + +"He may get better," she suggested. + +Sommers shook his head slowly. + +"I am afraid not; the only thing to be hoped for is that he will get worse, +much worse, as rapidly as possible." + +Mrs. Preston stood his questioning eyes as he delivered this unprofessional +opinion. + +"Meantime you must protect yourself. The least harm his outbreaks will do +will be to make a scandal, to make it necessary for you to leave your +school." + +"What can I do?" she asked, almost irritably. + +"There are institutions." + +"I have no money." + +"And I suppose they would not do, now, while he is apparently getting +better. They would not help him, even if we should get him confined. His is +one of those cases where the common law prescribes liberty." + +There was nothing further to say in this direction. Sommers seemed to be +thinking. At last, with an impulsive motion, he exclaimed: + +"It should not have been! No, it should not have been." + +He paused. Her eyes had lowered from his face. She knew his unexpressed +thought. + +"And more than that, if you and I and the world thought straight, he +_would not be here now_." + +"No, I suppose not," she acquiesced quietly, following his thought word by +word. "Well, as it is, I guess it's for life--for _my_ life, at +least." + +"If one could only love enough--" he mused. + +"Love!" she exclaimed passionately, at this blasphemous intrusion. "Does +one love such as that,--the man who betrayed your youth?" + +"Not you and I. But one who could love enough--" + +Her disdainful smile stopped him. + +"I followed him to the hospital. I took him here, I don't know why. I guess +it's my fate. He was once mine, and I can't escape that--but as to love--do +you think I am as low as that?" + +"You have no duties except the duties love makes," the doctor suggested. +"He is no longer even the man you married. He is not a man in any sense of +the word. He is merely a failure, a mistake; and if society is afraid to +rid itself of him, society must provide for him." + +"Yes, yes," she murmured, as if all this were familiar ground to her mind. +"But I am the nearest member of society--the one whose business it is to +attend to this mistake. It's my contribution," she ended with a feeble +smile. + +"Society has no right to expect too much from any one. The whole sacrifice +mustn't fall where it crushes. I say that such a case should be treated by +the public authorities, and should be treated once for all." + +She rose and looked into his eyes, as if to say, 'You _were_ society, +and you did not dare.' In a moment she turned away, and said, "Don't you +believe in a soul?" + +"Yes," he smiled back. "And that poor soul and others like it, many, many +thousands, who cannot grow, should be at rest--one long rest; to let other +souls grow, unblasted by their foul touch." + +"I have thought so," she replied calmly, taking his belief as an equal. "To +let joy into the world somewhere before death." Her wistful tone rang out +into the room. "But that would be murder," she continued. "We should have +to call it murder, shouldn't we? And that is a fearful word. I could never +quite forget it. I should always ask myself if I were right, if I had the +right to judge. I am a coward. The work is too much for me." + +"We will not think of it," Sommers replied abruptly, unconsciously putting +himself in company with her, as she had herself with him. "We have but to +follow the conventions of medicine and wait." + +"Yes, wait!" + +"Medicine, medicine," he continued irritably. "All our medicine is but a +contrivance to keep up the farce, to continue the ills of humanity, to keep +the wretched and diseased where they have no right to be!" + +"And you are a doctor! How can you be?" + +"Because," he answered in the same tone of unprofessional honesty that he +had used toward her, "like most men, I am a coward and conventional. I have +learned to do as the others do. Medicine and education!" Sommers laughed +ironically. "They are the two sciences where men turn and turn and emit +noise and do nothing. The doctor and the teacher learn a few tricks and +keep on repeating them as the priest does the ceremony of the mass." + +"That's about right for the teacher," she laughed. "We cut our cloth almost +all alike." + +Unconsciously they drifted farther and farther into intimacy. Sommers +talked as he thought, with question and protest, intolerant of conventions, +of formulas. They forgot the diseased burden that lay in the chamber above, +with its incessant claims, its daily problems. They forgot themselves, thus +strangely brought together and revealed to each other, at one glance as it +were, without the tiresome preliminary acquaintanceship of civilization. It +had grown dark in the room before Sommers came back to the reality of an +evening engagement. + +"You can get a train on the railroad west of the avenue," Mrs. Preston +suggested. "But won't you let me give you something to eat?" + +"Not this time," Sommers answered, taking his hat "Perhaps when I come +again--in a few days. I want to think--what can be done." + +She did not urge him to stay. She was surprised at her boldness in +suggesting it. He had assumed the impersonal, professional manner once +more. That precious hour of free talk had been but an episode, a +relaxation. He gave directions as he went to the door. + +"The patient will sleep till to-morrow. It will take two or three days to +get over this relapse." + +Then he took a pad from his pocket and scribbled a prescription. + +"Should he grow unmanageable, you had better give him one of these +powders--two, if necessary. But no more; they are pretty strong." + +He placed the leaf of pencilled paper on the table. The next minute his +rapid footsteps crunched on the gravel path. Even after he was gone and she +was left quite alone in her old condition, the dead, nerveless sense of +despair did not return. An unreasonable lightness of spirit buoyed her--a +feeling that after a desolate winter a new season was coming, that her +little world was growing larger, lighting indefinably with rare beauty. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The engagement was not one to be missed, at least by a young professional +man who had his way to make, his patients to assemble, in the fierce +struggle of Chicago. The occasion was innocent enough and stupid +enough,--a lecture at the Carsons' by one of the innumerable lecturers +to the polite world that infest large cities. The Pre-Aztec Remains in +Mexico, Sommers surmised, were but a subterfuge; this lecture was merely +one of the signs that the Carsons had arrived at a certain stage in their +pilgrimage. + +They had come from Omaha five years before; they were on their way to New +York, where they would be due five years hence. From railroad law, Carson +had grown to the business of organizing monopolies. Some of his handiworks +in this order of art had been among the first to take the field. He was +resting now, while the country was suffering from its prolonged fit of the +blues, and his wife was organizing their social life. They had picked up a +large house on the North Boulevard, a bargain ready for their needs; it had +been built for the Bidwells, just before the panic. + +A rapid glance over the rooms proved to Sommers that Mrs. Carson was as +clever a manipulator of capitalists as her husband. There were a few of the +more important people of the city, such as Alexander Hitchcock, Ferdinand +Dunster, the Polot families, the Blaisdells, the Anthons. There were also a +few of the more distinctly "smart" people, and a number who might be +counted as social possibilities. Sommers had seen something in a +superficial way of many of these people. Thanks to the Hitchcocks' +introduction, and also to the receptive attitude of a society that was +still very largely fluid, he had gone hither and thither pretty widely +during this past year. There were quieter, less pretentious circles than +this in which the Carsons aspired to move, but he had not yet found them. +Anything that had a retiring disposition disappeared from sight in Chicago. +Society was still a collection of heterogeneous names that appeared daily +in print. As such it offered unrivalled opportunities for aspiration. + +Sommers had not come to the Carsons in the fulfilment of an aspiration. +Mrs. R. Gordon Carson bored him. Her fussy conscious manners bespoke too +plainly the insignificant suburban society in which she had played a minor +part. He came because Dr. Lindsay had told him casually that Louise +Hitchcock was in town again. He arrived late, when the lecture was nearly +over, and lingered in the hall on the fringe of the gathering. + +Carson had some reputation for his pictures. There was one, a Sargent, a +portrait of the protagonist in this little drama of success, that hung in a +recess of the hall at the foot of the stairs. R. Gordon Carson, as the +great psychologist had seen him, was a striking person, an embodiment of +modern waywardness, an outcropping of the trivial and vulgar. In a sacque +coat, with the negligent lounging air of the hotel foyer, he stared at you, +this Mr. R. Gordon Carson, impudently almost, very much at his ease. Narrow +head, high forehead, thin hair, large eyes, a great protruding nose, a thin +chin, smooth-shaven, yet with a bristly complexion,--there he was, the man +from an Iowa farm, the man from the Sioux Falls court-house, the man from +Omaha, the man now fully ripe from Chicago. Here was no class, no race, +nothing in order; a feature picked up here, another there, a third +developed, a fourth dormant--the whole memorable but unforgivably ordinary. + +Not far away, standing in the doorway of the next room, was Carson himself. +The great painter had undressed him and revealed him. What a comment to +hang in one's own home! The abiding impression of the portrait was +self-assurance; hasty criticism would have called it conceit. All the +deeper qualities of humanity were rubbed out for the sake of this one great +expression of egotism. + +When the lecture was finished, a little group formed about the host; he was +telling his experience with the great master, a series of anecdotes that +had made his way in circles where success was not enough. + +"I knew he was a hard customer," Sommers overheard him saying, "and I gave +him all the rope he wanted. 'It may be two years before I do anything on +your portrait, Mr. Carson,' he said. + +"'Take five,' I told him. + +"'I shall charge five thousand.' + +"'Make it ten,' said I. + +"'I shall paint your ears.' + +"'And the nose too.' + +"Well, he sent it to me inside of a year with his compliments. The fancy +struck him, he wrote. It was easy to do; I was a good type and all that. +Well, there it is." + +He turned on an additional bunch of electric lights before the picture. + +"Good, isn't it?" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed behind Sommers. + +"Too good," he muttered. "I shouldn't have dared to hang it." + +The girl's smooth brow contracted. + +"Don't you think it was fine, though, his making up his mind out there in +Sioux Falls that what he wanted was pictures, and the best pictures, and +that he'd have Sargent do his portrait?" + +"No more than it's fine for all the rest of these well-dressed men and +women to make up their minds that they want to be rich and luxurious and +important and all that." + +Her face became still more puzzled. + +"But it is fine! And the successful people are the interesting people." + +"That has nothing to do with the matter," he returned dogmatically. + +"Don't you think so?" she replied distantly, with a note of reproof in her +voice. He was too young, too unimportant to cast such aspersion upon this +comfortable, good-natured world where there was so much fun to be had. She +could not see the possessing image in his mind, the picture of the +afternoon--the unsuccessful woman. + +"There is nothing honorable in wealth," he added, as she turned to examine +a delicate landscape. Her eyes flashed defiantly. + +"It means--" + +"All this," he moved his hand contemptuously. "Ah, yes, and a lot more," he +added, as her lip trembled. "It shows power and ability and thrift and +purpose and provides means for generosity and philanthropy. But it rots." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Because it turns the people who have it into a class that come to feel +themselves divinely appointed. Whereas it is all a gamble, a lucky gamble!" + +"Not all wealth is a lucky gamble!" she retorted hotly. + +Sommers paused, discomfited at the personal turn to the thought. + +"I think the most successful would be the first to admit it," he answered +thoughtfully. + +"I don't understand you," the girl replied more calmly. "I suppose you are +a socialist, or something of that sort. I can't understand such matters +well enough to argue with you. And I hoped to find you in another mood when +I came back; but we fall out always, it seems, over the most trivial +matters." + +"I am afraid I am very blunt," he said contritely. "I came here to find +_you_; what do you want me to talk about,--Stewart's engagement to +Miss Polot? It was given the chief place in the newspaper this morning." + +"Sh, sh!" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed cautiously. Little groups were moving in +and out of the rooms, and at that moment a pale-faced, slight young man +came up to Miss Hitchcock. + +"May I offer my congratulations?" she said, turning to him with the smile +that Sommers's remark had caused still on her lips. The young man simpered, +uttered the requisite platitude, and moved away. + +"Did you congratulate him on the Polot connection or on the girl?" the +young doctor asked. + +"You don't know Estelle Polot! She is _impossible_. But Burton Stewart +has got _just_ what he wanted. No one thought that he would do as well +as that. You know they are _fearfully_ rich--she can't escape having a +number of millions. Don't you think a man of forty is to be congratulated +on having what he has been looking for for twenty years?" + +Miss Hitchcock's neat, nonchalant enunciation gave the picture additional +relief. + +"I don't see how he has the face to show himself. All these people are +laughing about it." + +"It _is_ a bad case, but don't you believe that they are not envying +him and praising him. He is a clever man, and he won't let the Polot money +go to waste. He has taken the largest purse--the rest were too light." + +Miss Hitchcock seemed to find infinite resources of mirth in the affair. +Other people drifted by them. Several of the younger women stopped and +exchanged amused glances with Miss Hitchcock. + +"He's been attentive to all these," Miss Hitchcock explained to Sommers. + +"The Polot money is very bad, isn't it?" + +Miss Hitchcock shrugged her shoulders. + +"It is current coin." + +"The system is worse than the _dot_ and _mariage de convenance_. +There is no pretension of sentiment in that, at least. See him hanging over +the girl--faugh!" + +"You _are_ crude," Miss Hitchcock admitted, candidly. "Let us move out +of this crowd. Some one will overhear you." + +They sauntered into the dimly lighted hall, where there were fewer people, +and he continued truculently: + +"I remember that side by side with the report of Miss Polot's engagement +was a short account of the starvation at Pullman, and another column was +headed, 'Nothing to arbitrate: Pullman says he has nothing to arbitrate.' +Did you see that the reporters carefully estimated just how much Miss +Polot's share of the plunder would be?" + +"What you need is golf. I have been teaching papa at the Springs. It is a +great resource, and it increases your sense of humor." + +"It doesn't seem to have rested you," Sommers answered. "You are tired or +worried." + +"Worse yet!" she laughed nervously. "Clearly, you won't do. You must go +back to Marion." + +She looked up at him from her low seat with brilliant, mocking eyes. +"I have thought of that. It would not be the worst thing that could happen. +Would _you_ think it possible--Marion?" he asked clumsily. + +Her eyes did not fall, but rested steadily on his face. Under this clear +gaze his remark appeared to him preposterous. She seemed to show him how +precipitate, unformed,--crude, as she said,--all his acts were. Instead of +answering his question, she said gently: + +"Yes, you are right. I _am_ worried, and I came here tonight to escape +it. But one doesn't escape worries with you. One increases them. You make +me feel guilty, uncomfortable. Now get me something thoroughly cold, and +perhaps we can have that long-promised talk." + +When Sommers returned with a glass of champagne, a number of men had +gathered about Miss Hitchcock, and she left him on the outside, +intentionally it seemed, while she chatted with them, bandying allusions +that meant nothing to him. Sommers saw that he had been a bore. He slipped +out of the group and wandered into the large library, where the guests were +eating and drinking. A heavy, serious man, whom he had seen at various +places, spoke to him. He said something about the lecture, then something +about Miss Polot's engagement. "They'll go to New York," he ventured. +"Stewart has some position there, some family." He talked about the +Stewarts and the Polots, and finally he went to the dressing room to smoke. + +Sommers had made up his mind to leave, and was looking for Mrs. Carson, +when he came across Miss Hitchcock again. + +"The man you were talking with is quite a tragedy," she said unconcernedly, +picking up the conversation where she had dropped it. "I knew him when he +left college. He was an athletic fellow, a handsome man. His people were +nice, but not rich. He was planning to go to Montana to take a place in +some mines, but he got engaged to the daughter of a very wealthy man. He +didn't go. He married Miss Prudence Fisher, and he has simply grown fat. +It's an old story--" + +"And a tragic enough one. We ought to change the old proverb, 'It is easier +for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for a poor man to +marry a rich man's daughter.'" + +"It ought not to be so, if the man were a man." + +She dwelt upon the last word until the young doctor's face flushed. Then +with the sudden transition of mood, which so often perplexed Sommers, she +said gently, confidently: + +"You are quite right. My journey did me no good. There were worries, and we +can't go away this summer. The business situation will keep papa here, and +he is so lonely without me that I hadn't the heart to suggest leaving him. +So we have taken a house at Lake Forest. I shall teach you golf at the new +Country Club, if you will deign to waste your time on us. You will see more +of these good people." + +"You must think me--" Sommers began penitently. + +"Yes, _they_ would say 'raw' and 'green.' I don't know. I must go +now." + +A few minutes later, Sommers met Colonel Hitchcock in the dressing room. As +he was leaving, the old merchant detained him. + +"Are you going north? Perhaps you will wait for me and let me take you to +the city. Louise is going on to a dance." + +Sommers waited outside the room. From the bedroom at the end of the hall +came a soft murmur of women's voices. He hoped that Miss Hitchcock would +appear before her father took him off. He should like to see her again--to +hear her voice. Every moment some one nodded to him, distracting his +attention, but his eyes reverted immediately to the end of the hall. Men +and women were passing out, down the broad staircase that ended in front of +the intelligent portrait. The women in rich opera cloaks, the men in black +capes carrying their crush hats under their arms, were all alike; they were +more like every other collection of the successful in the broad earth than +one might have expected. + +Sommers caught bits of the conversation. + +"Jim has taken the Paysons' place." + +"Is that so? We are going to York." + +"--Shall join them in Paris--dinner last Friday--did you see _The Second +Mrs. Tanqueray_--our horses are always ill--" + +It sounded like the rustle of skirts, the stretching of kid. There was +dulness in the atmosphere. Yet if it was dull, Sommers realized that it was +his own fault--a conclusion he usually took away with him from the feasts +of the rich which he attended. He lacked the power to make the most of his +opportunities. The ability to cultivate acquaintances, to push his way into +a good place in this sleek company of the well-to-do,--an ability +characteristically American,--he was utterly without. It would be better +for him, he reflected with depression, to return to Marion, Ohio, or some +similar side-track of the world, or to reenter the hospital and bury +himself in a quite subordinate position. + +There was still an eddy of guests about the host and his wife near the +great portrait. They were laughing loudly. Carson's thin face was beaming. +Even Mrs. Carson's face had lost some of its tension. Sommers could watch +her manner from his position in the upper hall. She was dismissing a minor +guest with a metallic smile. 'To aspire to this!' he murmured +unconsciously. 'This, the triumph of success!' + +"Still waiting?" + +Miss Hitchcock was passing, her long wrap trailing lightly behind. Her eyes +glowed underneath a white mantilla. + +"I am ready to go now," Sommers replied. "You are too tired for the dance." + +"I must go--I can't bear to miss anything. It is stupid--but it is exciting +at the same time. Good-by. Remember, Lake Forest in a fortnight. And learn +to take it easily!" + +She smiled and disappeared in the wake of Mrs. Porter. How easily she +seemed to take it! The man she married would have to be of the world, as +large a world as she could contrive to get. She would always be "going on." +Imaginatively, with the ignorance of a young man, he attributed to her +appetites for luxury, for power, for success. _He_ was merely an +instance of her tolerance. Really he was a very little thing in her cosmos, +and if he wished to be more, he would have to take an interest in just +this. + +Colonel Hitchcock came out at last, in close conversation with old +Blaisdell. They were talking business. Hitchcock's kindly face was furrowed +and aged, Sommers noticed. The old merchant put his arm through the young +doctor's, and with this support Sommers received the intimate farewell from +Mrs. Carson. + +Colonel Hitchcock ordered the driver to take them to the Metropolitan Club. + +"Our talk may take us some time," he explained. "I have been trying to find +you for several days. I have something to ask you to do for me. You may +think it strange that I should go to you instead of to one of my old +friends. But it is something Isaac would have done for me. It is for my +boy." + +The weariness of years was in his voice. As briefly and as simply as he +could, he stated the matter. Parker had disappeared; he had gone to New +York and there drawn heavily on his father. The journey which Colonel +Hitchcock had made with his daughter had been largely for the purpose of +finding Parker, and had failed. The boy was ashamed to come back. Now there +was a clew, but it seemed unwise for the father to follow it up himself. + +"I don't understand the boy," Colonel Hitchcock concluded. "I'm afraid +everything I do is wrong. I get angry. I have no patience with his polo, +his spending so much money uselessly--he spends ten times as much money as +any man among my friends did at his age." + +"You have ten times as much as any one of their fathers had," Sommers +protested with a smile. + +"Well, then, I guess I had better stop, if that's what it means. He may +find there isn't so much after all. This panic is pushing me. _I_ +can't leave Chicago another day. He should be here fighting with me, +helping me--and he is sneaking in some hotel, with his tail between his +legs." + +He breathed heavily at the bitterness of the thought. Everything in his +life had been honorable, open to all: he had fought fair and hard and +long--for this. + +"If it weren't for Louise and his mother, I would let him starve until he +was ready to come home. But his mother is ill--she can't be troubled." + +"And you can't let him disgrace himself publicly--do something that would +make it hard for him to come back at all," Sommers suggested. + +"No, I suppose not," the older man admitted, with a grateful glance. "I +can't refuse to help him, poor boy; perhaps I have made him weak." + +Sommers offered to do what he could,--to hunt Parker up, get him on his +feet, and bring him back to Chicago. He would leave that night. They had +stopped at the club to finish their talk, and while Colonel Hitchcock was +writing some letters, Sommers drove to his rooms for his bag. It was nearly +midnight before he returned. As they drove over to the station, Colonel +Hitchcock said: + +"I have told him the whole thing: how hard pressed I am; how his mother is +worrying and ill--well, I don't feel it will make much difference. He could +_see_ all that." + +"You must remember that he has always had every inducement to enjoy +himself," the young doctor ventured. "He doesn't understand _your_ +life. You sent him to a very nice private school, and whenever he failed +got him tutors. You made him feel that he was a special case in the world. +And he has always been thrown with boys and young men who felt _they_ +were special cases. At college he lived with the same set--" + +"His mother and I wanted him to start with every advantage, to have a +gentleman's education. At home he's seen nothing of extravagance and +self-indulgence." + +Sommers nodded sympathetically. It was useless to discuss the matter. The +upright, courageous old merchant, whose pride was that he had never +committed one mean action in the accumulation of his fortune, could never +understand this common misfortune. He belonged to a different world from +that in which his son was to take his part. They turned to other +topics,--the business depression, the strike, the threatened interference +of the American Railway Union. + +"Blaisdell, who is the general manager of the C. K. and G.," Colonel +Hitchcock remarked, "was saying tonight that he expected the Pullman people +would induce the A. R. U. to strike. If they stir up the unions all over +the country, business will get worse and worse. All we needed to make +things as bad as can be was a great railroad strike." + +"I suppose so," Sommers responded. "Why won't the Pullman people consent to +arbitrate?" + +The old merchant shook his head. + +"They'd divide their twenty millions of surplus and go out of business +first. They say they're saving money on the strike. Did you ever know of +people with the whip-hand who had anything to arbitrate?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Dr. Lindsay's offices were ingeniously arranged on three sides of the +Athenian Building. The patient entering from the hall, just beside the +elevators, passed by a long, narrow corridor to the waiting room, and +thence to one of the tiny offices of the attending physicians; or, if he +were fortunate enough, he was led at once to the private office of the +great Lindsay, at the end of the inner corridor. By a transverse passage he +was then shunted off to a door that opened into the public hall just +opposite the elevator well. The incoming patient was received by a woman +clerk, who took his name, and was dismissed by another woman clerk, who +collected fees and made appointments. If he came by special appointment, +several stages in his progress were omitted, and he passed at once to one +of the smaller offices, where he waited until the machine was ready to +proceed with his case. Thus in the office there was a perpetual stream of +the sick and suffering, in, around, out, crossed by the coming and going +through transverse passages of the "staff," the attendants, the clerks, +messengers, etc. Each atom in the stream was welling over with egotistic +woes, far too many for the brief moment in which he would be closeted with +the great one, who held the invisible keys of relief, who penetrated this +mystery of human maladjustment. It was a busy, toiling, active, subdued +place, where the tinkle of the telephone bell, the hum of electric +annunciators, as one member of the staff signalled to another, vibrated in +the tense atmosphere. Into this hive poured the suffering, mounting from +the street, load after load, in the swiftly flying cages; their visit made, +their joss-sticks burned, they dropped down once more to the chill world +below, where they must carry on the burden of living. + +The attending physicians arrived at nine. The "shop," as they called it, +opened at ten; Lindsay was due at eleven and departed at three. Thereafter +the hive gradually emptied, and by four the stenographers and clerks were +left alone to attend to purely business matters. Sommers came late the day +after his return from New York. The general door being opened to admit a +patient, he walked in and handed his coat and hat to the boy in buttons at +the door. The patient who had entered with him was being questioned by the +neat young woman whose business it was to stand guard at the outer door. + +"What is your name, please?" + +Her tones were finely adjusted to the caste of the patient. Judging from +the icy sharpness on this occasion, the patient was not high in the scale. + +"Caroline Ducharme," the woman replied. + +"Write it out, please." + +The patient did so with some difficulty, scrawling half over the neat pad +the clerk pushed toward her. + +"You wish to consult Dr. Lindsay?" + +"The big doctor,--yes, mum." + +"Did he make an appointment with you?" + +"What's that?" + +"Have you been here before?" + +"No, mum." + +"You will have to pay the fee in advance." + +"What's that, please?" + +"Ten dollars." + +"Ten?" + +The clerk tapped irritably on her desk with her pencil. + +"Yes, _ten_ dollars for the first visit; five after that; operations +from fifty to five hundred." + +The woman clutched tightly a small reticule. "I hain't the money!" she +exclaimed at last. "I thought it would be two dollars." + +"You'll have to go to the hospital, then." + +The clerk turned to a pile of letters. + +"Don't he see nobody here without he pays ten?" the woman asked. + +"No." + +"Where is the hospital?" + +"St. Isidore's--the clinic is every other Saturday at nine." + +"But my head hurts awful bad. The doctor up our way don't know anything +about it." + +The clerk no longer answered; she had turned half around in her +swivel-chair. Sommers leaned over her desk, and said,-- + +"Show her into my room, No. 3, Miss Clark." + +"Dr. Lindsay is _very_ particular," the clerk protested. + +"I will be responsible," Sommers answered sharply, in the tone he had +learned to use with hospital clerks when they opposed his will. He turned +to get his mail. The clerk shrugged her shoulders with a motion that said, +'Take her there yourself.' Sommers beckoned to the woman to follow him. He +took her to one of the little compartments on the inner corridor, which was +lined with strange devices: electrical machines, compressed air valves, +steam sprays--all the enginery of the latest invention. + +"Now what is it?" he asked gruffly. He was vexed that the matter should +occur at this time, when he was on rather cool terms with Lindsay. The case +proved to be an interesting one, however. There were nervous complications; +it could not be diagnosed at a glance. After spending half an hour in +making a careful examination, he gave the woman a preliminary treatment, +and dismissed her with directions to call the next day. + +"You will lose your eyesight, if you don't take care," he said. "We'll see +to-morrow." + +"No," the woman shook her head. "I've had enough of her lip. You'se all +right; but I guess I'll have to go blind. I can't stand your prices. Here's +two dollars, all I got." + +She held out a dirty bill. + +"In the world?" Sommers added smilingly. It was a familiar formula. + +"Just about," she admitted defiantly. "And if my eyes go back on me, I +guess 'twill be St. Isidore, or St. Somebody. You see I need my eyes pretty +bad just now for one thing." + +"What's that?" the doctor asked good-naturedly, waving the money aside. + +"To look for _him_. He's in Chicago somewheres, I know." + +"Ducharme?" the doctor inquired carelessly. + +The woman nodded, her not uncomely broad face assuming a strange expression +of determined fierceness. At that moment an assistant rapped at the door +with a summons from Dr. Lindsay. + +"Turn up this evening, then, at the address on this card," Sommers said to +Mrs. Ducharme, handing her his card. + +He would have preferred hearing that story about Ducharme to charging old +P. F. Wort with electricity. He went through the treatment with his +accustomed deftness, however. As he was leaving the room, Dr. Lindsay asked +him to wait. + +"Mr. Porter is about to go abroad, to try the baths at Marienbad. I have +advised him to take one of our doctors with him to look after his diet and +comfort in travelling,--one that can continue our treatment and be +companionable. It will just take the dull season. I'd like to run over +myself, but my affairs--" + +Lindsay completed the idea by sweeping his broad, fleshy hand over the +large office desk, which was loaded with letters, reports, and documents of +various kinds. + +"What d'ye say, Sommers?" + +"Do you think Porter would want me?" Sommers asked idly. He had seen in the +paper that morning that Porter was out of town, and was going to Europe for +his health. Porter had been out of town, persistently, ever since the +Pullman strike had grown ugly. The duties of the directors were performed, +to all intents and purposes, by an under-official, a third vice-president. +Those duties at present consisted chiefly in saying from day to day: "The +company has nothing to arbitrate. There is a strike; the men have a right +to strike. The company doesn't interfere with the men," etc. The third +vice-president could make these announcements as judiciously as the great +Porter. + +"I have an idea," continued Sommers, "that Porter might not want me; he has +never been over-cordial." + +"Nonsense!" replied the busy doctor. "Porter will take any one I advise him +to. All expenses and a thousand dollars--very good pay." + +"Is Porter very ill?" Sommers asked. "I thought he was in fair health, the +last time I saw him." + +Lindsay looked at the young doctor with a sharp, experienced glance. There +was a half smile on his face as he answered soberly: + +"Porter has been living rather hard. He needs a rest--fatty degeneration +may set in." + +"Brought on by the strike?" + +Lindsay smiled broadly this time. + +"Coincident with the strike, let us say." + +"I don't believe I can leave Chicago just now," the young doctor replied +finally. + +Lindsay stared at him as if he were demented. + +"I've a case or two I am interested in," Sommers explained nonchalantly. +"Nothing much, but I don't care to leave. Besides, I don't think Porter +would be an agreeable companion." + +"Very well," Lindsay replied indifferently. "French will go--a jolly, +companionable, chatty fellow." + +The young doctor felt that Lindsay was enumerating pointedly the qualities +he lacked. + +"Porter's connection will be worth thousands to the man he takes to. He's +in a dozen different corporations where they pay good salaries to +physicians. Of course, if you've started a practice already--" + +"I don't suppose my cases are good for ten dollars." + +Lindsay's handsome, gray-whiskered face expressed a polite disgust. + +"There's another matter I'd like to speak about--" + +"The patient Ducharme?" Sommers asked quickly. + +"I don't know her name,--the woman Miss Clark says you admitted against my +rules. You know there are the free dispensaries for those who can't pay, +and, indeed, I give my own services. I cannot afford to maintain this plant +without fees. In short, I am surprised at such a breach of professional +etiquette." + +Sommers got up from his seat nervously and then sat down again. Lindsay +undoubtedly had the right to do exactly what he pleased on his own +premises. + +"Very well," he replied shortly. "It shan't occur again. I have told the +Ducharme woman to call at my rooms for treatment, and I will give Miss +Clark her ten dollars. She was an exceptionally interesting and instructive +case." + +Lindsay elevated his eyebrows politely. + +"Yes, yes, but you know we specialists are so liable to be imposed upon. +Every one tries to escape his fee; no one would employ Carson, for example, +unless he had the means to pay his fee, would he?" + +"The cases are not exactly parallel." + +"All cases of employment are parallel," Lindsay replied with emphasis. +"Every man is entitled to what he can get, from the roustabout on the wharf +to our friend Porter, and no more." + +"I have often thought," Sommers protested rather vaguely, "that clergymen +and doctors should be employed by the state to do what they can; it isn't +much!" + +"There are the hospitals." Lindsay got up from his chair at the sound of an +electric bell. "And our very best professional men practise there, give +their time and money and strength. You will have to excuse me, as Mr. +Carson has an appointment, and I have already kept him waiting. Will you +see Mrs. Winter and young Long at eleven thirty and eleven forty-five?" + +As Sommers was leaving, Lindsay called out over his shoulder, "And can you +take the clinic, Saturday? I must go to St. Louis in consultation. General +R. P. Atkinson, president of the Omaha and Gulf, an old friend--" + +"Shall be delighted," the young doctor replied with a smile. + +As he stepped into the corridor, one of the young women clerks was filling +in an appointment slip on the long roll that hung on a metal cylinder. This +was an improved device, something like a cash-register machine, that +printed off the name opposite a certain hour that was permanently printed +on the slip. The hours of the office day were divided into five-minute +periods, but, as two assisting physicians were constantly in attendance +beside Sommers, the allotted time for each patient was about fifteen +minutes. + +"Mrs. Winter is in No. 3," the clerk told him. "Long in No. 1, and Mr. +Harrison and a Miss Frost in the reception room." + +So the machine ground on. Even the prescriptions were formularized to such +an extent that most of them were stencilled and went by numbers. The clerk +at the end of the corridor handed the patient a little card, on which was +printed No. 3033, No. 3127, etc., as he circled by in the last turn of the +office. There was an apothecary store on the floor below, where the patient +could sit in an easy-chair and read the papers while the prescription +called for by his number was being fetched by an elegant young woman. + +Sommers hurried through with Mrs. Winter, who was a fussy, nervous little +woman from the West Side; she resented having "a young feller" thrust on +her. + +"I knew Dr. Lindsay when he was filling prescriptions on Madison Street," +she said spitefully. + +Sommers smiled. "That must have been a good while ago, before Chicago was a +big place." + +"Before you was born, young man; before all the doctors who could came down +here in a bunch and set up offices and asked fees enough of a body to keep +'em going for a year!" + +Then young Long; then one, two, three new patients, who had to have +physical examinations before being admitted to Lindsay. Once or twice +Lindsay sent for Sommers to assist him in a delicate matter, and Sommers +hurried off, leaving his half-dressed patient to cool his heels before a +radiator. After the examinations there was an odd patient or two that +Lindsay had left when he had gone out to lunch with some gentlemen at the +Metropolitan Club. By two o'clock Sommers got away to take a hasty luncheon +in a bakery, after which he returned to a new string of cases. + +To-day "the rush," as the clerks called it, was greater than usual. The +attendants were nervous and irritable, answered sharply and saucily, until +Sommers felt that the place was intolerable. All this office practice got +on his nerves. It was too "intensive." He could not keep his head and enter +thoroughly into the complications of a dozen cases, when they were shoved +at him pell-mell. He realized that he was falling into a routine, was +giving conventional directions, relying upon the printed prescriptions and +mechanical devices. All these devices were ingenious,--they would do no +harm,--and they might do good, ought to do good,--if the cursed human +system would only come up to the standard. + +At last he seized his coat and hat, and escaped. The noiseless cage dropped +down, down, past numerous suites of doctors' offices similar to Lindsay's, +with their ground-glass windows emblazoned by dozens of names. This +building was a kind of modern Chicago Lourdes. All but two or three of the +suites were rented to some form of the medical fraternity. Down, down: here +a druggist's clerk hailing the descending car; there an upward car stopping +to deliver its load of human freight bound for the rooms of another great +specialist,--Thornton, the skin doctor. At last he reached the ground floor +and the gusty street. Across the way stood a line of carriages waiting for +women who were shopping at the huge dry-goods emporium, and through the +barbaric displays of the great windows Sommers could see the clerks moving +hither and thither behind the counters. It did not differ materially from +his emporium: it was less select, larger, but not more profitable, +considering the amount of capital employed, than his shop. Marshall Field +decked out the body; Lindsay, Thornton, and Co. repaired the body as best +they could. It was all one trade. + +On State Street the sandwich men were sauntering dejectedly through the +crowd of shoppers: "_Professor Herman Sorter, Chiropodist._" "_Go to +Manassas for Spectacles_";--it was the same thing. Across the street, on +the less reputable western side, flared the celluloid signs of the quacks: +"_The parlors of famous old Dr. Green_." "_The original and only Dr. +Potter. Visit Dr. Potter. No cure, no charge. Examination free._" The +same business! Lindsay would advertise as "old Dr. Lindsay," if it paid to +advertise,--paid socially and commercially. Dr. Lindsay's offices probably +"took in" more in a month than "old Dr. Green" made in a year, without the +expense of advertising. Lindsay would lose much more by adopting the +methods of quackery than he could ever make: he would lose hospital +connections, standing in the professional journals, and social prestige. +Lindsay was quite shrewd in sticking to the conventions of the profession. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +When Sommers reached his rooms that evening, he found Mrs. Ducharme waiting +for him. She held in her hand his card. + +"I thought you'd give me the go-by," she exclaimed, as he entered. "Your +kind is smooth enough, but they don't want to be bothered. But I came all +the same--on the chance." + +"What have you been doing?" the doctor inquired, without noticing her +surliness. "Walking about in the streets all day and making your +inflammation worse?" + +"Well, you see I must find _him_, and I don't know where to look for +him." + +"Well, you won't find your husband walking about the streets, especially if +he's gone off with another woman; but you will get blind and have to go to +the hospital!" + +"Well, I'll kill _her first_." + +"You will do nothing of the sort," said the doctor, wearily. "You'll make a +fuss, and your husband will hit you again, and go away." + +"He was all right, as nice a man as you could find before _she_ came +to Peory. You see she is married to another man, a baker, and they lived in +Decatur. Ducharme--he's a Frenchman--knew her in Decatur where he worked in +a restaurant, and he came to Peory to get rid of her. And he got a job and +was real steady and quiet. Then we got married, and Ducharme was as nice a +man as you ever knew. But we wasn't married a week--we had a kafe +together--before _she_ got wind o' his being married and come to town. +He told me she was trying to get him to go away, and he said how he didn't +want to; but she had influence with him and was worrying around. Well, the +third day he sent me a note by a little boy. 'Caroline,' it said, 'you'se a +good woman and an honest woman and we could get on first rate together; +but, Caroline, I don't love you when she is about. She calls me, and I +go.'" + +"Well, that's all there is to it, isn't it?" Sommers asked, half amused. +"You can't keep him away from the other woman. Now you are a sensible, +capable woman. Just give him up and find a place to work." + +Mrs. Ducharme shook her head sorrowfully. + +"That won't do. I just think and think, and I can't work. He was such a +nice man, so gentlemanlike and quiet, so long as she stayed away. But I +didn't tell you: I found 'em in Peory in a place not fit for hogs to live +in, and I watched my chance and gave it to the woman. But Ducharme came in +and he pushed me out, and I fell, and guess I cracked my head. That's when +my eye began to hurt. The kafe business ran out, and I followed them to +Chicago. And here I been for three months, doing most anything, housework +generally. But I can't keep a place. Just so often I have to up and out on +the road and try to find him. I'll brain that woman yet!" + +She uttered this last assertion tranquilly. + +"She don't amount to much,--a measly, sandy-haired, cheap thing. _I_ +come of respectable folks, who had a farm outer Gales City, and never +worked out 'fore this happened. But now I can't settle down to nothin'; +it's always that Frenchman before my eyes, and _her_." + +"Well, and after you have found her and disposed of her?" asked Sommers. + +"Oh, Ducharme will be all right then! He'll follow me like a lamb. He +doesn't want to mess around with such. But she's got some power over him." + +"Simply he wants to live with her and not with you." + +The woman nodded her head sadly. + +"I guess that's about it; but you see if she weren't around, he wouldn't +know that he didn't love me." + +Mrs. Ducharme wiped away her tears, and looked at the doctor in hopes that +he might suggest some plan by which she could accomplish her end. To him +she was but another case of a badly working mechanism. Either from the blow +on her head or from hereditary influences she had a predisposition to a +fixed idea. That tendency had cultivated this aberration about the woman +her husband preferred to her. Should she happen on this woman in her +wanderings about Chicago, there would be one of those blind newspaper +tragedies,--a trial, and a term of years in prison. As he meditated on this +an idea seized the doctor; there was a way to distract her. + +"The best thing for you to do," he said severely, "is to go to work." + +"Can't get no place," she replied despondently. "Have no references and +can't keep a place. See a feller going up the street that looks like +Ducharme, and I must go after him." + +"I have a place in mind where you won't be likely to see many men that look +like Ducharme!" + +He explained to her the situation of the Ninety-first Street cottage, and +what Mrs. Preston needed. + +"You take this note there to-morrow morning, and tell her that you are +willing to work for a home. Then I'll attend to the wages. If you do what I +want,--keep that fellow well locked up and relieve Mrs. Preston of +care,--I'll give you good wages. Not a word to her, mind, about that. And +when you want to hunt Ducharme, just notify Mrs. Preston and go ahead. Only +see that you hunt him in the daytime. Don't leave her alone nights. Now, +let's see your eye." + +The woman took the brief note which he scribbled after examining her, and +said dejectedly: + +"She won't want me long--no one does, least of all Ducharme." + +Sommers laughed. + +"Guess I better go straight down," she remarked more hopefully as she left. + +He should have taken the woman to the cottage, he reflected after she had +gone, instead of sending her in this brusque manner. He had not seen Mrs. +Preston since his return, and he did not know what had happened to her in +the meantime. To-morrow he would find time to ride down there and see how +things were going with the sick man. + +There was much mail lying on his table. Nothing had been forwarded by +Dresser, in accordance with the directions he had telegraphed him. And he +had seen nothing of Dresser yesterday or to-day. The rooms looked as if the +man had been gone some time. Dresser owed him money,--more than he could +spare conveniently,--but that troubled him less than the thought of +Dresser's folly. It was likely that he had thrown up his position--he had +chafed against it from the first--and had taken to the precarious career of +professional agitator. Dresser had been speaking at meetings in Pullman, +with apparent success, and his mind had been full of "the industrial war," +as he called it. Sommers recalled that the man had been allowed to leave +Exonia College, where he had taught for a year on his return from Germany, +because (as he put it) "he held doctrines subversive of the holy state of +wealth and a high tariff." That he was of the stuff that martyrs of speech +are made, Sommers knew well enough, and such men return to their haven +sooner or later. + +Sommers sorted his letters listlessly. The Ducharme affair troubled him. He +could see that a split with Lindsay was coming; but it must not be brought +about by any act of professional discourtesy on his part. Although he was +the most efficient surgeon Lindsay had, it would not take much to bring +about his discharge. Probably the suggestion about Porter was merely a +polite means of getting him out of the office. Lindsay had said some +pointed things about "the critical attitude." The "critical attitude" to +Lindsay's kind was the last crime. + +Ordinarily he would not have cared. The sacrifice of the three thousand +dollars which Lindsay paid him would have its own consolation. He could get +back his freedom. But the matter was not so simple as it had been. It was +mixed now with another affair: if he should leave Lindsay, especially after +any disagreement with the popular specialist, he would put himself farther +from Miss Hitchcock than ever. As it was, he was quite penniless enough; +but thrown on his own resources--he remembered the heavy, sad young man at +the Carsons', and Miss Hitchcock's remark about him. + +Yet this reflection that in some way it was complicated, that he could not +act impulsively and naturally, angered him. He was shrewd enough to know +that Lindsay's patronage was due, not to the fact that he was the cleverest +surgeon he had, but to the fact that, well--the daughter of Alexander +Hitchcock thought kindly of him. These rich and successful! They formed a +kind of secret society, pledged to advance any member, to keep the others +out by indifference. When the others managed to get in, for any reason, +they lent them aid to the exclusion of those left outside. So long as it +looked as if he were to have a berth in their cabin, they would be amiable, +but not otherwise. + +Among the letters on the desk was one from Miss Hitchcock, asking him to +spend the coming Saturday and Sunday at Lake Forest. There was to be a +small house party, and the new club was to be open. Sommers prepared to +answer it at once--to regret. He had promised himself to see Mrs. Preston +instead. In writing the letter it seemed to him that he was taking a +position, was definitely deciding something, and at the close he tore it in +two and took a fresh sheet. Now was the time, if he cared for the girl, to +come nearer to her. He had told himself all the way back from New York that +he did care--too much. She was not like the rest. He laughed at himself. A +few years hence she would be like the rest and, what is more, he should not +find her so absorbing now, if she were not like the rest, essentially. + +He wrote a conventional note of acceptance, and went out to mail it. +Possibly all these people were right in reading the world, and the aim of +life was to show one's power to get on. He was worried over that elementary +aspect of things rather late in life. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +These days there were many people on the streets, but few were busy. The +large department stores were empty; at the doors stood idle floor-walkers +and clerks. It was too warm for the rich to buy, and the poor had no money. +The poor had come lean and hungry out of the terrible winter that followed +the World's Fair. In that beautiful enterprise the prodigal city had put +forth her utmost strength, and, having shown the world the supreme flower +of her energy, had collapsed. There was gloom, not only in La Salle Street +where people failed, but throughout the city, where the engine of play had +exhausted the forces of all. The city's huge garment was too large for it; +miles of empty stores, hotels, flat-buildings, showed its shrunken state. +Tens of thousands of human beings, lured to the festive city by abnormal +wages, had been left stranded, without food or a right to shelter in its +tenantless buildings. + +As the spring months moved on in unseasonable, torrid heat, all the sores +of the social system swelled and began to break. The bleak winter had seen +mute starvation and misery, and the blasts of summer had brought no revival +of industry. Capital was sullen, and labor violent. There were meetings and +counter-meetings; agitators, panaceas, university lecturers, sociologizing +preachers, philanthropists, politicians--discontent and discord. The +laborer starved, and the employer sulked. + +"The extravagant poor are unwilling to let the thrifty reap the rewards of +their savings and abstinence," lectured the Political Economist of the +standard school. "The law of wages and capital is immutable. More science +is needed." + +"The rich are vultures and sharks," shrieked the Labor Agitator. + +"And will ye let your brother starve?" exhorted the Preacher. + +"For it is as clear as the nose on your face that corporations corrupt +legislatures, and buy judges, and oppress the poor," insinuated the +Socialist. + +"It's that wretched free trade," howled the hungry Politician, "and +Cleveland and all his evil deeds. See what we will do for you." + +"Yes, it's free trade," bawled one newspaper. + +"It's nefarious England," snarled another. + +"It's the greed of Wall Street, the crime against silver, the burden of the +mortgage," vociferated a third. + +"It's 'hard times,'" the meek sighed, and furbished up last year's clothes, +and cut the butcher's bill. + +"Yes, it's 'hard times,' a time of psychological depression and distrust," +softly said the rich man. "A good time to invest my savings profitably. +Real estate is low; bonds and mortgages are as cheap as dirt. Some day +people will be cheerful once more, and these good things will multiply and +yield fourfold. Yea, I will not bury my talent in a napkin." + +Thus the body social threw out much smoke, but no vital heat; here and +there, the red glare of violence burst up through the dust of words and the +insufferable cant of the world. + +The first sore to break, ironically enough, was in the "model industrial +town" of Pullman. That dispute over the question of a living wage grew +bitterer day by day. Well-to-do people praised the directors for their firm +resolve to keep the company's enormous surplus quite intact. The men said +the officers of the company lied: it was an affair of complicated +bookkeeping. The brutal fact of it was that the company rested within its +legal rights. The unreasonable people were dissatisfied with an eighth of a +loaf, while their employers were content with a half. Then there was +trouble among the mines, and the state troops were called out. Sores +multiplied; men talked; but capital could not be coerced. + +But while politicians squabbled and capitalists sulked and economists +talked, a strong tide of fellowship in misery was rising from west to east. +Unconsciously, far beneath the surface, the current was moving,--a current +of common feeling, of solidarity among those who work by day for their +daily bread. The country was growing richer, but they were poorer. There +began to be talk of Debs, the leader of a great labor machine. The A. R. U. +had fought one greedy corporation with success, and intimidated another. +Sometime in June this Debs and his lieutenant, Howard, came to Chicago. The +newspapers had little paragraphs of meagre information about the A. R. U. +convention. One day there was a meeting in which a committee of the Pullman +strikers set forth their case. At the close of that meeting the great +boycott had been declared. "Mere bluff," said the newspapers. But the +managers of the railroads "got together." Some of them had already cut the +wage lists on their roads. They did not feel sure that it was all "bluff." + + * * * * * + +It was the first day of the A. R. U. boycott. Sommers left the Athenian +Building at noon, for Dr. Lindsay's clients carried their infirmities out +of town in hot weather. He took his way across the city toward the station +of the Northwestern Railroad, wondering whether Debs's threats had been +carried out, and if consequently he should be compelled to remain in town +over Sunday. On the street corners and in front of the newspaper offices +little knots of men, wearing bits of white ribbon in their buttonholes, +were idling. They were quiet, curious, dully waiting to see what this +preposterous stroke might mean for them. In the heavy noonday air of the +streets they moved lethargically, drifting westward to the hall where the +A. R. U. committees were in session. Oblivious of his engagements, Sommers +followed them, hearing the burden of their talk, feeling their aimless +discontent, their bitterness at the grind of circumstances. This prodigal +country of theirs had been exploited,--shamefully, rapaciously, +swinishly,--and now that the first signs of exhaustion were showing +themselves, the people's eyes were opening to the story of greed. +Democracy! Say, rather, Plutocracy, the most unblushing the world had ever +seen,--the aristocracy of THOSE WHO HAVE. + +Thus meditating, he jostled against a group of men who were coming from a +saloon. All but one wore the typical black clothes and derby hats of the +workman's best attire; one had on a loose-fitting, English tweed suit. In +this latter person Sommers was scarcely surprised to recognize Dresser. The +big shoulders of the blond-haired fellow towered above the others; he was +talking excitedly, and they were listening. When they started to cross the +street, Sommers touched Dresser. + +"What are you doing here?" he demanded abruptly. + +"What are _you_ doing? You had better get out of town along with your +rich friends." He motioned sneeringly at the bag in Sommers's hand. + +"I fancied you might be up to something of this kind," Sommers went on, +unheeding his sneer. + +"I had enough of that job of faking up text-books and jollying +schoolteachers. So I chucked it." + +"Why did you chuck me, too?" + +"I thought you might be sick of having me hang about, and especially now +that I am in with the other crowd." + +"That's rot," Sommers laughed. "However, you needn't feel it necessary to +apologize. What are you doing with 'the other crowd'?" + +"I'm secretary of the central committee," Dresser replied, with some +importance. + +"Oh, that's it!" Sommers exclaimed. +"It's better than being a boot-licker to the rich." + +"Like the doctors? Well, we won't quarrel. I suppose you mean to give 'us' +a hard time of it? Come in when it is all settled, and we will talk it +over. Meantime you've got enough mischief on your hands to last you for +some months." + +"I don't blame you," Dresser said benignantly, "for your position. Perhaps +if _I_ had had the opportunities--" + +"That's just it. Your crowd are all alike, at least the leaders; they are +hungry for the fleshpots. If _they_ had the opportunities, _we_ +should be served as they are now. That's the chief trouble,--nobody really +cares to make the sacrifices. And that is why this row will be ended on the +old terms: the rich will buy out the leaders. Better times will come, and +we shall all settle down to the same old game of grab on the same old +basis. But _you_," Sommers turned on the sauntering blue-eyed fellow, +"people like you are the real curse." + +"Why?" + +"Because you are insincere. All you want is the pie. You make me feel that +the privileged classes are right in getting what they can out of fools +and--knaves." + +"That's about enough. I suppose you are put out about the money--" + +"Don't be an ass, Dresser. I don't need the hundred. And I don't want a +quarrel. I think you are playing with dynamite, because you can't get the +plunder others have got. Look out when the dynamite comes down." + +"It makes no difference to me," Dresser protested sullenly. + +"No! That's why you are dangerous. Well, good-by. Get your friends to leave +the Northwestern open a day or two longer." + +"There won't be a train running on the Northwestern to-morrow. I've seen +the orders." + +"Well, I shall foot it home, then." + +They shook hands, and Dresser hurried on after his friends. Sommers +retraced his steps toward the station. Dresser's vulgar and silly phrase, +"boot-licker to the rich," turned up oddly in his memory. It annoyed him. +Every man who sought to change his place, to get out of the ranks, was in a +way a "boot-licker to the rich." He recalled that he was on his way to the +rich now, with a subconscious purpose in his mind of joining them if he +could. Miss Hitchcock's wealth would not be enormous, and it would be easy +enough to show that he was not "boot-licker to the rich." But it was hard +to escape caste prejudices, to live with those who prize ease and yet keep +one's own ideals and opinions. If this woman had the courage to leave her +people, to open a new life with him elsewhere--he smiled at the picture of +Miss Hitchcock conjured up by the idea. + +The streets were filthy as always, and the sultry west wind was sweeping +the filth down the street canons. Here in the district of wholesale +business houses a kind of midsummer gloom reigned. Many stores were vacant, +their broad windows plastered with play-bills. Even in the warehouses along +the river a strange stillness prevailed. "Nothing was doing," in the idiom +of the street. Along the platforms of the railroad company's train house, +however, a large crowd of idlers had assembled. They were watching to see +whether the trainmen would make up the Overland Limited. Debs had said that +this company would not move its through trains if it persisted in using the +tabooed Pullmans. Stout chains had been attached to the sleepers to prevent +any daring attempt to cut out the cars at the last moment. A number of +officials from the general offices were hurrying to and fro apprehensively. +There was some delay, but finally the heavy train began to move. It wound +slowly out of the shed, in a sullen silence of the onlookers. In the yards +it halted. There was a derisive cry, but in a few moments it started again +and disappeared. + +"I guess it's all bluff," a smartly dressed young man remarked to Sommers. +"There's the general manager getting into the Lake Forest two-ten, and +Smith of the C., B. and Q., and Rollins of the Santa Fe, are with him. The +general managers have been in session most of last night and this morning. +They're going to fight it out, if it costs a hundred millions." + +The young man's views seemed to be the popular ones in the Lake Forest +train. It was crowded with young business men, bound out of town for their +holiday. Not a few were going to the country club at Lake Forest. In this +time of business stagnation they were cultivating the new game of golf. +There was a general air of blithe relief when the train pulled out of the +yards, and the dirty, sultry, restless city was left behind. +"Blamed fools to strike now," remarked a fat, perspiring stockbroker. +"Roads aren't earning anything, anyhow." + +The conductor who was taking the tickets smiled and kept his own counsel. + +"Good time to buy rails, all the same," his companion answered. + +"I guess this'll yank old Pullman back to town," another remarked, glancing +up from his paper. + +"You don't know him. It won't bother _him_. He's keeping cool +somewhere in the St. Lawrence. It's up to the railroads now." + +"Let's see your clubs. Did you get 'em straight from Scotland? That's a +pretty iron." + +Older men were chatting confidentially and shaking their heads. But the +atmosphere was not gloomy; an air of easy, assured optimism prevailed. "I +guess it will all come out right, somehow, and the men will be glad to get +back to work.... If Cleveland and his free trade were in hell!..." And the +train sped on through the northern suburbs, coming every now and then +within eyeshot of the sparkling lake. The holiday feeling gained as the +train got farther away from the smoke and heat of the city. The young men +belonged to the "nicer" people, who knew each other in a friendly, +well-bred way. It was a comfortable, social kind of picnic of the better +classes. + +Most of the younger men, and Sommers with them, got into the omnibus +waiting at the Lake Forest station, and proceeded at once to the club. +There, in the sprawling, freshly painted club-house, set down on a +sun-baked, treeless slope, people were already gathered. A polo match was +in progress and also a golf tournament. The verandas were filled with +ladies. One part of the verandas had been screened off, and there, in a +kind of outdoor cafe, people were lunching or sipping cool drinks. At one +of the tables Sommers found Miss Hitchcock and Mrs. Porter, surrounded by a +group of young men and women who were talking and laughing excitedly. + +"Ah! you couldn't get the twelve-thirty," Miss Hitchcock exclaimed, as +Sommers edged to her. "We waited luncheon for you until the train came; but +you are in time for the polo. Caspar is playing--and Parker," she added in +a lower tone. "Let us go down there and watch them." + +Miss Hitchcock detached herself skilfully from the buzzing circle on the +veranda, and the two stepped out on the springy turf. The undulating +prairie was covered with a golden haze. Half a mile west a thin line of +trees pencilled the horizon. The golf course lay up and down the gentle +turfy swells between the club-house and the wind-break of trees. The polo +grounds were off to the left, in a little hollow beside a copse of oak. +There were not many trees over the sixty or more acres, and the roads on +either side of the club grounds were marked by dense clouds of dust. Yet it +was gay--open to the June heavens, with a sense of limitless breathing +space. And it was also very decorous, well-bred, and conventional. + +As they strolled leisurely over the lawns in front of the club-house, Miss +Hitchcock stopped frequently to speak to some group of spectators, or to +greet cheerfully a golfer as he started for the first tee. She seemed very +animated and happy; the decorative scene fitted her admirably. Dr. Lindsay +came up the slope, laboring toward the ninth hole with prodigious welter. + +"That's the way he keeps young," Miss Hitchcock commented approvingly. +"He's one of the best golfers in the club. I like to see the older men +showing that they have powers of enjoyment left." + +"I guess there's no doubt about Lindsay's powers of enjoyment," Sommers +retorted idly. + +They passed Mrs. Carson, "ingeniously and correctly associated," as Miss +Hitchcock commented, and little Laura Lindsay flirting with young Polot. + +Miss Hitchcock quickened her pace, for the polo had already begun. They saw +Caspar Porter's little pony fidgeting under its heavy burden. It became +unmanageable and careered wildly up and down the field, well out of range +of the players. Indeed, most of the ponies seemed inclined to keep their +shins out of the melee. Sommers laughed rather ill-naturedly, and Miss +Hitchcock frowned. She disliked slovenly playing, and shoddy methods even +in polo. When the umpire called time, Parker Hitchcock rode up to where +they were standing and shook hands with the young doctor. As he trotted +off, his sister said earnestly: + +"You have done so much for him; we can never thank you." + +"I don't believe I have done so very much," Sommers replied. He did not +like to have her refer to his mission in New York, or to make, woman-wise, +a sentimental story out of a nasty little scrape. + +"I think polo will help him; papa agrees with me now." + +"Indeed!" Sommers smiled, + +"What is it that you don't say?" the girl flashed at him resentfully. + +"Merely, that this is a nice green paddock for a young man to be turned out +in--when he has barked his shins. Do you know what happens to the ordinary +young man who is--a bit wild?" + +"Well, let us not go into it. I am afraid of you to-day." + +"Yes, I am in one of my crude moods to-day, I confess. I had no business to +come." + +"Not at all. This is just the place for you. Nice people, nice day, nice +sporty feeling in the air. You need relaxation badly." + +"I don't think I shall get it exactly here." + +"Why not?" + +The girl looked out over the shaven turf, dotted with the white figures of +the golfers, at the careering ponies which had begun the new round in the +match, up the slope where the club verandas were gay with familiar +figures,--and it all seemed very good. The man at her side could see all +that and more beyond. He had come within the hour from the din of the city, +where the wealth that flowered here was made. And there was a primitive, +eternal, unanswerable question harassing his soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +"Shall we walk over to the lake," the girl suggested gently, as if anxious +to humor some incomprehensible child. "There is a lovely ravine we can +explore, all cool and shady, and this sun is growing oppressive." + +Sommers accepted gratefully the concession she made to his unsocial mood. +The ravine path revealed unexpected wildness and freshness. The peace of +twilight had already descended there. Miss Hitchcock strolled on, +apparently forgetful of fatigue, of the distance they were putting between +them and the club-house. Sommers respected the charm of the occasion, and, +content with evading the chattering crowd, refrained from all strenuous +discussion. This happy, well-bred, contented woman, full of vitality and +interest, soothed all asperities. She laid him in subtle subjection to her. +So they chatted of the trivial things that must be crossed and explored +before understanding can come. When they neared the lake, the sun had sunk +so far that the beach was one long, dark strip of shade. The little waves +lapped coolly along the breakwaters. They continued their stroll, walking +easily on the hard sand, each unwilling to break the moment of perfect +adjustment. Finally the girl confessed her fatigue, and sat down beside a +breakwater, throwing off her hat, and pushing her hair away from her +temples. She looked up at the man and smiled. 'You see,' she seemed to say, +'I can meet you on your own ground, and the world is very beautiful when +one gets away, when one gets away!' + +"Why did you refuse to go abroad with Uncle Brome?" she asked suddenly. She +was looking out idly across the lake, but something in her voice puzzled +Sommers. + +"I didn't want to go." + +"Chicago fascinates you already!" + +"There were more reasons than one," he answered, after a moment's +hesitation, as if he could trust himself no farther. The girl smiled a bit, +quite to herself. Her throat palpitated a little, and then she turned her +head. + +"Tell me about the cases. Are they so interesting?" + +"There is one curious case," the young doctor responded with masculine +literalness. "It's hardly a case, but an affair I have mixed myself up +with. Do you remember the night of the dinner at your house when Lindsay +was there? The evening before I had been at the Paysons' dance, and when I +returned there was an emergency case just brought to the hospital. They had +telephoned for me, but had missed me. Well, the fellow was a drunken brute +that had been shot a number of times. His wife was with him." + +Sommers paused, finding now that he had started on his tale that it was +difficult to bring out his point, to make this girl understand the +significance of it, and the reason why he told it to her. She was +attentive, but he thought she was a trifle bored. Soon he began again and +went over all the steps of the affair. + +"You see," he concluded, "I was morally certain that, if the operation +succeeded, the fellow would be worse than useless in this world. Now it's +coming true. Of course _I_ have no responsibility; I did what any +other doctor should have done, I suppose; and, if it had been an ordinary +hospital case, I don't suppose that I should have thought twice about it. +But you see that I--this woman has got her load of misery saddled on her, +perhaps for life, and partly through me." + +"I think she did right," the girl responded quickly, looking at the case +from an entirely different side. + +"I am not sure of that," Sommers retorted brusquely. + +"What kind of a woman is she?" the girl inquired with interest, ignoring +his last remark. + +"I don't think I could make you understand her. I don't myself now." + +"Is she pretty?" + +"I don't know. She makes you see her always." + +The girl moved as if the evening wind had touched her, and put on her hat. + +"She's a desperately literal woman, primitive, the kind you never +meet--well, out here. She has a thirst for happiness, and doesn't get a +drop." + +"She must be common, or she wouldn't have married that man," Miss Hitchcock +commented in a hard tone. She rose, and without discussion they took the +path that led along the bluff to the cottages. + +"I didn't think so," the doctor answered positively. "And if you knew her, +you wouldn't think so." + +After a moment he said tentatively, "I wish you could meet her." + +"I should be glad to," Miss Hitchcock replied sweetly, but without +interest. + +Sommers realized the instant he had spoken that he had made a mistake, that +his idea was a purely conventional one. The two women could have nothing +but their sex in common, and that common possession was as likely to be a +ground for difference as for agreement. It was always useless to bring two +people of different classes together. Three generations back the families +of these two women were probably on the same level of society. And, as +woman to woman, the schoolteacher, who travelled the dreary path between +the dingy cottage and the Everglade School, was as full of power and beauty +as this velvety specimen of plutocracy. It was sentimental, however, to +ignore the present facts. Evidently Miss Hitchcock had followed the same +line of reasoning, for when she spoke again she referred distantly to Mrs. +Preston. + +"Those people--teachers--have their own clubs and society. Mrs. Bannerton +was a teacher in the schools before she was married. Do you know Mrs. +Bannerton?" + +"I have met Mrs. Bannerton," Sommers answered indifferently. + +He was annoyed at the trivial insertion of Mrs. Bannerton into the +conversation. He had failed to make Mrs. Preston's story appear important, +or even interesting, and the girl by his side had shown him delicately that +he was a bore. They walked more rapidly in the gathering twilight. The sun +had sunk behind the trees, and the ravine below their path was gloomy. The +mood of the day had changed, and he was sorry--for everything. It was a +petty matter--it was always some petty thing--that came in between them. He +longed to recall the moment on the beach when she had asked him, with a +flicker of a smile upon her face, why he had decided to remain in Chicago. +But they were strangers to each other now,--hopelessly strangers,--and the +worst of it was that they both knew it. + + * * * * * + +There was a large house party at the Hitchcock cottage. The Porters and the +Lindsays, with other guests, were there for the holidays of the Fourth, and +some more people came in for dinner. The men who had arrived on the late +trains brought more news of the strike: the Illinois Central was tied up, +the Rock Island service was crippled, and there were reports that the +Northwestern men were going out _en masse_ on the morrow. The younger +people took the matter gayly, as an opportune occasion for an extended +lark. The older men discussed the strike from all sides, and looked grave. +Over the cigars the general attitude toward the situation came out +strongly: the strikers were rash fools; they'd find that out in a few +weeks. They could do a great deal of harm under their dangerous leaders, +but, if need be, the courts, the state, the federal government, would be +invoked for aid. Law and order and private rights must be respected. The +men said these things ponderously, with the conviction that they were +reciting a holy creed of eternal right. They were men of experience, who +had never questioned the worth of the society in which they were privileged +to live. They knew each other, and they knew life, and at the bottom it was +as useless to kick against the laws of society as to interfere with the +laws of nature. Besides, it was all very good--a fair enough field for any +one. + +Sommers was excited by the reports. It made him restless to be lolling here +outside of the storm when such a momentous affair was moving down the lake +under the leaden pall of the city smoke. He asked questions eagerly, and +finally got into discussion with old Boardman, one of the counsel for a +large railroad. + +"Who is that raw youth?" old Boardman asked Porter, when the younger men +joined the ladies on the veranda. + +"Some protege of Alec's," Brome Porter replied. "Son of an old +friend--fresh chap." + +"I am afraid our young friend is not going to turn out well," Dr. Lindsay, +who had overheard the discussion, added in a distressed tone. "I have done +what I can for him, but he is very opinionated and green--yes, very green. +Pity--he is a clever fellow, one of the cleverest young surgeons in the +city." + +"He talks about what he doesn't _know_," Boardman pronounced +sententiously. "When he's lived with decent folks a little longer, he'll +get some sense knocked into his puppy head, maybe." + +"Maybe," Brome Porter assented, dismissing this crude, raw, green, ignorant +young man with a contemptuous grunt. + +Outside on the brick terrace the younger people had gathered in a circle +and were discussing the polo match. Miss Hitchcock's clear, mocking voice +could be heard teasing her cousin Caspar on his performance that afternoon. +The heavy young man, whose florid face was flushed with the champagne he +had taken, made ineffective attempts to ward off the banter. Parker +Hitchcock came to his rescue. + +"I say, Lou, it's absurd to compare us with the teams east. We haven't the +stable. Who ever heard of playing with two ponies?" + +He appealed to Sommers, who happened to be seated next him. + +"Steve Bayliss buys ponies by the carload and takes his pick. You can't +play polo without good ponies, can you?" + +"I don't know," Sommers answered indifferently. + +He was looking at the lights along the shore, and contriving some excuse to +cut short his visit. It was clear that he was uncomfortably out of his +element in the chattering circle. He was too dull to add joy to such a +gathering, and he got little joy from it. And he was feverishly anxious to +be doing something, to put his hand to some plough--to escape the perpetual +irritation of talk. + +The chatter went on from polo to golf and gossip until the group broke up +into flirtation couples. As Sommers was about to stroll off to the beach, +Lindsay came out of the dining room and sat down by him with the amiable +purpose of giving his young colleague some good social doctrine. He talked +admiringly of the manner in which the general managers had taken hold of +the strike. + +"Most of them are from the ranks, you know," he said, "fought their way up +to the head, just as any one of those fellows could if he had the ability, +and they _know_ what they're doing." + +"There is no one so bitter, so arrogant, so proud as your son of a peasant +who has got the upper hand," Sommers commented philosophically. + +"The son of a peasant?" Lindsay repeated, bewildered. + +"Yes, that's what our money-makers are,--from the soil, from the masses. +And when they feel their power, they use it worse than the most arrogant +aristocrats. Of course the strikers are all wrong, poor fools!" he hastened +to add. "But they are not as bad as the others, as _those who have_. +The men will be licked fast enough, and licked badly. They always will be. +But it is a brutal game, a brutal game, this business success,--a good deal +worse than war, where you line up in the open at least." + +Sommers spoke nonchalantly, as if his views could not interest Dr. Lindsay, +but were interesting to himself, nevertheless. + +"That's pretty fierce!" Lindsay remarked, with a laugh. "I guess you +haven't seen much of business. If you had been here during the anarchist +riots--" + +Sommers involuntarily shrugged his shoulders. The anarchist was the most +terrifying bugaboo in Chicago, referred to as a kind of Asiatic plague that +might break out at any time. Before Lindsay could get his argument +launched, however, some of the guests drifted out to the terrace, and the +two men separated. + +Later in the evening Sommers found Miss Hitchcock alone, and explained to +her that he should have to leave in the morning, as that would probably be +the last chance to reach Chicago for some days. She did not urge him to +stay, and expressed her regret at his departure in conventional phrases. +They were standing by the edge of the terrace, which ran along the bluff +above the lake. A faint murmur of little waves rose to them from the beach +beneath. + +"It is so heavenly quiet!" the girl murmured, as if to reproach his +dissatisfied, restless spirit. "So this is good-bye?" she added, at length. + +Sommers knew that she meant this would be the end of their intimacy, of +anything but the commonplace service of the world. + +"I hope not," he answered regretfully. + +"Why is it we differ?" she asked swiftly. "I am sorry we should disagree on +such really unimportant matters." + +"Don't say that," Sommers protested. "You know that it is just because you +are intelligent and big enough to realize that they _are_ important +that--" + +"We strike them every time?" she inquired. + +"Laura Lindsay and Caspar would think we were drivelling idiots." + +"I am not so sure they wouldn't be right!" She laughed nervously, and +locked her hands tightly together. He turned away in discomfort, and +neither spoke for a long time. Finally he broke the silence,-- + +"At any rate, you can see that I am scarcely a fit guest!" + +"So you are determined to go in this way--back to your--case?" + +At the scorn of her last words Sommers threw up his head haughtily. + +"Yes, back to my case." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mrs. Ducharme opened the door of the cottage in response to Sommers's +knock. Attired in a black house dress, with her dark hair smoothly brushed +back from round, fat features, she was a peaceful figure. Sommers thought +there was some truth in her contention that "Ducharme ought to get a +decent-looking woman, anyway." + +"How is Mr. Preston?" he asked. + +Mrs. Ducharme shook her head mournfully. + +"Bad, allus awful bad--and _pitiful_. Calling for stuff in a voice fit +to break your heart." + +"Mind you don't let him get any," the doctor counselled, preparing to go +upstairs. + +"Better not go up there jest yet," the woman whispered. "He _did_ get +away from us yesterdy and had a terrible time over there." She hitched her +shoulders in the direction of Stoney Island Avenue. "We ain't found out +till he'd been gone 'most two hours, and, my! such goings on; we had to git +two perlicemen." + +"I suppose you were out looking for Ducharme?" the doctor asked, in a +severe tone. + +"It was the last time," the woman pleaded, her eyes downcast. "Come in +here. Miss Preston ain't got back from school,--she's late to-day." + +Sommers walked into the bare sitting room and sat down, while Mrs. Ducharme +leaned against the door-post, fingering her apron in an embarrassed manner. + +"I've got cured," she blurted out at last. "My eye was awful bad, and it's +been most a week since you sent me here." + +"Did you follow my treatment?" + +"No! I was out one afternoon--after Mrs. Preston came back from school--and +I had walked miles and miles. Comin' home I passed a buildin' down here a +ways on the avenue where there were picter papers pasted all over the +windows; the picters were all about healin' folks, heaps and heaps in great +theaters, a nice white-haired old preacher doin' the healin'. While I was +lookin' at the picters, a door opened and a young feller came along and +helped 'em carry in a cripple in his chair. He turns to me arter finishin' +with the cripple and says, 'Come in, lady, and be healed in the blood of +the lamb.' In I went, sure enough, and there was a kind of rough church +fitted up with texts printed in great show-bills, and they was healin' +folks. The little feller was helpin' em up the steps to the platform, and +the old feller was prayin', and at last the young feller comes to me and +says, 'Want ter be healed?' and I just got up, couldn't help it, and walked +to the platform, and they prayed over me--you aren't mad, are you?" she +asked suspiciously. + +Sommers laughed. + +"Mrs. Preston said you'd be very angry with such nonsense. But at any rate +the old fellow--Dr.--Dr.--Po--" + +"Dr. Potz," Sommers suggested. + +"That's him. He cured me, and I went back again and told him about +Ducharme. And _he_ says that he's got a devil, and he will cast it out +by prayin'. But he wants money." + +"How much will it cost to cast out the devil?" the doctor inquired. + +"The doctor says he must have ten dollars to loosen the bonds." + +"Well," Sommers drew a bill from his pocket, "there's ten dollars on +account of your wages. Now, don't you interfere with the doctor's work. You +let him manage the devil his own way, and if you see Ducharme or the other +woman, you run away as hard as you can. If you don't, you may bring the +devil back again." + +The woman took the money eagerly. + +"You can go right off to find the doctor," Sommers continued. "I'll stay +here until Mrs. Preston returns. But let me look at your eye, and see +whether the doctor has cast that devil out for good and all." + +He examined the eye as well as he could without appliances. Sure enough, so +far as he could detect, the eye was normal, the peculiar paralysis had +disappeared. + +"You are quite right," he pronounced at last. "The doctor has handled this +devil very ably. You can tell Mrs. Preston that I approve of your going to +that doctor." + +"I wonder where Mrs. Preston can be: she's most always here by half-past +four, and it's after five. He," the woman pointed upstairs to Preston's +rooms, "is sleeping off the effects of the dose Mrs. Preston gave him." + +"The powders?" the doctor asked. + +"Yes, sir. She had to give him two before he would sleep. Well, I'll be +back by supper time. If he calls you, be careful about the bar on the +door." + +After Mrs. Ducharme had gone, the doctor examined every object in the +little room. It was all so bare! Needlessly so, Sommers thought at first, +contrasting the bleak room with the comfortable simplicity of his own +rooms. The strip of coarse thin rug, the open Franklin stove, the pine +kitchen table, the three straight chairs--it was as if the woman, crushed +down from all aspirations, had defiantly willed to exist with as little of +this world's furniture as might be. On the table were a few school books, a +teacher's manual of drawing, a school mythology, and at one side two or +three other volumes, which Sommers took up with more interest. One was a +book on psychology--a large modern work on the subject. A second was an +antiquated popular treatise on "Diseases of the Mind." Another volume was +an even greater surprise--Balzac's _Une Passion dans la Desert_, a +well-dirtied copy from the public library. They were fierce condiments for +a lonely mind! + +His examination over, he noiselessly stepped into the hall and went +upstairs. After some fumbling he unbolted the door and tiptoed into the +room, where Preston lay like a log. The fortnight had changed him markedly. +There was no longer any prospect that he would sink under his disease, as +Sommers had half expected. He had grown stouter, and his flesh had a +healthy tint. "It will take it out of his mind," he muttered to himself, +watching the hanging jaw that fell nervelessly away from the mouth, +disclosing the teeth. + +As he watched the man's form, so drearily promising of physical power, he +heard a light footstep at the outer door, which he had left unbarred. On +turning he caught the look of relief that passed over Mrs. Preston's face +at the sight of the man lying quietly in his bed. What a state of fear she +must live in! + +Without a word the two descended, Sommers carefully barring and bolting the +door. When they reached her room, her manner changed, and she spoke with a +note of elation in her voice: + +"I was _so_ afraid that you would not come again after sending me +help." + +"I shall come as often and as long as you need me," Sommers answered, +taking her hand kindly. "He has had another attack," he continued. "Mrs. +Ducharme told me--I sent her out--and I suppose he's sleeping off the +opiate." + +"Yes, it was dreadful, worse than anything yet." She uttered these words +jerkily, walking up and down the room in excitement. "And I've just left +the schoolhouse. The assistant superintendent was there to see me. He was +kind enough, but he said it couldn't happen again. There was scandal about +it now. And yesterday I heard a child, one of my pupils, say to his +companion, 'She's the teacher who's got a drunken husband.'" + +Her voice was dreary, not rebellious. + +"I don't know what to do. I cannot move. It would be worse in any other +neighborhood. I thought," she added in a low voice, "that he would go away, +for a time at least, but his mind is so weak, and he has some trouble with +walking. But he gets stronger, stronger, O God, every day! I have to see +him grow stronger, and I grow weaker." + +"It is simply preposterous," the doctor protested in matter-of-fact tones, +"to kill yourself, to put yourself in such a position for a man, who is no +longer a man. For a man you cannot love," he added. + +"What would be the use of running away from the trouble? He has ruined my +life. Alves Preston is a mere thing that eats and sleeps. She will be that +kind of thing as long as she lives." + +"That is romantic rot," the doctor observed coldly. "No life is ruined in +that way. One life has been wrecked; but you, _you_ are bigger than +that life. You can recover--bury it away--and love and have children and +find that it is a good thing to live. That is the beauty of human +weakness--we forget ourselves of yesterday." + +In answer to his words her face, which he had once thought too immobile and +passive for beauty, flamed with color, the dark eyes flashing beneath the +broad white brow. + +"Am I just caught in a fog?" she murmured. + +"You are living in a way that would make any woman mad. I might twist +myself into as many knots as you have. I might say that _I_ had caused +this disaster; that March evening my hand was too true. For I knew then the +man ought to die." + +He blurted out his admission roughly. + +"I knew you did," she said softly, "and that has made it easier." + +His voice trembled when he spoke again. "But I live with facts, not +fancies. And the facts are that that ruined thing should not clog you, ruin +_you_. Get rid of him in any way you will,--I advise the county +asylum. Get rid of him, and do it quickly before he crazes you." + +When he had finished, there was an oppressive stillness in the room, as if +some sentence had been declared. Mrs. Preston got up and walked to and fro, +evidently battling with herself. She stopped opposite him finally. + +"The only thing that would justify _that_ would be to know that you +grasped it all--real happiness in that one bold stroke. Such conviction can +_never_ come." + +"Happiness!" he exclaimed scornfully. "If you mean a good, comfortable +time, you won't find any certainty about _that_. But you can get freedom to +live out your life--" + +"You fail to understand. There _is_ happiness. See,--come here." + +She led him to the front window, which was open toward the peaceful little +lawn. On the railroad track behind the copse of scrub oak an unskilful +train crew was making up a long train of freight cars. Their shouts, +punctuated by the rumbling reverberations from the long train as it +alternately buckled up and stretched out, was the one discord in the soft +night. All else was hushed, even to the giant chimneys in the steel works. +One solitary furnace lamped the growing darkness. It was midsummer now in +these marshy spots, and a very living nature breathed and pulsed, even in +the puddles between the house and the avenue. + +"You can hear it in the night air," she murmured; "the joy that comes +rising up from the earth, the joy of living. Ah! that is why we are +made--to have happiness and joy, to rejoice the heart of God, to make God +live, for _He_ must be happiness itself; and when we are happy and +feel joy in living, He must grow stronger. And when we are weak and bitter, +when the world haunts us as I felt this afternoon on leaving the +superintendent, when men strike and starve, and others are hard and +grasping--then He must shrink and grow small and suffer. There _is_ +happiness," she ended, breathing her belief as a prayer into the solitude +and night. + +"What will you do to get it?" Sommers asked, shortly. + +"Do to get it?" She drew back from the window, her figure tense. "When it +comes within my grasp, I will do everything, everything, and nothing shall +hinder me." + +"Meantime?" the doctor questioned significantly. + +"Don't ask me!" She sank into a chair and covered her eyes with her hand. +And neither spoke until the sound of footsteps was heard on the walk. + +"There is Mrs. Ducharme coming home from the charmer of devils. It is time +for me to go," Sommers said. + +The room was so dark that he could not see her face, as he extended his +hand; but he could feel the repressed breathing, the passionate air about +her person. + +"Remember," he said slowly, "whenever you need me--want me for +anything--send a message, and I shall come at once. We will settle this +thing together." + +There was a sharp pressure on his hand, her thin fingers drawing him toward +her involuntarily. Then his hand dropped, and he groped his way to the +door. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The cars were still whirring up and down Stoney Island Avenue when Sommers +left the cottage, but he did not think to stop one. Instead, he walked on +heedlessly, mechanically, toward the city. Frequently he stumbled and with +difficulty saved himself from falling over the dislocated planks of the +wooden walk. The June night was brilliant above with countless points of +light. A gentle wind drew in shore from the lake, stirring the tall rushes +in the adjacent swamps. Occasionally a bicyclist sped by, the light from +his lantern wagging like a crazy firefly. The night was strangely still; +the clamorous railroads were asleep. Far away to the south a solitary +engine snorted at intervals, indicating the effort of some untrained hand +to move the perishing freight. Chicago was a helpless giant to-night. When +he came to the region of saloons, which were crowded with strikers, he +turned away from the noise and the stench of bad beer, and struck into a +grass-grown street in the direction of the lake. There he walked on, +unmindful of time or destination, in the marvellous state of conscious +dream. + +The little space of one day separated him from that final meeting with Miss +Hitchcock in the pleasant cottage above the lake. He had gone there, drawn +by her, and he had gone away repelled, at strife with himself, with her. +Nothing had happened since, and yet everything. As he had said to another +woman, Mrs. Preston was a woman you remembered. And he had said that of a +woman very different from the one he had seen and spoken with this night. +That stricken, depressed creature of the night of the operation had faded +away, and in her place was this passionate, large-hearted woman, who had +spoken to him bravely as an equal in the dark room of the forbidding +cottage. She had thrown a spell into his life this night, and his steps +were wandering on, purposeless, unconscious, with an exhilaration akin to +some subtle opiate. + +Her life was set in noisome places. Yet the poor mass of clay in the upper +room that had burdened her so grievously--what was it, after all, but one +of the ephemeral unrealities of life to be brushed aside? Decay, defeat, +falling and groaning; disease, blind doctoring of disease; hunger and +sorrow and sordid misery; the grime of living here in Chicago in the sharp +discords of this nineteenth century; the brutal rich, the brutalized poor; +the stupid good, the pedantic, the foolish,--all, all that made the waking +world of his experience! It was like the smoke wreath above the lamping +torch of the blast-furnace. It was the screen upon which glowed the rosy +colors of the essential fire. The fire,--that was the one great thing,--the +fire was life itself. + +As he walked on in the tumultuous sensations of dream, the discords of +living were swept away: the beautiful flesh that rotted; the noble human +figures that it was well to have covered; the shame of woman's form, of +man's corrupted carcass; the world that has, with its beauty and charm, +side by side with the world that has not, with its grime and its nastiness. +In the dream that he dreamed the difference between the woman who had +adornment and the other sad one back there in the cottage was as nothing. +The irritating paradox of life was reconciled: there was great +reasonableness in things, and he had found it. + +Men fought and gambled to-day in the factories, the shops, the railroads, +as they fought in the dark ages, for the same ends--for sensual pleasures, +gross love of power, barbaric show. They would fight on, glorifying their +petty deeds of personal gain; but not always. The mystery of human defeat +in the midst of success would be borne in upon them. The barbarians of +trade would give way, as had the barbarians of feudal war. This heaving, +moaning city, blessedly quiet tonight, would learn its lesson of futility. +His eyes that had been long searching the dark were opened now, and he +could bide his few years of life in peace. He had labored too long in the +charnel house. + +He forgave life for its disgusting manifestations, for the triviality of +Lindsay, for the fleshy Porter with his finger in the stock market, for the +ambitious Carson who would better have rested in his father's dugout in +Iowa. They were a part of the travailing world, without which it could not +fulfil its appointed destiny. It was childish to dislike them; with this +God-given peace and understanding one could never be impatient, nor foam at +the mouth. He could enter into himself and remove them from him, from +_her_. Some day they two would quietly leave it all, depart to a place +where as man and woman they could live life simply, sweetly. Yes, they had +already departed, had faded away from the strife, and he was no longer in +doubt about anything. He had ceased to think, and for the first moment in +his life he was content to feel. + +All emotion over life must come to be transmuted to this--an elemental +state of conviction transforming the tawdry acts of life. There was but +this one everlasting emotion which equalized everything, in which all +manifestations of life had their proper place and proportion, according to +which man could work in joy. She and he were accidents of the story. They +might go out into darkness to-night; there was eternal time and multitudes +of others to take their place, to feel the ancient, purifying fire--to love +and have peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The Fourth, of July had never before been kept in the like manner in +Chicago. There was a row or two at Grand Crossing between the strikers and +the railroad officials, several derailed cars and spiked switches, a row at +Blue Island, and a bonfire in the stock yards. People were not travelling +on this holiday, and the main streets were strangely silent and dull. + +Sommers had found no one at the office in the Athenian Building. Lindsay +had not been in since the strike began. Probably he would not appear until +the disorderly city had settled down. Sommers had taken the clinic +yesterday; to-day there was nothing for him to do except exercise his horse +by a long ride in the blazing sunshine. Before he left the office a +telegram came from Lake Forest, announcing that a postponed meeting of the +board of managers of the summer sanitarium for poor babies would be put off +indefinitely. Sommers knew what that meant--no appropriation for carrying +on the work. At the last meeting the board of managers, who were women for +the most part, had disagreed about the advisability of undertaking the work +this season, when every one was feeling poor. Some women had been +especially violent against supporting the charity in those districts where +the strikers lived. + +Miss Hitchcock, who was the secretary, and Sommers had got the heated +members of the board to suppress their prejudices for the present, and vote +a temporary subsidy. The telegram meant that under the present +circumstances it would be hopeless to try to extract money from the usual +sources. The sanitarium and creche would have to close within a week, and +Sommers was left to arrange matters. After he had taken the necessary +measures, he started on his ride. He had in mind to ride out of the city +along the lines of railroad to the southwest to see whether the newspaper +reports of the strike were justified or, as he suspected, grossly +exaggerated. The newspapers, at first inclined to side with the Pullman men +in their demand for arbitration, had suddenly turned about and were +denouncing the strikers as anarchists. They were spreading broadcast +throughout the country violent reports of incendiarism and riot. + +Outside of the stations and the adjacent yards Sommers found little to see. +A great stagnation had settled over the city this hot July day. Somewhat +disappointed in his search for excitement he came back at nightfall to the +cool stretches of the South Parks. He turned into the desolate Midway, +where the unsightly wheel hung an inert, abortive mass in the violet dusk. +His way home lay in the other direction, and his horse trotted languidly. +He had determined to turn back, when suddenly a tongue of flame shot up a +mile away toward the lake. This first long tongue ran out, followed by +another and another, and yet others that raced north and south and up into +the night. + +"The Fair Buildings!" a man on a bicycle shouted, and sped away. + +The broad flames now illuminated the dome of the Administration Building +and the facades of the Court of Honor. Sommers spurred his horse, while the +loungers suddenly, with one cry, poured from the park along the rough paths +of the Midway, streaming out across the prairie toward the fire. He plunged +into the cool gulf under the Illinois Central tracks, then out into a glare +of full day, before the wild, licking flames. The Court of Honor with its +empty lagoon and broken bridges was more beautiful in the savage glow of +the ravaging fire than ever on the gala nights of the exposition. The +fantastic fury of the scene fascinated man and beast. The streaming lines +of people raced on, and the horse snorted and plunged into the mass. Now +the crackling as of paper burning in a brisk wind could be heard. There was +a shout from the crowd. The flames had gained the Peristyle--that noble +fantasy plucked from another, distant life and planted here above the +barbaric glow of the lake in the lustrous atmosphere of Chicago. The +horseman holding his restive steeds drove in a sea of flame. Through the +empty arches the dark waters of the lake caught the reflection and sombrely +relighted the scene. + +Sommers almost knocked over a woman who was gazing in speechless absorption +at the panorama of flame. In the light of the fire he could see that it was +Mrs. Preston. She seemed entranced, fascinated like an animal by the +savagery of the fierce fire. + +"It is grand, beautiful," she murmured to Sommers, who had dismounted. Her +large frame trembled with suppressed excitement, and her face glowed. + +"Beauty eating beauty," Sommers replied sadly. + +"They ought to go, just like this--shoot up into the sky in flame and die, +expire in the last beauty." + +The excitement of the scene loosened her tongue, gave her whole being +expression, and made her words thrill. She took off her hat as if to free +her body, even by that little, while she drank in the scene of leaping +flames, the crescendo of light, the pathetic, noble emptiness between the +fire-eaten pillars of the Peristyle. + +"That is better than the Fair itself. It is fiercer--not mere play." + +"Nature has taken a hand," Sommers said grimly, "and knocks about man's +toys. Look!" + +He pointed to the fairylike brightness of the island in the lagoon. The +green leafage of the shrubbery was suffused in tender light; the waters +reflected calmly all their drapery, but none of the savage desolation of +the pyre in the Court of Honor. Beyond where the gracious pile of the Art +Building stretched across the horizon the light clouds of smoke floated, a +gray wreath in the night. The seething mass of flame began to abate, to +lessen almost imperceptibly, exhausting itself slowly with deep groans like +the dying of a master passion. + +Sommers suggested that they should circle the fire to the south, where they +could see to better advantage the Peristyle now burning almost alone. They +made the circuit slowly, Sommers leading his frightened animal among the +refuse of the grounds. Mrs. Preston walked tranquilly by his side, her face +still illuminated by the fading glow. The prairie lay in gloomy vastness, +lighted but a little way by the waning fire. Along the avenue forms of men +and women--mere mites--were running to and fro. The figures were those of +gnomes toiling under a gloomy, uncertain firmament, or of animals furtively +peeping out of the gloom of dusk in a mountain valley. Helpless shapes +doomed to wander on the sandy strand of the earth! + +The two found a place above the little inlet, directly across from the +burning Peristyle. The fire had burned itself out now, and was dying with +protests of reviving flame spurting here and there from the dark spots of +the Court. The colossal figure rising from the lagoon in front of the +Peristyle was still illuminated,--the light falling upon the gilded ball +borne aloft,--solemnly presiding even in the ruins of the dream. And behind +this colossal figure of triumph the noble horseman still reined in his +frightened chargers. The velvet shadows of the night were falling once more +over the distant Art Building, creeping over the little island, leaving the +lagoons in murky silence. The throngs of curious people that had clustered +about the western end of the fire were thinning out rapidly. A light night +breeze from the empty spaces of prairie wafted the smoke wreaths northward +toward the city of men whose plaything had been taken. At their feet a +white column of staff plunged into the water, hissed and was silent. The +passion was well-nigh spent. + +Mrs. Preston sighed, like a child waking from a long revery, a journey into +another land. + +"I never felt that the fierce things, the passions of life, could bring +their happiness too. It seemed that happiness was something peaceful, like +the fields at night or this lake when it is still. But that is but +_one_ kind. There are many others." + +Her low voice, powerful in its restraint, took up the mood of the place. + +"It dies," Sommers replied. "Burnt out!" + +"No," she protested eagerly; "it remains in the heart, warming it in dull, +cold times, and its great work comes after. It is not well to live without +fierceness and passion." + +The last lights from the fire flickered over her dark hair and sombre face. +She was breathing heavily close by his side, throwing into the soft night a +passionate warmth of feeling. It set his pulses beating in response. + +"You are so insistent upon happiness," the man cried. + +"Yes," she nodded. "To die out without this"--her hand pointed to the +blackened Court of Honor--"is to have lived unfulfilled. That is what I +felt as a child in the rich fields of Wisconsin, as a girl at the chapel of +the seminary." + +And she began, as if to explain herself, to tell the story of the Wisconsin +farm, sleeping heavily in the warm sun among the little lakes; of the crude +fervor that went on under the trees of the quiet seminary hill; of the +little chapel with its churchyard to the west, commanding the lakes, the +woods, the rising bosom of hills. The story was disconnected, lapsing into +mere exclamations, rising to animated description as one memory wakened +another in the chain of human associations. Bovine, heavy, and animal, yet +peaceful, was that picture of Wisconsin farm lands, saturated with a few +strong impressions,--the scents of field and of cattle, the fertile soil, +and the broad-shouldered men, like Holstein cattle. + +The excitement of the evening had set free the heart, and a torrent of +feelings and memories surged up,--disordered, turbulent, yet strangely +unified by the simple nature, the few aims of the being that held them. The +waters of the past had been gathering these past weeks, and now she found +peace in their release, in the abandonment of herself through speech. The +night crept on, cooler now and clouded, the heavens covered with filaments +of gray lace; the horse tied near by stamped and whinnied. But the two +sitting on the shore of the silent lake felt neither the passing of time +nor the increasing cold of the night. + +At the end of her tale the dominant note sounded once more: "Eight or +wrong, happiness! for if we make happiness in the world, we know God. God +lives upon our happiness." + +This belief, which seemed laboriously gathered from the tears of tortured +experience, had become an obsession. She was silent, brooding over it; but +she herself was there, larger, less puzzling and negative than +hitherto,--an awakening force. The man lost his anchor of convention and +traditional reasoning. He felt with her an excitement, a thirst for this +evanescent treasure of joy. + +"If you think that--if your whole story turns out that way--why did you--" +But he paused, unwilling to force her by a brutal proof of illogicality. + +"How is _he_?" he asked at last, with effort. + +Her head had drooped forward, but with this question she moved quickly, as +if suddenly lashed. + +"He is better, always better." + +"My God!" the man groaned. + +"But his mind is weaker--it wanders. Sometimes it is clear; then it is +dreadful." + +"You must not endure it!" + +She laid her hand lightly upon his arm, warning him of the inutility of his +protest. + +"I think we must endure it now. If it had been done earlier, before--" she +answered tranquilly; and added definitely, "it is too late now for any +relief." + +It was on his lips to cry out, "Why, why?" but as his eyes looked into her +face and met her warm, wistful glance, he acquiesced in the fate she had +ordained. He took her hand, the one that had touched him, and for the time +he was content that things should be as they were. She was looking out into +the ruined buildings, where embers hissed; at last she lowered her eyes, +and whispered: + +"It is very good even as it is, now." + +But he rebelled, manlike, unwilling to be satisfied with mere feeling, +desirous of retrieving the irretrievable. "Fool," he muttered, "a weak fool +I have been! _I_ have fastened this monstrous chain about you--about +_us_." + +"Let us not think of it----to-night," she murmured, her eyes burning into +his face. + + * * * * * + +The first gray of the morning was revealing the outlines of the scrub oaks +in the field as the two came back to the cottage. Sommers tied his horse to +a fence-post at the end of the lane, and went in to warm himself from the +chill of the night air. Mrs. Preston prepared some coffee, while he built a +fire in the unused stove. Then she drew up her work-table before the fire +and poured out the coffee into two thick cups. As there was no cream, she +remarked with a little smile, "It is very late for after-dinner coffee!" + +She moved and spoke with extreme caution, not to disturb Mrs. Ducharme and +Preston, who became excitable when awakened suddenly. They drank their +coffee in silence, and Sommers had stood up to leave. + +"I shall come very soon," he was saying, and her face responded with a +little smile that lit up its sober corners and hard lines. Suddenly it grew +rigid and white, and her eyes stared beyond the doctor into the gloom of +the room. Sommers turned to follow her gaze. The door moved a little. There +was some one outside, peering in. Sommers strode across the floor and threw +the door open. In the dim light of the dawn he could see Preston, half +dressed. He had slunk back from the door. + +"Come in," the doctor ordered sternly. + +The man obeyed, shambling into the room with an air of bravado. + +"Oh, it's you, is it, doctor?" he remarked quite naturally, with an air of +self-possession. "Haven't seen you for a long time; you don't come this way +often, at least to see _me_," he added insinuatingly, looking at his +wife. "I heard voices, and I thought I would come down to see what my wife +was up to. Women always need a little watching, doctor, as you probably +know." + +He walked toward the table. As he stood there talking in a sneering voice, +in full flesh, shaved and clean, he certainly did not look like a man +stricken with paresis. Yet the doctor knew that this fitful mood of sanity +was deceitful. The feeble brain had given a momentary spurt. + +"Coffee?" Preston continued, as the others remained silent. "Haven't you +got anything better than coffee? Where have you been, Mrs. Preston and +Dr.--?" + +Mrs. Preston tremblingly poured out some coffee and handed it to him. The +act enraged the doctor. It seemed symbolical. Preston threw the cup to the +floor. + +"None of your rot," he shouted. "I bet _you_ have had something more +than coffee, you--" he glared at his wife, his limbs trembling and +twitching as the nervous irritation gained on him. Sommers sprang forward. + +"Go upstairs," he commanded sternly. "You are not fit to be here." + +"Who are you to give me orders in my own house before _my_ wife?" The +man balanced himself against the table. "You get out of this and never come +back. I am a gentleman, I want you to know, and I may be a drunkard and all +that, but I am not going to have any man hanging--" + +Sommers seized Preston by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the +stairs. The man fought and bit and cursed. A black slime of words fell from +his lips, covering them all with its defilement. Finally the struggles +subsided, and with one mighty effort the doctor threw him into the upper +chamber and closed the door behind them. In a few moments he came +downstairs, bolting the door carefully. When he entered the room, he saw +Mrs. Preston staring at the door as if entranced, her face marble with +horror. + +"I gave him a hypodermic injection. He will sleep a few hours," Sommers +muttered, throwing himself into a chair. + +Mrs. Preston sat down at the table and folded her arms about her face. Her +figure shook with her silent sobs. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +"When the men confront bayonets, you know, they'll give in quick enough. I +have reason to believe that the President has already ordered United States +troops to protect lives and property in Chicago. The general managers will +get an injunction restraining Debs and his crew. When the courts take a +hand--" + + +"So it's to be made into a civil war, is it?" Sommers interposed +sarcastically. "I saw that the bankrupt roads had appealed to the +government for protection. Like spendthrift sons, they run to their +guardian in time of trouble." + +"Oh! you know this thing can't go on. It's a disgrace. I was called to go +to Detroit on an important case; it would mean two thousand dollars to +me,--but I can't get out of the city." + +Dr. Lindsay was in an ill humor, having spent three early morning hours in +driving into town from Lake Forest. Sommers listened to his growling, +patiently if not respectfully, and when the eminent physician had finished, +he spoke to him about a certain operation that was on the office docket for +the following week. + +"You haven't asked my opinion, doctor," he said, in conclusion; "but I have +been thinking over the case. I was present at General Horr's examination, +and have seen a good deal of the case these last days while you were out of +town." Lindsay stared, but the young man plunged on. "So I have ventured to +remonstrate. It would do no good, and it might be serious." + +The day was so hot that any feeling sent beads of perspiration to the face. +Sommers paused when Lindsay began to mop his head. + +"I may say to start with," Lindsay answered, with an irascible air, as if +he intended to take this time to finish the young man's case, "that I am in +the habit of consulting my attending physicians, and not having them +dictate to me--" + +"Who is dictating?" Sommers asked bluntly. "That old man can't possibly get +any good from an operation--" + +"It will do him no harm?" Lindsay retorted, with an interrogation in his +tone that made the younger surgeon stare. What he might have said when he +realized the full meaning of Lindsay's remark was not clear in his own +mind. At that moment, however, one of the women employed in the office +knocked at the door. She had a telephone message. + +"Somebody, I think it was Mrs. Prestess or Preton, or something--" + +"Preston," suggested Sommers. + +"That's it. The message was she was in trouble and wanted you as soon as +possible. But some one is at the wire now." + +Sommers hastened out without making excuses. When he returned, Dr. Lindsay +had dried his face and was calmer. But his aspect was sufficiently ominous; +he was both pompous and severe. + +"Sit down, doctor, will you. I have a few words--some things I have been +meditating to say to you a long time, ever since our connection began, in +fact." + +Sommers did not sit down. He stood impatiently, twirling a stethoscope in +his hand. He had passed the schoolboy age and was a bit overbearing +himself. + +"As a young man of good promise, well introduced, and vouched for by some +of our best people, I have naturally looked for great things from you." + +Sommers stopped the rotation of the stethoscope and squared about. His face +was no longer flushed with irritation. Some swift purpose seemed to steady +him. As Sommers made no reply to this exordium, Lindsay began again, in his +diagnostic manner: + +"But I have been disappointed. Not that you haven't done your work well +enough, so far as I know. But you have more than a young man's +self-assurance and self-assertion. I have noticed also a note of +condescension, of criticism in your bearing to those about you. The +critical attitude to society and individuals is a bad one for a successful +practitioner of medicine to fall into. It is more than that--it is +illiberal; it comes from a continued residence in a highly exotic society, +in a narrow intellectual circle. Breadth of mind--" + +Sommers made an impatient gesture. Every sentence led the florid +practitioner farther and farther into the infinite. Another time the young +surgeon would have derived a wicked satisfaction from driving the doctor +around the field in his argument. To-day the world, life, was amove, and +more important matters waited in the surcharged city. He must be gone. He +said nothing, however, for another five minutes, waiting for some good +opportunity to end the talk. But Lindsay had once lectured in a college; he +did not easily finish his exposition. He vaguely sketched a social +philosophy, and he preached the young specialist successful as he preached +him on graduating days of the medical school. He was shrewd, eloquent, +kind, and boresome. At last came the clause: + +"If you are to continue your connection with this office--" + +"I should like to talk that over with you some other day," Sommers +interposed positively, "when I have more time. I am sorry that I shall have +to leave at once." After a moment, he added, "And if you have any one in +mind for my place, don't bother--" + +Lindsay waved his hand. + +"We never have to 'bother' about any member of our force." + +"Oh! very well. I didn't want to leave you in a hole. Perhaps I was +presumptuous to suppose I was of any importance in the office." + +Sommers stepped briskly to the door, while Lindsay wheeled to his desk. +Before he opened the door, he paused and called back pleasantly: + +"But really I shouldn't operate on the General. Poor old man! And he hasn't +much money--'the usual fee' would come hard on him." + +Lindsay paid no attention to the remark. Sommers had passed from his world +altogether; there would be a long, hard road for this young man in the +practice of his profession in Chicago, if Dr. Lindsay, consulting surgeon +at St. Isidore's, St. Martha's, the Home for Incurables, the Institute for +Pulmonary Diseases, etc., could bring it about. + +Sommers hastily rifled certain pigeonholes of his desk, tossing the letters +into his little black bag, and seizing his hat hurried out. He stopped at +the clerk's desk to leave a direction for forwarding his mail. + +"Going away for a vacation?" Miss Clark queried. + +"Yes, for a good long one," the young surgeon answered. As the door slammed +behind him, the black-haired Miss Clark turned to the assistant +stenographer with a yawn. + +"He's got his travelling papers. I knew there was a fuss when I called him +to the 'phone. I guess he wasn't tony enough for this office." + +Sommers was now sinking down to the heated street, unmindful whether he was +"tony" enough for the Athenian Building or not. Mrs. Ducharme had whispered +over the telephone: "He's gone. Come quick. Mrs. Preston wants you bad." + +For an instant he asked himself if he had made a mistake when he had given +Preston the injection of morphine two days before. A glance at the little +instrument reassured him. Perhaps the woman meant merely that he had got +away again from the cottage. Why, then, such agitation over the creature's +disappearance? But _she_ wanted him "bad." He hurried into the torrid +street out of the cool, marble-lined hall, like a factory hand dismissed +from his job. It was the first break with the order of things he had grown +into. But he had no time for regrets. + +He crossed the deserted streets where the women usually shop, and turned +into the strip of park bordered by the Illinois Central tracks. Possibly a +train might be going out, under a heavy guard of deputy sheriffs, and in +that case he would save much time in reaching Ninety-first Street. +Exhilarated by his new freedom, he walked briskly, threading his way among +the groups of idle workmen who had gathered in the park. As he skirted a +large group, he recognized Dresser, who was shouting a declamatory speech. +The men received it apathetically, and Dresser got off the bench on which +he had stood and pushed his way through the crowd. + +"Well," Sommers said, as Dresser came by him. "How does the good work move? +You've got the courts down on you, and pretty soon there'll be the troops +to settle with. There's only one finish when the workingmen are led by a +man like Debs, and the capitalists have an association of general managers +as staff. Besides, your people have put the issue badly before the public. +The public understands now that it is a question of whether it, every one +of them, shall do what he wants to or not. And the general public says it +won't be held up in this pistol-in-your-face fashion. So Pullman and the +others get in behind the great public opinion, and there you are!" + +"All that newspaper talk about riot and destruction of property is a mass +of lies," Dresser exclaimed bitterly. "Which, way are you going? I will +walk along with you." + +As the two men proceeded in the direction of the big station, Dresser +continued: + +"I _know_ there isn't any violence from the strikers. It's the tough +element and the railroads. They're burning cars themselves so as to rouse +public opinion." + +Sommers laughed. + +"You don't believe it? I suppose you won't believe that the general +managers are offering us, the leaders, money,--money down and a lot of it, +to call the strike off." + +"Yes, I'll believe that; but you won't get any one to believe the other +thing. And you'd better take the money!" + +"We'll have every laboring man in Chicago out on a strike in a week," +Dresser added confidentially. "There hasn't been a car of beef shipped out +of the stock yards, or of cattle shipped in. I guess when the country +begins to feel hungry, it will know something's on here. The butchers +haven't a three days' supply left for the city. We'll _starve_ 'em +out!" + +Sommers knew there was some truth in this. The huge slaughter-houses that +fed a good part of the world were silent and empty, for lack of animal +material. The stock yards had nothing to fill their bloody maw, while +trains of cars of hogs and steers stood unswitched on the hundreds of +sidings about the city. The world would shortly feel this stoppage of its +Chicago beef and Armour pork, and the world would grumble and know for once +that Chicago fed it. Inside the city there was talk of a famine. The +condition was like that of the beleaguered city of the Middle Ages, +threatened with starvation while wheat and cattle rotted outside its grasp. +But the enemy was within its walls, either rioting up and down the iron +roadways, or sipping its cooling draughts and fanning itself with the +garish pages of the morning paper at some comfortable club. It was a war of +injunctions and court decrees. But the passions were the same as those that +set Paris flaming a century before, and it was a war with but one end: the +well-fed, well-equipped legions must always win. + +"They're too strong for you," Sommers said at last. "You will save a good +many people from a lot of misery, if you will sell out now quietly, and +prevent the shooting." + +"That's the cynicism of _your_ crowd." + +"You can't say my crowd any longer; they never were my crowd, I guess." + +"Have you been fired?" Dresser asked, with childish interest. + +"Not exactly, but I fancy Lindsay and I won't find each other's society +healthy in the future." + +"It isn't the same thing, though. Professional men like you can never get +very far from the rich. It isn't like losing your bread and butter." + +"Pretty much that, at present. And I think I shall get some distance from +the rich--perhaps go out farther west into some small town." +Dresser did not reply; he kept on with Sommers, as if to express his +sympathy over a misfortune. The court that led to the Park Row station was +full of people. Men wearing white ribbons were thickly sprinkled in the +crowd. The badge fluttered even from the broad breasts of the few apathetic +policemen. + +The crowd was kept off the tracks and the station premises by an iron +fence, defended by a few railway police and cowed deputy sheriffs. Every +now and then, however, a man climbed the ugly fence and dropped down on the +other side. Then he ran for the shelter of the long lines of cars standing +on the siding. A crew of men recruited from the office force of the +railroad was trying to make up a train. The rabble that had gained entrance +to the yards were blocking their movements by throwing switches at the +critical moment. As Sommers came up to the fence, the switching engine had +been thrown into the wrong siding, and had bunted up at full speed against +a milk car, sending the latter down the siding to the main track. It took +the switch at a sharp pace, was derailed, and blocked the track. The crowd +in the court gave a shout of delight. The switching engine had to be +abandoned. + +At this moment Sommers was jostled against a stylishly dressed woman, who +was trying to work her way through the seething mass that swayed up and +down the narrow court. He turned to apologize, and was amazed to see that +the young woman was Louise Hitchcock. She was frightened, but keeping her +head she was doing her best to gain the vestibule of a neighboring store. +She recognized Sommers and smiled in joyful relief. Then her glance passed +over Sommers to Dresser, who was sullenly standing with his hands in his +pockets, and ended in a polite stare, as if to say, 'Well, is that a +specimen of the people you prefer to my friends?' + +"You've got one of your crowd on your hands," Dresser muttered, and edged +off into the mob. + +"What are you doing here?" Sommers demanded, rather impatiently. + +"I drove down to meet papa. He was to come by the Michigan Central, and +Uncle Brome telephoned that the railroad people said the train would get +through. But he didn't come. I waited and waited, and at last tried to get +into the station to find out what had happened. I couldn't get through." + +Sommers had edged her into a protected corner formed by a large telephone +post. The jostling people stared impudently at the prettily dressed young +woman. To their eyes she betrayed herself at a glance as one of the +privileged, who used the banned Pullman cars. + +"Whar's your kerridge?" a woman called out over Sommers's shoulder. A man +pushed him rudely into his companion. + +"Why don't you take your private kyar?" + +"The road is good enough for _me_!" + +"Come," Sommers shouted in her ear, "we must get out of this at once. Take +my arm,--no, follow me,--that will attract less attention." + +The girl was quite at ease, now that this welcome friend had appeared +opportunely. Another prolonged shout, almost a howl of derision, went up by +the fence at some new trick played upon the frantic railroad officials. + +"What people!" the girl exclaimed scornfully. "Where are the police?" + +"Don't speak so loud," Sommers answered impatiently, "if you wish to escape +insult. There the police are, over there by the park. They don't seem +especially interested." + +The girl closed her lips tightly and followed Sommers. It was no easy task +to penetrate the hot, sweating mob that was packing into the court, and +bearing down toward the tracks where the fun was going on. Sommers made +three feet, then lost two. The crowd seemed especially anxious to keep them +back, and Miss Hitchcock was hustled and pushed roughly hither and thither +until she grasped Sommers's coat with trembling hands. A fleshy man, with a +dirty two weeks' beard on his tanned face, shoved Sommers back with a +brutal laugh. Sommers pushed him off. In a moment fists were up, the young +doctor's hat was knocked off, and some one threw a stone that he received +on his cheek. + +Sommers turned, grasped the girl with one arm, and threw himself and her +upon the more yielding corner of the press. Then he dragged his companion +for a few steps until the jam slackened at the open door of a saloon. Into +this the two were pushed by the eddying mob, and escaped. For a moment they +stood against the bar that protected the window. The saloon was full of +men, foul with tobacco smoke, and the floor was filthy. Flies sluggishly +buzzed about the pools of beer on the bar counter. The men were talking +excitedly; a few thin, ragged hangers-on were looting the free-lunch dishes +surreptitiously. Miss Hitchcock's face expressed her disgust, but she said +nothing. She had learned her lesson. + +"Wait here," Sommers ordered, "while I find out whether we can get out of +this by a back door." + +He spoke to the barkeeper, who lethargically jerked a thumb over his +shoulder. They elbowed their way across the room, Miss Hitchcock rather +ostentatiously drawing up her skirts and threading her way among the pools +of the dirty floor. The occupants of the bar-room, however, gave the +strangers only slight attention. The heavy atmosphere of smoke and beer, +heated to the boiling point by the afternoon sun, seemed to have soddened +their senses. Behind the bar the two found a passage to the alley in the +rear, which led by a cross alley into a deserted street. Finally they +emerged on the placid boulevard. + +"Your face is bleeding!" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed. "Are you hurt?" + +"No," Sommers answered, mopping his brow and settling his collar. "They +were good enough to spare the eye." + +"Brutes!" + +"I wouldn't say that," her companion interrupted sharply. "We are all +brutes each in our way," he added quietly. + +The girl's face reddened, and she dropped his arm, which was no longer +necessary for protection. She raised her crushed and soiled skirt, and +looked at it ruefully. + +"I wonder what has become of poor papa!" she exclaimed. "This strike has +caused him so much worry. I came in from Lake Forest to open the house for +him and stay with him until the trains begin to run again." + +She seemed to expect sympathy for the disagreeable circumstances that +persisted in upsetting the Hitchcock plans. But Sommers paid no attention +to this social demand, and they walked on briskly. Finally Miss Hitchcock +said coldly: + +"I can go home alone, now, if you have anything to do. Of course I should +like to have you come home and rest after this--" + +"I shall have to return to my room for a hat," Sommers replied, in a +matter-of-fact way. "I will leave you at your house." + +Miss Hitchcock insensibly drew herself up and walked more quickly. The +boulevard, usually gay with carriages in the late afternoon, was absolutely +deserted except for an occasional shop-boy on a bicycle. Sommers, hatless, +with a torn coat, walking beside a somewhat bedraggled young woman, could +arouse no comment from the darkened windows of the large houses. As they +passed Twenty-second Street, Miss Hitchcock slackened her pace and spoke +again. + +"You don't think _they_ are right, surely?" + +"No," the doctor replied absent-mindedly. He was thinking how he had been +delayed from going to Mrs. Preston's, and how strange was this promenade +down the fashionable boulevard where he had so often walked with Miss +Hitchcock on bright Sundays, bowing at every step to the gayly dressed +groups of acquaintances. He was taking the stroll for the last time, +something told him, on this hot, stifling July afternoon, between the rows +of deserted houses. In twenty-four hours he should be a part of _them_ +in all practical ways--a part of the struggling mob, that lived from day to +day, not knowing when the bread would give out, with no privileges, no +pleasant vacations, no agreeable houses to frequent, no dinner parties at +the close of a busy day. He was not sorry for the change, so far as he had +thought of it. At least he should escape the feeling of irritation, of +criticism, which Lindsay so much deplored, that had been growing ever since +he had left hospital work. The body social was diseased, and he could not +make any satisfactory diagnosis of the evil; but at least he should feel +better to have done with the privileged assertive classes, to have taken up +his part with the less Philistine, more pitiably blind mob. + +With the absolute character of his nature and the finality of youth, he saw +in a very decisive manner the plunge he was about to make. He was to leave +one life and enter another, just as much as if he should leave Chicago and +move to Calcutta--more so, indeed. He was to leave one set of people, and +all their ways, and start with life on the simplest, crudest base. He +should not call on his Chicago friends, who for the most part belonged to +one set, and after a word from Lindsay they would cease to bother him. He +would be out of place among the successful, and they would realize it as +well as he. But he should be sorry to lose sight of certain parts of this +life,--of this girl, for example, whom he had liked so much from the very +first, who had been so good to him, who was so sincere and honest and +personally attractive. + +Yet it was strange, the change in his feelings toward her brought about in +the few days that had elapsed since they had parted at Lake Forest. It was +so obvious today that they could never have come together. While he had +tried to do the things that she approved, he had been hot and restless, and +had never, for one moment, had the calm certainty, the exquisite fulness of +feeling that he had now--that the other woman had given him without a +single outspoken word. + +If things had gone differently these past months,--no, from his birth and +from hers, too,--if every circumstance of society had not conspired to put +them apart, who knows! They might have solved a riddle or two together and +been happy. But it was all foolish speculation now, and it was well that +their differences should be emphasized at this last chance meeting; that +she should be hostile to him. He summed the matter up thus, and, as if +answering her last remark, said: + +"_They_, my dear Miss Hitchcock, are wrong, and you are wrong, if we +can use pronouns so loosely. But I have come to feel that I had rather be +wrong with them than wrong with you. From to-day, when you speak of 'them,' +you can include me." + +And to correct any vagueness in his declaration, he added,-- + +"I have left Lindsay's shop, and shall never go back." + +He could feel that she caught her breath, but she said nothing. + +"I should never be successful in that way, though it wasn't for that reason +that I left." + +"Do you think you can do more for people by putting yourself--away, holding +off--" + +Her voice sank. + +"That is a subterfuge," Sommers answered hotly, "fit only for clergymen and +beggars for charities. I am not sure, anyway, that I want 'to do for' +people. I think no fine theories about social service and all that +settlement stuff. I want to be a man, and have a man's right to start with +the crowd at the scratch, not given a handicap. There are too many +handicaps in the crowd I have seen!" + +Miss Hitchcock pressed her lips together, as if to restrain a hot reply. +She had grown white from the fatigue and excitement and heat. They were +almost at her father's house, walking along the steaming asphalt of the +quiet avenue. A few old trees had been allowed to remain on these blocks, +and they drooped over the street, giving a pleasant shade to the broad +houses and the little patches of sward. Just around the corner were some +rickety wooden tenements, and a street so wretchedly paved that in the +great holes where the blocks had rotted out stood pools of filthy, rankly +smelling water. + +"I have merely decided to move around the corner," the young man remarked +grimly. + +Miss Hitchcock's lips trembled. She walked more slowly, and she tried to +say something, to make some ill-defined appeal. As she had almost found the +words, a carriage approached the Hitchcock house and drew up. Out of it +Colonel Hitchcock stepped heavily. His silk hat was crushed, and his +clothes were covered with dust. + +"Papa!" his daughter exclaimed, running forward anxiously. "What has +happened? Where have you been? Are you hurt?" + +"No, yes, I guess not," the old man laughed good-naturedly. "Howdy do, +doctor! They stopped the train out by Grand Crossing, and some fellows +began firing stones. It was pretty lively for a time. I thought you and +your mother would worry, so I got out of it the best way I could and came +in on the street cars." + +"Poor papa!" the girl exclaimed, seizing his arm. She glanced at Sommers +defiantly. Here was her argument. Sommers looked on coolly, not accepting +the challenge. + +"Won't you come in, doctor?" Colonel Hitchcock asked. "Do come in and +rest," his daughter added. + +But the young doctor shook his head. + +"I think I will go home and brush up--around the corner," he added with +slight irony. + +The girl turned to her father and took his arm, and they slowly walked up +the path to the big darkened house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Sommers did not go to his rooms, however. He could delay no longer reaching +Mrs. Preston. From the quiet decorous boulevard, with its clean asphalt +pavement and pleasant trees, he turned at once into the dirty cross street. +The oasis of the prosperous in the expanse of cheap houses and tawdry +flat-buildings was so small! It was easy, indeed, to step at least +physically from the one world to the other. + +At a little shop near the cable line he bought a hat and tie, and bathed +his face. Then he took the cable car, which connected with lines of +electric cars that radiated far out into the distant prairie. Along the +interminable avenue the cable train slowly jerked its way, grinding, +jarring, lurching, grating, shrieking--an infernal public chariot. Sommers +wondered what influence years of using this hideous machine would have upon +the nerves of the people. This car-load seemed quiescent and dull +enough--with the languor of unexpectant animals, who were accustomed to +being hauled mile by mile through the dirty avenues of life. His attention +was caught by the ever repeated phenomena of the squalid street. Block +after block, mile after mile, it was the same thing. No other city on the +globe could present quite this combination of tawdriness, slackness, dirt, +vulgarity, which was Cottage Grove Avenue. India, the Spanish-American +countries, might show something fouler as far as mere filth, but nothing so +incomparably mean and long. The brick blocks, of many shades of grimy red +and fawn color, thin as paper, cheap as dishonest contractor and bad labor +could make them, were bulging and lopping at every angle. Built by the half +mile for a day's smartness, they were going to pieces rapidly. Here was no +uniformity of cheapness, however, for every now and then little squat +cottages with mouldy earth plots broke the line of more pretentious +ugliness. The saloons, the shops, the sidewalks, were coated with soot and +ancient grime. From the cross streets savage gusts of the fierce west wind +dashed down the avenue and swirled the accumulated refuse into the car, +choking the passengers, and covering every object with a cloud of filth. +Once and again the car jolted across intersecting boulevards that presented +some relief in the way of green grass and large, heavy-fronted houses. +Except for these strips of parklike avenues, where the rich lived,--pieced +into the cheaper stuff of the city, as it were,--all was alike, +flat-building and house and store and wooden shanty,--a city of booths, of +extemporized shifts. + +Sommers picked up a newspaper that some passenger had thrown aside and +endeavored to distract his mind from the forlorn sight. The sheets were +gritty to the touch, and left a smutch upon the fingers. His clothes were +sifted over with dust and fine particles of manure. The seat grated beneath +his legs. The great headlines in the newspaper announced that the troops +were arriving. Columns of childish, reportorial prattle followed, +describing the martial bearing of the officers, the fierceness of the +"bronzed Indian fighters." The city was under martial law. He read also the +bickering telegrams exchanged between the state authorities and the +federal government, and interviews with leading citizens, praising the +much-vilified President for his firm act in upholding law and order. The +general managers were clever fellows! Sommers threw the grimy sheet aside. +It was right, this firm assertion of the law; but in what a cause, for what +people! + +He turned to the street once more. + +This block, through which the car was grinding its way, had a freakish +individuality in sidewalks. Each builder had had his own idea of what the +proper street level should be, and had laid his sidewalk accordingly. There +were at least six different levels in this one block. The same blunt +expression of wilful individuality was evident in every line of every +building. It was the apotheosis of democratic independence. This was not a +squalid district, nor a tough one. Goose Island, the stock yards, the +Bohemian district, the lumber yards, the factories,--all the aspects of the +city monstrous by right, were miles away. But Halsted Street, with its +picturesque mutations of poverty and its foreign air, was infinitely +worthier than this. Sommers shuddered to think how many miles of Cottage +Grove Avenue and its like Chicago contained,--not vicious, not squalid, +merely desolate and unforgivably vulgar. If it were properly paved and +cleaned, it would be bearable. But the selfish rich and the ignorant poor +make bad housekeepers. + +On, on they jolted and jarred, dropping along the cross streets a cargo of +indifferent souls, and taking in a new cargo of white-ribboned men, who +talked in loud voices or spat ruminatively over the floors. Sommers sank +back listless. It was well that he had taken this way of entering the new +life. To have galloped south through the cool parks would have been absurd, +like playing at charity. This was the life of the people,--not the +miserably poor, but the mean and small, the mass in this, our prosperous +country. Through the dirty, common avenues, without one touch of beauty, +they were destined to travel all their days, and he with them. + +He shut his eyes and thought of the woman to whom he was journeying. Hers +was the face he had seen in imagination in all his moods of revolt, of +disgust with the privileged. She was the figure, paramount, of those who +had soul enough to thirst for beauty, happiness, life, and to whom they +were denied. The machine of society whirled some aloft--the woman he had +just left--but it dragged her down. It was the machine that maddened him. +He was taking himself away from those who governed the machine, who ran it +and oiled it, and turned it to their own pleasures. He had chosen to be of +the multitude whom the machine ground. The brutal axioms of the economists +urged men to climb, to dominate, and held out as the noblest ideal of the +great commonwealth the right of every man to triumph over his brother. If +the world could not be run on any less brutal plan than this creed of +_success, success_, then let there be anarchy--anything. + +With a final groan the cable train came to a halt, and the hypnotic sleep +of the pilgrimage through Cottage Grove Avenue ended. Sommers started +up--alert, anxious, eager to see _her_ once more, the glow of +enchantment, of love renewed in his soul. Yet at the very end of his +journey he was fearful for the first time. How could they meet, after the +foul scene with Preston? + +Mrs. Ducharme opened the cottage door, and recognizing the young doctor in +the twilight sighed with relief. Her placid countenance was ruffled. + +"Where is Mrs. Preston?" he demanded hastily. + +"She's gone out for a moment. I made her take a turn." + +"How is Mr. Preston?" + +Mrs. Ducharme's face assumed a frightened expression. She spoke in low +tones, as if the patient might still overhear. + +"He's rested for good, poor man! He won't want no more liquor this life, I +guess." Then more solemnly she ended, "He's at peace." + +Without further words Sommers went upstairs. The outer door was unbarred, +and the door into the room open. Preston was lying, clean and quiet, in a +clean bed with a fresh counterpane. His face was turned to one side, as if +he were sleeping. His eyes were suspiciously reddened under the lids, and +his cheeks had rather more bloat than the doctor remembered. He was dead, +sure enough, at peace at last, and the special cause for the ending was of +little importance. Sommers proceeded to make an examination, however; he +would have to sign a certificate for the health officers. As he bent over +the inert form, he had a feeling of commiseration rather than of relief. +Worthless clay that the man was, it seemed petty now to have been so +disturbed over his living on, for such satisfactions as his poor fragment +of life gave him. Like the insignificant insect which preyed on its own +petty world, he had, maybe, his rights to his prey. At all events, now that +he had ceased to trouble, it was foolish to have any feeling of disgust, of +reproach, of hatred. God and life had made him so, as God and life had made +the mighty.... + +Suddenly the doctor's eye detected something that arrested his attention, +and he proceeded to look at the dead man more carefully. Then he started +back and called out to the woman below. When she came panting up the +stairs, he asked sternly: + +"Was he given anything?" + +"What?" she asked, retreating from the room. + +"Any medicine?" the doctor pursued, eying her sharply. + +"He was took bad last night, and Mrs. Preston went to see what was the +matter. She might have given him somethin' to rest him. I dunno." + +The doctor went back to the dead man and examined him again; the woman +crawled away. Again Sommers abandoned his task, nervously twitching the +bedclothes over the cold form. He went to the window and opened it, and +stood breathing the night air. There was another step upon the stair, and +Sommers turned. It was Mrs. Preston. She started on seeing the doctor, and +he noticed how pale her face appeared, even in the darkening room. He was +also conscious of the start she had given. + +"I have looked for you so long!" she exclaimed eagerly, hastening toward +him, and then stopping in embarrassment. + +"I was detained, hindered in every possible way," the doctor replied. His +tone was chilling, preoccupied. + +"He was ill last night, but I thought nothing of it. When I returned from +an errand this noon, he had fallen into a kind of stupor--last night he was +so excited--and I was alarmed. I had Mrs. Ducharme telephone for you then. +He did not come out of his stupor," she added in a low tone. + +Sommers stepped back to the bedside. "Did you--" he began involuntarily, +but he left his sentence unfinished, and turned away again. + +"I have completed my examination," he said at last. "Let us go downstairs." + +When they had reached the sitting room, Mrs. Preston lighted a lamp and +placed it on the table beside the doctor. The strong light increased the +pallor of her face. Sommers noticed that the eyes were sunken and had black +circles. His glance rested on her hands, as she leaned with folded arms on +the table. They were white and wan like the face. The blood seemed to have +left her body. + +Sommers raised his eyes and looked at her face. She returned his glance for +a moment, then flushes of color spread over her face and died down, and she +dropped her face. He laid his hand softly upon hers, and spoke her name for +the first time, "Alves." A tear dropped on his hand beneath the lamp, then +another and another. He started up from his seat and strode to the window, +keeping his back turned to the quiescent woman. It was terrible! He knew +that he was a fool, but none the less something awesome, cruel, forbidding, +tainted the atmosphere. + +At last he said in a dull voice: + +"Mrs. Preston, will you get me pen and ink. I must fill out the usual +certificate, stating the disease that caused death," he added meaningly, +wheeling about. + +She started, stung by his formal words, and fetched writing materials. As +he wrote out the certificate, she went into the next room. When she +returned, Sommers got up and crossed toward her, impelled by an +irresistible desire _to know_. + +"I have said that death was due to congestion of the brain, indirectly +resulting from illness and operation for the removal of a bullet." + +Mrs. Preston stared at him, her face curiously blank, as though to say, +'Why are you so cruel?' He offered her the wisp of paper. + +"Put it there!" she cried, motioning to the mantelpiece. + +The doctor placed the certificate on the mantel, and then returned to his +chair by the lamp. + +"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked abruptly. + +"I have done--the necessary things--he will be buried to-morrow afternoon." + +Her words came with an effort, as if every voluntary act caused her pain. + +"I am sorry that I did not come earlier, to save you these tasks," the +doctor answered more gently. "Isn't there some one you would like to send +for, some relative or friend?" + +She shook her head, looking at him with beseeching eyes. Then they were +silent, until the silence was too much to be borne. Sommers rose hastily to +take leave. + +"I can do nothing more to-night," he said hastily. "I shall come +to-morrow." + +She made no reply and did not rise. Outside, the place seemed so deadly +still! The house was dark; the neighboring avenue, unusually deserted. +Sommers shivered. After he had reached the end of the lane, he turned back, +and walked swiftly to the cottage. At the corner he looked into the room +where they had been sitting. She was still in the same place where he had +left her, by the lamp, her white, almost stern face, with its large, severe +lines, staring fiercely into space. It made him uneasy, this long, tense +look that betrayed a mind fixed upon one idea, and that idea! He crept away +into the lane to flee from it, and walked swiftly down the cross street +toward the lake. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +"It could not be!" he muttered, as he stumbled on in the dark. He was +oversuspicious. But how else could the facts be explained? Such deaths, he +knew, did not occur to men in Preston's condition,--calm, easy deaths, +without the agony of convulsion. _No_, it _must be_. Science was +stronger than desire, than character, than human imagination. To disbelieve +his scientific knowledge would be to deny the axioms of life. + +And why should it not be? Was it not what he had reproached himself for not +doing, and reproached his medical brethren as cowards for not daring to do +in so many cases? The horror of it, the uncanniness of it, thus stopping +the human animal's course as one would stop an ill-regulated watch, had +never appealed to him before. "Prejudice!" he cried aloud. His involuntary +drawing back was but an unconscious result of the false training of +centuries. As a doctor, familiar with death, cherishing no illusions about +the value of the human body, he should not act like a nervous woman, and +run away! How brutal he had been to her! + +His mind passed on, traversing vast areas of speculation by a kind of +cerebral shorthand. What would be the result upon humanity if all doctors +took this liberty of decision? Where could you draw the distinction between +murder and medicine? Was science advanced enough as yet to say any certain +thing about the human body and mind? There were always mysterious +exceptions which might well make any doctor doubtful of drastic measures. +And the value of human life, so cheap here in this thirsty million of +souls, cheap in the hospitals; but really, essentially, at the bottom of +things, who knew how cheap it was? + +Thus for an hour or more his mind was let loose among the tenebra of life, +while his feet pushed on mechanically over the dusty roads that skirted the +lake. He had nowhere to go, now that he had broken with the routine of +life, and he gave himself up to the unaccustomed debauch of willess +thinking. He was conscious at length of traversing the vacant waste where +the service-buildings of the Fair had stood. Beyond were the shattered +walls of the little convent, wrapped in the soft summer night. There they +had sat together and watched the fire die out, while she told her story, +and he listened in love. + +The real thing--was the woman. This thought stung him like a reproach of +cowardice. He had forgotten her! And she was but the instrument in the +deed, for he had taught her that this care of a worthless life was +sentimental, hysterical. He had urged her to put it away in some easy +fashion, to hide it at least, in some sort of an asylum. That she had +steadfastly refused to do. Better death outright, she had said. And that +which he had feared to undertake, she had done, fearlessly. He had +recoiled; it made him tremble to think of her in that act. What cowardice! +These were the consequences of his teaching, of his belief. + +What had made her take this resolution so suddenly? There was time, all the +time in the world, and having once neglected the thing at the very start, +it was curious that she should now, at this late date, make her desperate +resolve. Preston had not been worse, more difficult to handle. In fact, +when the two women had grown used to his case, the management had been +simple enough. He had thought she was inured to the disgust and the +horror--placid almost, and taking the thing like one accustomed to pain. +What was the cause of her revolt from her burden? Those filthy words the +night they had come back late, when the fellow had stolen downstairs and +spied upon them at their coffee. Had the shame of it before him stung her +past enduring? Had it eaten into her mind and inflamed her? + +But his feverish imagination was not content with this illumination of the +facts. Something more lay behind it all. He sat down beside a prostrate +column to penetrate the gloom. As he gazed before him into the dark +heavens, the blast furnace winked like an evil eye, then silently belched +flame and smoke, then relapsed into its seething self. The monster's breath +illumined the dusky sky for a few moments. Blackness then fell over all for +two minutes, and again the beast reappeared. Far away to the west came +through the night a faint roar, like the raving of men. There was a line of +light against the horizon: the mob was burning freight cars. Soon the +bonfire died down. The cries sounded more and more faintly, and more +distinctly came the sharp reports of revolvers or military rifles. The law +had taken a hand in the game. + +It was a night like this when the first glow of joy had suffused his life; +and then had come that night, that wonderful night, which began, in the +lurid fire, and ended foully with Preston's words. Here was the key: she +too loved, as he had, and this feeling which had drawn them together from +the very moment when he had looked from the helpless form on the hospital +chair to her had grown, surging up in her heart as in his--until, until she +had taken this last stern step, and had-- + +He had begun to walk once more, heading south, retracing his steps by the +most direct line. To leave her thus, with all the horror; thus when she had +reached out to him--oh, the shame, the brutality of it! He hastened his +steps almost to a run. Perhaps it was already too late; his cold, hard +manner had killed her love, crushed her, and she had gone on to the next +step. The night was cold now, but his hands were damp with a feverish +sweat. How blind, not to have read at once, as she would have done, the +whole deed! What she had done, she had done for him, for both, and he had +left her to carry the full burden alone. Like a boy, he had wavered at the +sight of what she had accomplished so swiftly, so competently, for +_their_ sake. To love shamefully, that was not in her, and she had put +the cause of shame away. As he hurried on southwards, his thoughts flew out +on this new track. She had made the way clear; he must go to her, take her, +accept her acts with her love. They were one now. + +It was late, past midnight, when he reached the long cross street that led +to the lane of the cottage, and the buzz of the passing cars no longer +disturbed the hoarse chorus of frogs. Sommers crept up the lane stealthily +to the dark cottage, afraid for what he might find, chilled by the +forbidding aspect of the place. Instead of entering the door, he paused by +the open window and peered in. Within the gloom of the room he could make +out her bent figure, her head fallen forward over her arms. She was sitting +where he had left her, but the spell of her tense gaze had broken. She had +laid her head upon the table to weep, and had not raised it all these +hours. The night wind soughed into the room through the open window, +drifting a piece of paper about the floor, poking into the gloom of the +interior beyond. + +Sommers noiselessly pushed open the door and entered the room. The bent +figure did not heed the tread of his steps. He stood over her, knelt down, +and wrapped her in his arms. + +"Alves!" he whispered. + +She roused herself as from a dream and turned her face to his, wonderingly. + +"Alves," he stammered, reading eagerly the sombre lines of her face, "I +have come back--for always." + +Then she spoke, and her voice had a mechanical ring, as if for a long time +it had not been used. + +"But you left me--why did you come back?" + +"You know," he answered, his feverish face close to her white forehead. +"You know!" The face was so cold, so large and sombre, that it seemed to +chill his fever. + +"I have come to share--to have you, because I love, because we loved--from +the first, all through." + +At his slow, trembling words, the woman's face filled with the warm blood +of returning life. Her flesh paled and flushed, and her eyes lit slowly +with passion; her arms that had rested limply on the table took life once +more and grasped him. The feeling sweeping into her lifeless body thrilled +him like fire. She was another woman--he had never known her until this +communicating clasp. + +"You love me?" she asked, with a moan of inarticulate abandonment. + +"Love you, love you, love you, Alves," he repeated in savage iteration. +"Now,--" he kissed her lips. They were no longer cold. "You are mine, mine, +do you understand? Nothing shall touch you. _That_ has passed!" + +For a moment she looked at him in question. But instantly her face smiled +in content, and she flashed back his passion. She kissed him, drawing him +down closer and closer into her warm self. + +With this long kiss a new love put forth its strength, not the pale +beatitude of his dream, with its sweet wistfulness, its shy desires. That +was large and vague and insubstantial, permeating like an odor the humdrum +purlieus of the day. This was savage, triumphant, that leaped like flame +from his heart to his mouth, that burned blood-red on the black night. It +swept away hesitation, a sick man's nicety and doubts, all the prejudices +of all times! This was love, unchained, that came like waters from the +mountains to quench the thirst of blazing deserts: parched, dry, in dust; +now slaked and yet ever thirsty. + +"How could it have been otherwise," he murmured, more to himself than to +her. + +"What?" she asked, startled, withdrawing herself. + +"Don't think, don't think!" he exclaimed, in fear of the ebbing of the +waters. + +Her doubts were calmed, and she yielded to his insistence, slipping into +his arms with an unintelligible cry, the satisfied note of desire. For all +the waiting of the empty years came this rich payment--love that satisfied, +that could never be satisfied. + + * * * * * + +In the first light of the morning the Ducharme woman, creeping from her +room in the rear, caught sight of them. Mrs. Preston's head was lying on +the doctor's arm, while he knelt beside the table, watching her pale face +in its undisturbed sleep. At the footfall, he roused her gently. Mrs. +Ducharme hastily drew back. She, too, did not seem to have passed a +peaceful night. Her flabby fat face was sickly white, and she trembled as +she opened the side door to the hot morning sun. She threw some small thing +into the waste by the door; then looking around to see that she was not +observed, she hurled with all her strength a long bottle toward the swamp +across the fence. The bottle fell short of the swamp, but it sank among the +reeds and the fleurs-de-lys of the margin. Then the woman closed the door +softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +That morning Sommers returned to the city. Mrs. Preston had asked him to +notify Dr. Leonard and Miss M'Gann, the only friends she had in Chicago, +that the funeral would take place late in the afternoon. In the elevator of +the Athenian Building, Sommers met Dr. Lindsay with Dr. Rupert, the oldest +member of the office staff. The two men bowed and edged their backs toward +Sommers. He was already being forgotten. When the elevator cage discharged +its load on the top floor, Rupert, who was popularly held to be a genial +man, lingered behind his colleague, and tried to say something to the young +doctor. + +"Private practice?" he asked sympathetically, "or will you try hospital +work again?" + +"I haven't thought anything about it," Sommers replied truthfully. + +Rupert, a man of useful, mediocre ability, eyed the younger man with +curiosity, thinking that doubtless he had private means; that it was a pity +he and Lindsay had fallen out, for he was a good fellow and clever. + +"Well--glad to see you. Drop in occasionally--if you stay in Chicago." + +The last phrase stung Sommers. It seemed to take for granted that there +could be nothing professionally to keep him in Chicago after the fiasco of +his introduction. He would have to learn how much a man's future depended +upon the opinion of men whose opinion he despised. + +Dr. Leonard came out of his den, where he was filling a tooth. His +spectacles were pushed up over his shaggy brows, and little particles of +gold and of ground bone clung untidily to the folds of his crumpled linen +jacket. His patients did not belong to the class that is exacting about +small things. + +"So the feller has taken himself off for good," he observed, after +listening to the doctor's brief statement. "That's first-rate, couldn't be +better for Alves." + +Sommers started at the familiar use of the first name. "She's never had a +show. Preston wasn't much except as a looker. The first time she came in +here I could see how things stood. But you couldn't budge her from +him--jest like a woman--she loved him." + +Sommers must have shown some irritation, for Dr. Leonard, watching him +closely, repeated: + +"Yes! she loved _him_, would have him back, though I argued with her +against it. Well, I'm glad it's settled up now so clever. Of course I'll be +out to the funeral. Alves ain't got any folks near connected, and +Preston--well, it's no use harboring hard thoughts about dead folks. +They'll have to settle with some one else, won't they?" + +From the Athenian Building Sommers went to an ambitious boarding-house that +called itself a hotel, where Miss M'Gann boarded. A dirty negro boy opened +the door, and with his duster indicated the reception room. Miss M'Gann +came down, wearing a costume of early morning relaxation. She listened to +the news with the usual feminine feeling for decorum, compounded of +curiosity, conventional respect for the dead, and speculation for the +future. + +"Poor Mrs. Preston! I'll go right down and see her. I've been thinking for +a week that I'd take a run on my bike down that way. But things have been +so queer, you know, that I didn't feel--you understand?" + +The doctor nodded and rose to go. Miss M'Gann's note was more jarring than +the kindly old dentist's. + +"Oh, you aren't going!" Miss M'Gann protested regretfully. "I want to ask +so many questions. I am _so_ glad to see you. I feel that I know you +_very_ well. Mr. Dresser, your intimate friend, has spoken to me about +you. Such an interesting man, a little erratic, like a genius, you know." + +As Sommers remained stiffly mute, Miss M'Gann's remarks died away. + +"There is nothing more to tell," he said, getting up. "Of course Mrs. +Preston has had a very serious strain, and I,--her friends,--must see that +she has rest." + +"Sure," Miss M'Gann broke in warmly; "now a lot of us girls are going up to +Plum Lake, Michigan, for four weeks. It would be good for her to be with a +nice party--" + +"We will see," the doctor said coldly. + +Later Miss M'Gann said to one of her friends: "Talkin' to him is like +rubbing noses with an iceberg. He's one of your regular freeze-you-up, +top-notchy eastern swells." + +"Perhaps it would be well if Mrs. Preston came here to stay with you for a +few days. I will ask her," Sommers suggested, as he shook hands. + +"Certainly," Miss M'Gann replied warmly, "first-class house, good society, +reasonable rates, and all that." + +But the doctor was bowing himself out. + +'He's taking some interest in the fair widow's welfare,' Miss M'Gann +commented, as she watched him from behind the hall-door curtain. 'I hope he +won't get the d. t.'s like number one, and live off her. Think she'd have +had warning to wait a reasonable time.' + +Meantime Sommers was musing over the "breezy" and "lively" Miss M'Gann, +who, he judged, contributed much to the gayety of the Keystone Hotel. He +had been hasty in suggesting that Alves might find a refuge in the +Keystone. It would be for a few days, however, for he planned--he was +rather vague about what he had planned. He wondered if there would be much +of Miss M'Gann in the future, their future, and he longed to get away, to +take Alves and fly. + +He was tired; the sun was relentless. But he must make arrangements to sell +his horse as soon as possible, and to give up his rooms. For the first time +in his life he was conscious that he wanted to talk with a man, to see some +friend. But of all the young professional men he had met in Chicago, there +was not one he could think of approaching. On his way to his rooms he +passed the Lake Front Park, where some companies of troops were encamped. +Tents were flapping in the breeze, a Gatling gun had been placed, and +sentries mounted. The bronzed young soldiers brought in from the plains +were lounging about, watching the boulevard, and peering up at the massive +walls of the Auditorium. The street was choked with curious spectators, +among whom were many strikers. The crowd gaped and commented. + +"They'll _shoot_," one of the onlookers said almost proudly. "There +ain't no use in foolin' with the reg'lars. Those fellows'd pop you or me as +soon as a jack-rabbit or a greasy Injun." + +The sinewy sentry shifted his gun and tramped off, his blue eyes marvelling +at the unaccustomed sights of the great city, all the panoply of the +civilization that he was hired to protect. + +The city was under martial law, but it did not seem to mind it. The +soldiers had had a few scuffles with rowdies at Blue Island and the stock +yards. They had chased the toughs in and out among the long lines of +freight cars, and fired a few shots. Even the newspapers couldn't magnify +the desultory lawlessness into organized rebellion. It was becoming a +matter of the courts now. The general managers had imported workmen from +the East. The leaders of the strike--especially Debs and Howard--were +giving out more and more incendiary, hysterical utterances. All workingmen +were to be called out on a general strike; every man that had a trade was +to take part in a "death struggle." But Sommers could see the signs of a +speedy collapse. In a few days the strong would master the situation; then +would follow a wrangle in the courts, and the fatal "black list" would +appear. The revenge of the railroads would be long and sure. + +Sommers went to his rooms and sought to get some rest before the time set +for the funeral. The driving west wind, heated as by a furnace in its mad +rush over the parched prairies, fevered rather than cooled him. His mind +began to revolve about the dead man, lying with heavy, red-lidded eyes in +the cottage. Was it,--was it murder? He put the thought aside laboriously, +only to be besieged afresh, to wonder, to argue, to protest. After three +hours of this he dressed and took the cable car for the cottage. He might +find some pretext to examine the dead man again before the others came. + +At the cottage gate, however, he overtook the good dentist, bearing a large +florist's box. Miss M'Gann was already within the little front room, and +Alves was talking in low tones with a sallow youth in a clerical coat. At +the sight of the newcomers the clergyman withdrew to put on his robes. Dr. +Leonard, having surrendered the pasteboard box to Miss M'Gann, grasped Mrs. +Preston's hand. + +"Alves," he began, and stopped. Even he could feel that the commonplaces of +the occasion were not in order. "Alves, you know how mighty fond of you I +am." + +She smiled tranquilly. Her air of calm reserve mystified the watchful young +doctor. The clergyman returned, followed by Mrs. Ducharme and Anna Svenson. +The Ducharme woman's black dress intensified the pallor of her flabby face. +Her hands twitched nervously over the prayer-book that she held. Subject to +apoplexy, Sommers judged; but his thoughts passed over her as well as Miss +M'Gann, who stood with downcast eyes ostentatiously close to Mrs. Preston, +and the grave old dentist standing at the foot of the coffin, and the +clergyman whose young voice had not lost its thrill of awe in the presence +of death. He had no eyes for aught but the woman, who was bound to him by +firmer ties than those whose dissolution the clergyman was recording. She +stood serene, with head raised above theirs, revealing a face that sadness +had made serious, grave, mature, but not sad. She displayed no affected +sorrow, no nervous tremor, no stress of a reproachful mind. Unconscious of +the others, even of the minister's solemn phrases, she seemed to be +revolving truths of her own, dismissing a problem private to her own heart. +To the man who tried to pierce beneath that calm gaze, the woman's complete +control was terrible. + +The minister's grave voice went on, pronouncing the grave sentences of the +service. The ceremonial words sounded all the more fateful said over this +poor body. The little of life that he had had,--the eating and drinking in +restaurants and hotels, the chaffing and trading with his own kind, the +crude appeasements of crude desires,--all these were taken away, and thus +stripped it was easy to see how small was his responsibility in the matter +of life. He had crushed and injured this other human being, his wife, to +whom he had come nearest, just as a dirty hand might soil and crumple a +fine fabric. But she no longer reproached him, if she ever had; she +understood the sad complexity of a fate that had brought into the hand the +fabric to be tarnished. And what she could accept, others must, the world +must, to whom the Prestons are but annoyances and removable blemishes. + +Sommers felt the deaconlike attitude of the dentist, the conventional +solemnity of the schoolteacher and of the immobile Swede, the shaking, +quavering terror of Mrs. Ducharme, mumbling to herself the words of the +service. Why should the old woman be so upset, he wondered. But his vagrant +thoughts always came back to the woman near the coffin, the woman he loved. +How could she summon up such peace! Was hers one of those mighty souls that +never doubted? That steadfast gaze chilled his heart. + +"The resurrection of the dead." Her glance fell, and for one swift moment +rested on the dead man. She was debating those noble words, and denying +their hope to _him_, to such as were dead in this life. Then once more +her glance rose and fell upon Sommers, and swiftly it effaced his doubts. + +She was so beautiful, a woman in the full tide of human experience! And the +night before she had been so simple and tender and passionate. He felt her +arms about his heart, teaching him how to live. This moment, this careful +putting away of the past must be over soon, in a few hours; whereupon he +and she would cast it out of their hearts as they would leave this gloomy +cottage and waste marshes. He would not think of the body there and its +death, of anything but her. How exquisite would be this triumph, over her +baulked, defeated past! 'Alves, Alves,' he murmured in his heart, 'only you +who have suffered can love.' It seemed that an answering wave of color +swept over her pale face. + + * * * * * + +There was a movement. The service was ended. The burial was the only thing +that remained to be done. Sommers went to the cemetery with the minister +and Dr. Leonard. He did not wish to be with Alves until they could be +alone. The grave was in the half-finished cemetery beside the Cottage Grove +cable line, among the newest lots. It was a fit place for Preston, this bit +of sandy prairie in the incomplete city. The man who came and went from +town to town, knowing chiefly the hotel and the railroad station, might +well rest here, within call of the hoarse locomotives gliding restlessly to +and fro. + +As the little company retraced their steps from the grave, Alves spoke to +Sommers for the first time. + +"You will come back with me?" she asked. + +"Not now," he answered hastily, instinctively. "I must go back to town. The +others will be there. Not to-day." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +At the gate of the cemetery he fled from the little company. Dr. Leonard +wanted to return to the city with him, but he shook off the talkative +dentist. He must escape all sense of participation in the affair. So he +made the long journey in the cable train, thinking disconnectedly in unison +with the banging, jolting, grinding of the car. The panorama of his one +short year in Chicago rose bit by bit into his mind: the hospital, the +rich, bizarre town, the society of thirsty, struggling souls, always +rushing madly hither and thither, his love for the woman he had just left, +and this final distracting event. + +What if she had doubled the dose of the anodyne? Probably the fellow was +abusive. It might have been some shameful extremity that had forced upon +her this act in self-defence. But such a situation would have called for +violence, some swift blow. The man had died in insidious calm. He had +counselled it, believed in it. But not that _she_--the woman he +loved--should be brave with that desperate courage. Yet it was over now, +beyond sight and thought, and he loved her--yes, loved her more than if it +had not been so. + +Once in town, he felt intolerably lonely, as a busy man who has had his +round of little duties in a busy world soon comes to feel when any jar has +put him out of his usual course. As he sauntered among the strange faces of +the city streets, looking out for a familiar being, he began to realize how +completely he had cut himself off from the ordinary routine of life. He was +as much a stranger as if he had been dropped into the bustling crowd for +the first time. He had sat in judgment, and the world would give a fig for +his judgments. A week ago he might have taken refuge in a dozen houses. +To-night he stood upon street corners and wistfully eyed the passing +stream. + +He walked to the river aimlessly, and then walked back, examining the blank +faces of the people. He spied through the lowered window of a carriage +Brome Porter and Carson, going in the direction of the Northwestern +station. The carriage skirted the curb near him, but the occupants were +looking the other way. He recalled that Carson had been induced to leave +the famous portrait on exhibition at the Art Institute. Whenever in the +future he might care to refresh his mind with the vision of this epitome of +success, he had but to drop into the dusky building on the lake front and +have it all--with the comment of the great artist. + +As he moved on his restless course, he thought of Porter and Carson, of +Polot, and then of many others, whose faces came out of the memories of the +past year. How many of them were "good fellows," human and kind and strong! +They fought the world's fight, and fought it fairly. Could more be expected +of man? Could he be made to curb his passion for gain, to efface himself, +to refuse to take what his strong right hand had the power to grasp? +Perhaps the world was arranged merely to get the best out of strong +animals. + +He turned into a restaurant, where usually he could find a dozen people of +his acquaintance in the prosperous world. The place was crowded, but he +spied no one he had ever seen. Evidently the people who knew how to make +themselves comfortable had contrived to get out of this besieged city. They +were at the various country clubs, at Wheaton, Lake Forest, Lake Geneva, +Oconomowoc, keeping cool, while the general managers, the strikers, and the +troops fought out their differences. The menu was curtailed this evening. + +"'Twon't be long, sir," the waiter explained, "'fore we'll have to kill +them cab horses as they done in Paris. Game and fruit and milk can't be +had." + +But for the present the food was not of the famine order, and the noisy +crowd eat joyously, as if sure of enough, somehow, as long as they needed +it and had the money to pay. As Sommers was idling over his coffee, Swift, +a young fellow whom he had seen at the University Club, a college man +connected with one of the papers, sat down at his table, and chatted +busily. + +"They telephoned from the stock yards that there was a big mob down there," +he told Sommers. "I thought I'd go over and see if I couldn't get an extra +story out of it. Want to come along? It's about the last round of the +fight. The managers have got five thousand new men here already or on the +way. That will be the knock-out," he chatted briskly. + +Sommers drifted along to the scene of the riot with the reporter, happier +in finding himself with some one, no matter who he might be. Swift talked +about the prospects of ending the strike. He regarded it as a reportorial +feast, and had natural regrets that such good material for lurid paragraphs +was to be cut off. As they passed through the Levee, he nodded to the +proprietors of the "places," with ostentatious familiarity. From the Levee +they took an electric car, which was crowded with officers and deputies +bound for the stock yards. The long thoroughfare lined with rotting wooden +houses and squalid brick saloons was alive with people that swarmed over +the roadbed like insects. A sweltering, fetid air veiled the distances. +Like a filthy kettle, the place stewed in its heat and dirt. Here lived the +men who had engaged in the foolish fight! + +At a cross street the officers dropped off the car, and Swift and Sommers +followed them. + +"Where's the fun?" the reporter asked the sergeant. + +The officer pointed languidly toward a tangle of railroad tracks at one end +of the vast enclosure of the stock yards. They trudged on among the lines +of deserted cars in the fading glare of the July heat. The broad sides of +the packing houses, the lofty chimneys surrounded by thin grayish clouds, +the great warehouses of this slaughter yard of the world, drew nearer. All +at once a roar burst on their ears, and they came out from behind a line of +cars upon a stretch of track where a handful of soldiers were engaged in +pressing back a rabble of boys, women, and men. The rabble were teasing the +soldiers, as a mob of boys might tease a cat. Suddenly, as the officers and +deputies appeared, some one hurled a stone. In a moment the air was thick +with missiles, revolver shots followed, and then the handful of soldiers +formed in line with fixed bayonets. + +Sommers heard in the midst of all the roar the piteous bellowing of cattle, +penned up in the cars. He saw a dark form stealing around the end of a car; +in a moment a light spurted out as if a match had been touched to kerosene; +there was a gleam of light, and the stock-car with its load of cattle was +wrapped in flames. The dark figure disappeared among the cars; Sommers +followed it. The chase was long and hot. From time to time the fleeing man +dodged behind a car, applied his torch, and hurried on. At last Sommers +overtook him, kneeling down beside a box car, and pouring oil upon a bunch +of rags. Sommers kicked the can out of reach and seized the man by the +collar. They struggled in the dark for a few moments. Then the man put his +hand to his pocket, saying,-- + +"I suppose you're a damned, sneaking deputy." + +"Hold on, you drunken fool!" Sommers exclaimed. "It's lucky for you I am +not a deputy." + +He could hear the mob as it came down the yards in the direction of the +burning cars. + +"If you don't want to be locked up, come on with me." + +The fellow obeyed, and they walked down through the lane of cars until they +reached a fence. Sommers forced his companion through a gap, and followed +him. Then the man began to run, and at the corner ran into a file of +soldiers, who were coming into the yards. Sommers turned up the street and +walked rapidly in the direction of the city. The first drops of a +thunder-shower that had been lowering over the city for hours were falling, +and they brought a pleasant coolness into the sultry atmosphere. That was +the end! The "riot" would be drowned out in half an hour. + +The sense of overwhelming loneliness came back, and instinctively he turned +south in the direction of the cottage. From the loneliness of life, the +sultry squalor of the city, the abortive folly of the mob, he fled to the +one place that was still sweet in all this wilderness of men. + + * * * * * + +The cottage windows were dark when he arrived an hour later, but Alves met +him at the door. + +"I have been waiting for you," she said calmly. "I knew you would come as +soon as you could." + +"Didn't Miss M'Gann stay?" he asked remorsefully. + +"I sent her away with Dr. Leonard. And our old Ducharme has gone out to one +of her doctor's services. She is getting queerer and queerer, but such a +good soul! What should I have done without her! You sent her to me," she +added tenderly. + +They sat down by the open window within sound of the gentle, healing rain. +Sommers noticed that Alves had changed her dress from the black gown she +had worn in the afternoon to a colored summer dress. The room had been +rearranged, and all signs of the afternoon scene removed. It was as if she +willed to obliterate the past at once. How fast she lived! + +Her manner was peaceful. She sat resting her head against a high-backed +chair, and her arms, bare from the elbow, fell limply by her side. She +seemed tired, merely, and content to rest in the sense of sweet relief. + +"Alves," he cried, taking one of her hands and pressing the soft flesh in +his grip, "I could not stay away. I meant to--I did not mean to meet you +again here--but it was too lonely, too desolate everywhere." + +"Why not here and at once?" she asked, with a shade of wonder in her voice. +"Haven't we had all the sorrow here? And why should we put off our joy? It +is so great to be happy to the full for once." + +The very words seemed to have a savor for her. + +"Are you happy?" he asked curiously. + +"Why not! It's as if all that I could ever dream while I walked the hot +streets had come to me. It has come so fast that I cannot quite feel it +all. Some joy is standing outside, waiting its turn." + +Smilingly she turned her face to his for response. + +"What shall you do?" he asked. + +"Do? I can't think _now_. There is so much time to think of that." + +"But you can't stay here!" he exclaimed, with undue agitation. + +"Not if you dislike it. But I feel differently. I found this refuge, and it +served me well. I have no need to leave it." + +Sommers let her hand fall from his clasp, and rose to his feet. + +"You must! You cannot stay here after--" + +"As you wish. We will go away." + +"But until we are married?" + +"Married?" she repeated questioningly. "I hadn't thought of that." + +After a moment she said hesitatingly: + +"Do we have to be married? I mean have the ceremony, the oath, the rest of +it? I have been married. Now I want--love." + +"Why, it is only natural--" the man protested. + +"No, no, it is not natural. It may kill all this precious love. You may +come to hate me as I hated him, and then, then? No," she continued +passionately. "Let us not make a ceremony of this. It would be like the +other, and I should feel it so always. We will have love, just love, and +live so that it makes no difference. You cannot understand!" + +Sommers knelt beside her chair. + +"Love, love," he repeated. "You shall have it, Alves, as you will--the +delirium of love!" + +"That is right," she whispered, trembling at his touch. "Talk to me like +that. Only more, more. Make my ears ring with it. Your words are so weak!" + +"There are no words." + +"No, there is not one perfect one in all the thousands!" she uttered, with +a low cry. "And they are all alike--all used and common. But this,"--she +kissed him, drawing him closer to her beating heart. "This is you and all!" + +Thus she taught him the fire of love--so quickly, so surely! From the vague +boyish beatitude had sprung this passion, like the opulent blossom out of +the infolding bosom of the plant. Her kiss had dissipated his horrid +suspicions. Her lips were bond and oath and sacrament. + +That night they escaped the world with its fierce cross-purposes, its +checker-board scheme. The brutality of human success, the anguish of +strife,--what is it when man is shut within the chamber of his joy! Outside +the peaceful rain fell ceaselessly, quenching the flame and the smoke and +the passion of the city. + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"Next week Monday is the tenth," Alves announced, glancing at the calendar +that hung beside the writing-table. + +"Well?" Sommers answered. He was preparing to make the daily trip to the +post-office on the other side of Perota Lake. + +"The Chicago schools open this year on the tenth," Alves continued slowly. + +"What difference does that make?" + +For reply Alves took from the drawer of the table the old leather purse +that was their bank. The mute action made Sommers smile, but he opened the +purse and counted the bills. Then he shoved them back into the purse, and +replaced it in the drawer. + +"I don't know why I haven't heard about my horse," he mused. + +"That would only put the day off another month or two," Alves answered. "We +have had our day of play--eight long good weeks. The golden-rod has been +out for nearly a month, and the geese have started south. We saw a flock +yesterday, you remember." + +"But you aren't going back to the school!" Sommers protested. "Not to the +Everglade School." + +"I got the notices last week. They haven't discharged me! Why not?" she +added sanely. "You know that it will be hard to build up a practice. And +Miss M'Gann wrote me that we could get a good room at the Keystone. That +won't be too far from the school." + +"I had thought of returning to Marion, where my father practised," Sommers +suggested. "If we could only stay _here_, in this shanty three miles +from a biscuit!" + + +Alves smiled, and did not argue the point. They went to the shore where +their little flat-bottomed boat was drawn up. Perota Lake, on which the +tiny frame cottage stood, was a shallow, reedy pond, connecting by sluggish +brooks with a number of other lakes. The shore on this side of the lake was +a tangled thicket; the opposite shore rose in a gentle slope to fields of +sun-dried grain. The landscape was rich, peaceful, uneventful, with wide +spaces of sun and cloud and large broad Wisconsin fields. The fierce west +wind came cool and damp from the water. Sommers pulled out of the reedy +shore and headed for a neighboring lake. After rowing in silence for some +time, he rested on his oars. + +"Why couldn't we stay here? That is what I want to do--to keep out of the +city with its horrible clatter of ambitions, to return to the soil, and +live like the primitive peasant without ambition." + +The Wisconsin woman smiled sympathetically. She had grown strong and +firm-fleshed these summer weeks, sucking vitality from the warm soil. + +"The land is all owned around here!" she laughed. "And they use herb +doctors or homeopaths. No, we should starve in the midst of harvests. There +is only one thing to do, to go back where we can earn a bit of bread." + +Sommers started to row, but put down the oars again. + +"Do _you_ want to go back?" + +"I never think about it. It is so arranged," she answered simply. "Perhaps +it will not be always so." + +"Which means that we may be more fortunate than our neighbors?" + +"I don't know--why think? We have until Monday," and she leaned forward to +touch his hand. + +Why think! That is what she had taught him. They had sloughed off Chicago +at the first, and from the day they arrived at Perota they had sunk into a +gentle, solitary routine. Sommers had been content to smoke his pipe, to +ruminate on nothings, to be idle with no strenuous summoning of his will. +There had been no perplexity, no revolt, no decision. Even the storm of +their love subdued itself to a settled warmth, like that of the insistent +summer sun. They had little enough to do with, but they were not aware of +their poverty. Alves had had a long training in economy, and with the +innate capability of the Wisconsin farmer's daughter, adjusted their little +so neatly to their lives that they scarcely thought of unfulfilled wants. + +Now why, the man mused, must they break this? Why must they be forced back +into a world that they disliked, and that had no place for them? If he were +as capable as she, there would be no need. But society has discovered a +clever way of binding each man to his bench! While he brooded, Alves +watched the gentle hills, straw-colored with grain, and her eyes grew moist +at the pleasant sight. She glanced at him and smiled--the comprehending +smile of the mothers of men. + +"You would not want it always." + +They landed at the end of the lake; from there it was a short walk over the +dusty country road to the village. The cross-roads hamlet with its saloons +and post-office was still sleeping in midday lethargy. Alves pointed to the +unpainted, stuffy-looking houses. + +"You would not like this." + +At the post-office they met a young fellow wearing a cassock, a strangely +incongruous figure in the Wisconsin village. "Are you coming to vespers?" +the young priest asked. His brown, heavy face did not accord with the +clerical habit or with the thin clerical voice. + +"I think so--for the last time," Alves answered. + +"Guy Jones will be there. You remember Guy, Alves? He used to be quite +sweet on you in the old days when your brother was at the seminary." + +"Yes, I remember Guy," Alves answered hurriedly. She seemed conscious of +Sommers's bored gaze. The young priest accompanied them along the dusty +road. + +"Guy'll be glad to see you again. He's become quite a man out in Painted +Post, Nebraska--owns pretty much the whole place--" + +"We shall be at vespers," Alves repeated, interrupting the talkative young +man. + +When his cassock had disappeared up the dusty road between the fields of +corn, she added, + +"And that, too, you would not like, nor Guy Jones." + +After beaching the boat in front of the cottage they walked to the seminary +chapel by a little path through the meadows along the lake, then across a +wooded hill where the birds were singing multitudinously. The buildings of +the Perota Episcopal Seminary occupied the level plateau of a hill that lay +between two lakes. A broad avenue of elms and maples led to the rude stone +cloisters, one end of which was closed by the chapel. To Sommers the cheap +factory finish of the chapel and the ostentatious display of ritualism were +alike distasteful. The crude fervors of the boy priests were strangely out +of harmony with the environment. But Alves, to whom the place was full of +associations, liked the services. As they entered the cloisters, a tiny +bell was jangling, and the students were hurrying into the chapel, their +long cassocks lending a foreign air to the Wisconsin fields. Only one other +person was seated on the benches beneath the choir, a broad-faced young +American, whose keen black eyes rested upon Alves. She was absorbed in the +service, which was loudly intoned by the young priest. The candles, the +incense, the intoned familiar words, animated her. Sommers had often +wondered at the powerful influence this service exerted over her. To the +training received here as a child was due, perhaps, that blind wilfulness +of self-sacrifice which had first brought her to his notice. + +"The remission and absolution of sins--" Alves was breathing heavily, her +lips murmuring the mighty words after the priest. Was there a sore hidden +in her soul? Did she crave some supernatural pardon for a desperate deed? +The memory of miserable suspicions flashed over him, and gravely, sadly, he +watched the quivering face by his side. If she sought relief now in the +exercise of her old faith, what would come as the years passed and heaped +up the burden of remorse! + + * * * * * + +The service ended, and the three lay participants sauntered into the +graveyard outside the west door. The setting sun flooded the aisle of the +little chapel, even to the cross on the altar. The tones of the organ +rolled out into the warm afternoon. The young man approached Alves with +extended hand. + +"The boys told me I could find you here. It's real good to see you again. +Yes, I'm back to have a look at the old place. Wouldn't return to +_stay_ for worlds. It's a great place out there, where a man counts +for what he is. Won't you make me acquainted with your husband?" + +Sommers felt instinctively the hesitation in Alves's manner. She turned to +him, however. + +"Howard, this is my brother's old friend, Mr. Jones,--Dr. Sommers." + +The young man shook hands with great warmth, and joined them in their walk +home, talking rapidly all the way. When he left the cottage, he extended a +cordial invitation to Sommers to establish himself in Painted Post. "We +want a good, live, hustling doctor, one that is up in all the modern school +theories," he explained. + +After he had gone, they sat in silence, watching the deepening twilight in +the cool woods. The day, the season, the fair passion of life, seemed to +wane. Like the intimations of autumn that come in unknown ways, even in +August, surely in September, this accidental visitor brought the atmosphere +of change. + +"The struggle begins, then, next Monday," Sommers remarked at last. + +She kissed him for reply. + +To love, to forget unpleasant thoughts, to love again, to refrain from an +ignoble strife--alas! that it could not be thus for a lifetime. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The Keystone Hotel was in full blast when the doctor and Alves returned +from Wisconsin. Miss M'Gann met them and introduced them to the large, +parlor-floor room she had engaged for them. The newcomers joined the +household that was taking the air on the stone steps of the hotel. The step +below Miss M'Gann's was held by a young man who seemed to share with Miss +M'Gann the social leadership of the Keystone. He was with the Baking Powder +Trust, he told Sommers. He was tall and fair, with reddish hair that massed +itself above his forehead in a shiny curl, and was supplemented by a waving +auburn mustache. His scrupulous dress, in the fashion of the foppish clerk, +gave an air of distinction to the circle on the steps. Most of this circle +were so average as scarcely to make an impression at first sight,--a few +young women who earned their livelihood in business offices, a few decayed, +middle-aged bachelors, a group of widows whose incomes fitted the rates of +the Keystone, and several families that had given up the struggle with +maids-of-all-work. One of these latter,--father, mother, and daughter--had +seats at table with Sommers and Alves. The father, a little, bald-headed +man with the air of a furtive mouse, had nothing to say; the mother was a +faded blond woman, who shopped every day with the daughter; the daughter, +who was sixteen, had the figure of a woman of twenty, and the assurance +born in hotels and boarding-houses. Her puffy rounded face, set in a thick +roll of blond hair, had the expression of a precocious doll. When she had +sounded Alves on the subject of silk waists, she relapsed into silence and +stared amiably at the doctor. + +Sommers arranged to hang his little celluloid sign, _Howard Sommers, M. +D., Physician and Surgeon_, beneath his window. The proprietor of the +Keystone thought it gave a desirable, professional air to the house. But +Webber, the young man in the Baking Powder Trust, was sceptical of its +commercial value to the doctor. Certainly the results from its appearance +were not ascertainable. Sommers had no patients. The region about the +Keystone was a part of the World's Fair territory, and had been greatly +overbuilt. It had shrunk in these stagnant months to one-tenth of its +possible population. There was, besides, an army of doctors, at least one +for every five families Sommers judged from the signs. They were for the +most part graduates of little, unknown medical schools or of drug stores. +Lindsay had once said that this quarter of the city was a nest of +charlatans. The two or three physicians of the regular school had private +hospitals, sanitariums, or other means of improving their business. Many of +the doctors used the drug stores as offices and places of rendezvous. Their +signs hung, one below another, from a long crane at the entrances of the +stores. It was an impartial, hospitable method of advertising one's +services. There was one such bulletin at the shop on the corner of the +neighboring avenue; the names were unfamiliar and foreign,--Jelly, Zarnshi, +Pasko, Lemenueville. Sommers suspected that their owners had taken to +themselves _noms de guerre_. + +At first Sommers avoided these places, and got the few drugs he needed at a +well-known pharmacy in the city. He had an idea that matters would improve +when people returned from the country or the seashore. But these people did +not take long vacations. He had had but one case, the wife of a Swedish +janitor in a flat-building, and he had reason to believe that his services +had not pleased. Every morning, as Alves hurried to reach the Everglade +School, his self-reproach increased. He hated to think that she was in the +same treadmill in which he had found her. His failure was a matter of +pride, also; he began to suspect that the people in the house talked about +it. When Webber spoke to him of Dr. Jelly's success, he felt that the +Keystone people had been making comparisons. They were walking to the +railroad station after breakfast--the clerk on his way south to the baking +powder works; he, for a daily paper. The young clerk nodded to a +black-whiskered, sallow man, and said: + +"He's Doc. Jelly, and has the biggest practice around here. He's thick with +the drug-store people,--has an interest in it, I have heard. I haven't seen +your sign over there. Why don't you hang it out?" + +Sommers did not like to say that it was in bad professional form. After he +had left the friendly clerk, however, he walked over to the drug store and +made some inquiries in a general way. The place was a shameful pretence of +a prescription pharmacy. Cigars, toilet articles, and an immense soda-water +fountain took up three-fourths of the floor space. A few dusty bottles were +ranged on some varnished oak shelves; there was also a little closet at one +side, where the blotchy-faced young clerk retired to compound +prescriptions. The clerk hailed him affably, calling him by his name. He +seemed to know that Sommers used up-town pharmacies and had no practice; +and he, too, good-naturedly offered his advice. + +"Goin' to settle in the neighborhood? Shall be glad to have your slab to +add to the collection." He pointed jocularly to the filigree-work of signs +that were pendent above the door. + +"Well, I am not settled yet," Sommers replied, as easily as he could. + +"Mostly homeopaths hereabouts," the clerk went on, rolling out a handful of +cigars for a purchaser to make his selection. "Makes no difference, I say; +any one with a diploma is welcome to hang out and try his chances with the +rest. But all these"--he waved the hand which held the cigars at the +signs--"are fine men. They do a rushin' business." + +Sommers left the shop; he was not quite ready to do a "rushin' business" +and to advertise for it from the corner drug store. As he retreated the +clerk looked at him with a cynical smile. In the clerk's vernacular, he +wasn't "in the push," not "the popular choice." + +These days Sommers had so little to do that he could meet Alves at the +close of the afternoon session. At first he had gone to the Everglade +School and waited while the pupils bustled out. He disliked seeing her in +the performance of her petty duties, giving commands and reproofs. The +principal and the teachers stared at them when they walked away from the +school, and he gathered that his appearance there was embarrassing to +Alves. So they came to have a rendezvous at the rear of a vacant lot not +far from the deserted cottage, which lifted its ill-favored roof above the +scrub oaks. Then they would traverse the familiar walks in and out of the +deserted streets. + +When he told her of his conversation with Webber and the drug clerk's +remarks, she counselled unexpectedly: + +"Why don't you do it? Miss M'Gann says they all do it in Chicago,--that is, +the doctors who aren't swells." + +He smiled sadly at the idea that his holding aloof from this advertising +custom might be set down to his ambition of being a "swell doctor." The +method, however, seemed entirely proper to Alves, who hadn't the +professional prejudices, and whose experience with the world had taught her +to make the fight in any possible way, in any vulgar way that custom had +pointed out. + +"Well, if you want me to," he conceded drearily. + +"It isn't a great matter," she replied. "I don't _want_ you to do +anything that you don't feel like doing. Only," she sighed, "there's so +much opposition to married women's teaching, and we must live somehow." + +"I'll do it to-morrow," Sommers replied quickly, stung by the unintentional +implication of the speech. + +They walked to their favorite haunt on the lake shore, beneath the +crumbling walls of the little convent. During these hot September days this +spot had become the brightest place in their lives. They had come there to +find themselves, to avoid the world. They had talked and planned, had been +silent, had loved, and had rested. Today they watched the fiery sun sinking +in its bed of shining dust, and did not speak. Alves was unusually weary, +and he was sad over the decision he had just made, weakly, it seemed to +him. A good deal of the importance of his revolt against commercial +medicine disappeared. Lindsay tried oily, obsequious means of attracting +attention. He was to hang his sign from a corner store. Some dim idea of +the terrible spectre that haunts the days and nights of those without +capital or position confronted him. If he had never been rich, he had +always the means to give him time to look about, to select from a number of +opportunities. If he could manage to wait, even six months, some hospital +place might turn up. His old associates at Philadelphia would have him in +mind. He did not dare to write them of his necessity; even his friends +would be suspicious of his failure to gain a foothold in this hospitable, +liberal metropolis. + +He rose at last to escape these gloomy thoughts. Alves followed him without +a word. He did not offer her his arm, as he was wont to do when they walked +out here beyond the paths where people came. She respected his mood, and +falling a step behind, followed the winding road that led around the ruined +Court of Honor to the esplanade. As they gained the road by a little +footpath in the sandy bank, a victoria approached them. The young woman who +occupied it glanced hastily at Sommers and half bowed, but he had turned +back to give Alves his hand. The carriage drove on past them, then stopped. + +"That lady wishes to speak to you," Alves said. + +"I think not," Sommers replied quickly, turning in the opposite direction. +As they walked away the carriage started, and when Alves looked around it +had already passed over the rough wooden bridge that crossed the lagoon. + +"Was it some one you knew?" she asked indifferently. + +"It was Miss Hitchcock," Sommers replied shortly. He told her something +about the Hitchcocks. "She was the first woman I knew in Chicago," he +concluded musingly. Alves looked at him with troubled eyes, and then was +silent. Territories unknown in her experience were beginning to reveal +themselves in the world of this man. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The next day Sommers applied at the drug store for permission to hang his +sign beneath the others. The question was referred to Jelly, who seemed to +be the silent partner in the business, and in a few days consent was given. +The little iron sign with gilt letters shone with startling freshness +beneath the larger ones above. But no immediate results were visible. +Sommers dropped into the store as nonchalantly as he could almost daily, +but there were no calls for him. He met Jelly, who looked him over coldly, +while he lopped over the glass show-case and smoked a bad cigar. Sommers +thought he detected a malicious grin on the clerk's face when Jelly +questioned him one day about his practice. The successful physician seemed +to sum him up in a final speech. + +"What people want hereabouts is a practical, smart man. They don't take +much stock in schools or training; it's the _man_ they want." + +Leaving the clear impression that the young doctor was not the man for +their money, he grasped his black bag and lounged out of the door, puffing +at his cigar and spitting as he went. The Keystone, also, did not find +Sommers the man they could rely upon. When the overfed daughter of the +family at his table was taken ill with a gastric fever, the anxious mamma +sent for Jelly. Webber took this occasion to give him advice. Apparently +his case was exciting sympathy in the hotel,--at least Miss M'Gann and the +clerk had consulted about it. + +"You don't get acquainted with the folks," Webber explained. "You go and +shut yourself up in your room after every meal, instead of talking to +people and being sociable like the rest of us. And you haven't formed any +church connection. That helps a man, especially in your profession. You +ought to get connected with a good church, and go to the meetings and +church sociables. Join the young people's clubs and make yourself +agreeable. It don't make any difference how much you know in this world. +What people want is a good, open-hearted fellow, who meets 'em easily and +keeps in sight." + +'In different circles, different customs,' thought Sommers. 'Lindsay +frequents dinners, and I must attend church sociables!' + +"You and Mrs. Sommers hold yourselves apart," Webber went on with friendly +warmth, "as if you were too good for ordinary company. Now I know you don't +really think so at all. As soon as you break the ice, you will be all +right. There was Lemenueville. He started in here the right way, took to +the Presbyterian church, the fashionable one on Parkside Avenue, and made +himself agreeable. He's built up a splendid practice, right there in that +congregation!" + +"Are there any good churches left?" Sommers inquired. + +"Well, I shouldn't be bashful about cutting into the Presbyterian. You're +as good as Lemenueville." + +Decidedly, Sommers thought, this simple society had its own social habits. +If he did not take this well-meant advice, he must justify himself by his +own method. He made up his mind to go to the next meeting of the medical +society. His clothes were a trifle shabby, but as the meeting was in the +evening, he could go in his evening dress--drop in casually, as it were, +from an evening entertainment. That silly bit of pride, however, angered +him with himself. He went in his shabby everyday suit. The experience was +the most uncomfortable one he had had. The little groups of young doctors +did not open to him. They had almost forgotten him. Even his old colleagues +at the hospital scarcely recognized him, and when they did stop to chat +after the meeting, they examined him indifferently, as if they were making +notes. Lindsay had probably spread his story, with some imaginative +details. According to the popular tale Sommers had been "thrown down" by +Miss Hitchcock because he had mixed himself up with a married woman. Then +he had been discharged by Lindsay for the same reason, and had sunk, had +run away with the woman, and had come back to Chicago penniless. The woman +was supporting him, some one said. Enough of this pretty tale could be read +in the bearing of the men to make Sommers sorry that he had come, and +sorrier that he had come in the hope of bettering his condition. He slipped +out unobserved and walked the six miles back to the Keystone. + +The fight was on; he was placed, as he had wished, without handicap; he +closed his jaws and summoned all his will to take the consequences. The +pity was that he had brought himself to make any concessions to the +obsequiousness of the world. As he passed down Michigan Avenue he overtook +a shabby laboring man, who begged of him. Sommers found out that he was a +striker, a fireman on the Illinois Central, who had lost his job by being +blacklisted after the strike. He had walked the streets since the middle of +July. + +"You were a fool," Sommers remarked calmly, "to think that you and yours +could make any impression on the General Managers' Association. You have +had your lesson, and the next time you find yourself hanging on to the +world, no matter how, don't kick over the traces. There's a quarter. It's +more than I can afford to give, and I think you're a fool." + +The man hesitated. + +"I don't want none of your money," he growled at last. "If you had to work +for a living, you silk stocking--" + +"Come, don't call me names. I am a fool, too. I am in the same boat. I'd +give a good deal for a job, any job to earn my living. I didn't say it +wasn't natural what you did, but it's against the facts, against the +facts." + +The man stared, took the quarter, and dived into a cross street. + +"I have lost twenty cents by walking home," Sommers reported to Alves, "but +I have realized--a few facts." + +The following day, as Sommers was passing the drug store, the clerk +beckoned to him. A messenger had just come, asking for immediate help. A +woman was very ill--third house north on Parkside Avenue. + +"There's your chance," the clerk grinned. "They're rich and Jelly's people. +He won't be back before two. Just show Dr. Sommers the way," he added, to +the servant who had brought the message. + +Sommers had his doubts about going, for Jelly was an "eclectic" and +probably would refuse to consult with him. The matter seemed urgent, +however, and he followed the servant. The case, he found on examination, +was serious and at a critical stage. It was an affair of mismanaged +confinement. Jelly, Sommers could see, was brutally ignorant. The woman, if +she survived, would probably be an invalid for life. He did what he could +and remained in the house, waiting for Jelly, who would be sure to come. +About three the black-whiskered doctor arrived and hurried upstairs, his +sallow face scowling. Sommers explained what he had done, and suggested +that a certain operation was necessary at once to save matters at all. +Jelly interrupted him. + +"See here, young feller, this is my case, and you're not wanted, nor your +advice. You can send your bill to me." + +Sommers knew that he should bow and withdraw. Jelly was within his +professional rights, but the man's brutal ignorance maddened him, and he +spoke recklessly. + +"A first-year interne could tell you the same thing. The woman has been +nearly killed, if you want to know the truth. And I don't know that I shall +leave you to complete the job." + +"What are you going to do about it?" Jelly asked insolently. + +Sommers paused. He was clearly in the wrong, professionally. There was not +a well-trained doctor in Chicago who would abet him in his act. But it +mattered little; his own desperate situation gave him a kind of freedom. + + +"I shall present the facts to her husband." He found the husband in the +room below and stated the case. + +"What I am doing," he concluded, "is entirely unprofessional, but it's the +thing I should want any man to do for me. You needn't take my word, but +call up either Dr. Fitz or Dr. Sloper by telephone, and ask one of them to +come out at once. They are the best surgeons in the city. As to Dr. Jelly, +I prefer not to say anything, and I don't expect you to take my advice." + +The husband was anxious and worried. All doctors seemed to him a game of +chance. + +"She's always hankered after the Science people; but she kind of took to +Jelly, and our friends think an awful sight of him," he remarked +doubtfully. + +"You are taking tremendous risks," Sommers urged. + +"Well, I'll see Jelly." + +Sommers waited until the man returned. + +"Well, I guess it isn't so bad as you think. We'll wait a day or two, I +guess. I am obliged to you for your kindness." + +Sommers made no reply and left the house. The only result of this affair +was that he found it disagreeable to call at the drug store. Besides, it +was useless; no practice had come from his assiduous attendance. Finally, +he saw one morning that his modest sign no longer waved from the pendent +ladder. He did not take the trouble to inquire why it had been removed. + + * * * * * + +The winter was wearing on,--the slow, penurious winter of exhaustion after +the acute fury of the spring and summer. These were hard times in earnest, +not with the excitement of failures and bankruptcies, but with the steady +grind of low wages, no employment, and general depression. The papers said +things would be better in the fall, when the republican candidates would be +elected. But it was a long time to wait for activity. Meanwhile the streets +down town were filled with hungry forms, the remnant of the World's Fair +mob swelled by the unemployed strikers. The city was poor, too. The school +funds were inadequate. The usual increase in salary could not be paid. +Instead, the board resolved to reduce the pay of the grade teachers, who +had the lowest wages. Alves received but forty dollars a month now, and had +been refused a night school for which she had applied. + +When Alves timidly suggested that it would be cheaper for them to rent one +of the many empty cottages in the vast region south of the parks, he put +her off. That would be too much like the experience in the Ninety-first +Street cottage, and he fought against the idea. There were a few dollars +still left from the sale of his horse, his microscope, and other +possessions. A few dollars each week came in from some work he had found in +preparing plates for a professor of anatomy in the new university. Some +weeks he could almost pay his board without drawing from his capital. They +would hang on in this way. + +Not that the Keystone Hotel was in itself very attractive. In spite of +Webber's advice, he and Alves found it hard to mix with the other "guests." +After they had been in the house several months, he fancied that the people +avoided them. The harmless trio left their table, and in place of them came +a succession of transient boarders. For a time he thought he was +oversensitive, inclined to suspect his neighbors of avoiding him. But one +evening Alves came into their room, where he was working at the anatomy +plates, her face flushed with an unusual distress. + +"What reason have they?" Sommers asked, going directly to the heart of the +matter. + +"None--unless Miss M'Gann has been talking carelessly. And she knows +nothing--" + +"No, she knows nothing," the doctor replied, looking at Alves intently. +"And there is nothing to be known." + +"We think not!" she exclaimed. "I am not so sure that an unpleasant story +couldn't be made." + +"What do you mean?" he asked sharply. + +"Why, the--my husband's condition--the death, our going away so quickly +afterward. There are elements there of a good-sized boarding-house +scandal." + +"Yes, there are elements!" Sommers admitted, putting away his work. "We may +as well leave as soon as we can. You are right; we had better fight it out +alone." + +"Yes, _alone_," she responded, with a glad note in her voice. + +The next afternoon they looked at the cheap, flimsy cottages they passed in +their walk with more interest than ever. The only places they could afford +were far removed from the populous districts where patients live. They +would have to pay for heat, too, and though they could starve the body, +they could not freeze. So the matter was put off for the present, and they +drew into themselves more and more, leaving the Keystone people to chatter +as they willed. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The great strike was fast being forgotten, as a cause argued and lost or +won as you looked at it. A commission was holding many meetings these +months, and going over the debris, taking voluminous testimony. It was said +to be prejudiced in favor of the strikers, but the victors cared little. +Its findings in the shape of a report would lie on the table in the halls +of Congress, neither house being so constituted that it could make any +political capital by taking the matter up. The Association of General +Managers had lapsed. It had been the banded association of power against +the banded association of labor. It had fought successfully. The issue was +proved: the strike was crushed, with the help of marshals, city police, and +troops. And with it the victors prophesied was crushed the sympathetic +strike forever. It had cost, to be sure, many millions in all, but it paid. +It was such a tremendous example! + +The statistical side of passion was interesting and ironical. It gave the +matter the air of a family row: the next day the heads of the factions were +sitting down to make the inventory of broken glass, ruined furniture and +provisions. A principle had been preserved, people said, talking largely +and superficially, but the principle seemed elusive. The laborers, too, had +lost, more heavily in proportion to their ability to bear--millions in +wages, not to reckon the loss of manhood to those who were blacklisted for +participation in the fracas. + +The Commission went into the Pullman affair, quite unwarrantedly, according +to the corporation, which was comfortably out of the mess. And there were +minor disputes over the injunctions against Debs, and a languid stirring of +dead bones in the newspapers. Every one was tired of the affair and willing +to let it drop, with its lesson for this party or that. Sommers, having +nothing more urgent to do, attended the meetings of the Commission and +listened eagerly to get some final truth about the matter. But it seemed to +him that both sides merely scratched the surface of the argument, and were +content with the superficial "lessons" thereby gained. What good could come +of the hearings? The country would get out of its doldrums sooner or later; +employment would be easy to find; wages would rise, a little; every one +would have his bellyful; and then, some years later, another wave of +depression would set in, the bitter strife would be repeated, both parties +unlessoned by this or any other experience. The world, at least this +civilization, belonged to the strong; the poor would remain weak and +foolish and treacherous. + +It was whispered about on the first days of the hearing that an official of +the American Railway Union would take the stand and make disclosures. He +would show how the strike was finally ended, not by the law and the sword, +but by money. The official's name was Dresser, Sommers heard, and every day +he looked for him to take the stand. But the rumor passed away, and no +"revelations" by Dresser or any one else who knew the inner facts appeared. +Sommers learned them unexpectedly after the Commission had taken itself to +Washington to prepare its report. + +It happened one evening at the Keystone Hotel. He had come in after dinner +and found Miss M'Gann in his room, calling upon Alves. She had brought +Dresser with her. He was well dressed, his hair was cut to a conventional +length, and he carried a silk hat--altogether a different person from the +slouchy, beery man who had grumbled at McNamara and Hills. Sommers's glance +must have said something of this, for Dresser began to explain, + +"I've given up agitating--doesn't go, what with the courts granting +injunctions and the railroads throwing money about." + +"Do you mean _that_ was why the strike collapsed?" Sommers asked +eagerly. + +"Sure!" Dresser thundered heartily. "_I_ KNOW IT. Do you know where +the leaders are? Well, one of 'em has got the finest little ranch you ever +saw out in Montana. And another," he winked slowly and put his hand to his +pocket. "They were poor men when the strike began, and they aren't working +now for any dollar and a half a day." + +"I don't believe it," Sommers replied promptly. "The managers had the +affair in hand, anyway." + +Dresser protested loudly, and irritated by the doctor's scepticism began to +leak, to tell things he had seen, to show a little of the inside of the +labor counsels. He had evidently seen more than Sommers had believed +possible, and his active, ferreting mind had imagined still more. The two +women listened open-mouthed to his story of the strike, and feeling where +the sympathy lay Dresser spoke largely to them. + +"You seem to have found something to do?" Sommers remarked significantly at +the close. + +"I'm assistant editor of a paper," Dresser explained. + +Sommers laughed. "Herr Most's old sheet?" + +"_The Investor's Monthly_." + +Sommers shrieked with laughter, and patted Dresser on the back. "Sammy, +you're a great man! I have never done you justice." + +"The management has been changed," Dresser said gruffly. "They wanted a man +of education, not a mere reporter." + +"Who owns it?" + +"R. G. Carson has the controlling interest." + +Sommers relapsed into laughter. "So this is your ranch in Montana?" + +Dresser rose with an offended air. + +"Oh! sit down, man. I am complimenting you. Haven't you a place as office +boy, compositor, or something for a needy friend?" + +"I don't see what you're so funny about, doctor," Miss M'Gann expostulated. + +"Spoiling the Philistines, you see," Dresser added, making an effort to +chime in with Sommers's irony. + +They talked late. Webber, the stylish young clerk, dropped in, and the +conversation roamed over the universal topics of the day,--the hard times, +the position of the employee in a corporation, etc. The clerk in the Baking +Powder Trust was inclined to philosophical acceptance of present +conditions. Abstractly there might not be much justice for the poor, but +here in the new part of the country every man had his chance to be on top, +to become a capitalist. There was the manager of the B. P. T. He had begun +on ten dollars a week, but he had bided his time, bought stock in the +little mill where he started, and now that the consolidation was arranged, +he was in a fair way to become a rich man. To be rich, to have put yourself +outside the ranks of the precarious classes--that was the clerk's ambition. +Dresser was doubtful whether the good, energetic young clerk could repeat +in these days the experience of the manager of the B. P. T. The two women +took part in the argument, and finally Alves summed the matter up: + +"If we could, all of us would be rich, and then we should feel like the +rich, and want to keep what we could. But as we have to labor hard for a +little joy, it's best to get the joy, as much as you can, and not fret over +the work." + + * * * * * + +Dresser found the Keystone so agreeable that he came there to live. The +doctor and Alves and Miss M'Gann with Webber and Dresser had a table to +themselves in the stuffy basement dining room. Miss M'Gann accepted +impartially the advances of both young men, attending church with one and +the theatre with the other. The five spent many evenings in Sommers's room, +discussing aimlessly social questions, while the doctor worked at the +anatomy slides. Dresser's debauch of revolt seemed to have sobered him. He +bought himself many new clothes, and as time went on, picked up social +relations in different parts of the city. He still talked sentimental +socialism, chiefly for the benefit of Alves, who regarded him as an +authority on economic questions, and whose instinctive sympathies were +touched by his theories. As the clothes became more numerous and better in +quality, he talked less about socialism and more about society. _The +Investor's Monthly_ interested him: he spoke of becoming its managing +editor, hinting at his influence with Carson; and when the doctor jeered, +Dresser offered him a position on the paper. Webber was openly envious of +Dresser's prosperity, which he set down to the account of a superior +education that had been denied him. When Dresser began to mention casually +the names of people whom the Baking Powder clerk had read about in the +newspapers, this envy increased. Dresser's evolution impressed Miss M'Gann +also; Sommers noticed that she was readier to accept Dresser's +condescending attentions than the devotion of the plodding clerk. Webber +was simple and vulgar, but he was sincere and good-hearted. He was striving +to get together a little money for a home. Sommers told Alves that she +should influence Miss M'Gann to accept the clerk, instead of beguiling +herself with the words of a talker. + +"You are unfair to Sammy," Alves had replied, with some warmth. "She would +do very well to marry him; he is her superior." + +Sommers gave Alves a look that troubled her, and said: + +"Because the fellow is settling into an amiable Philistine? He will never +marry Jane M'Gann; it would hurt his prospects." + +A few days later Dresser mentioned that he had met Miss Laura Lindsay, "the +daughter of your former partner, I believe." + +"My former boss," Sommers corrected, looking at Alves with an amused smile. +He listened in ironical glee to Dresser's description of little Laura +Lindsay. Dresser thought her "a very advanced young woman, who had ideas, a +wide reader." She had asked him about Dr. Sommers and Alves. + +"You had better not appear too intimate with us," Sommers advised. "Her +papa doesn't exactly approve of me." + +When he had left the room, Sommers added: "He will marry Laura Lindsay. An +ideal match. He won't remain long in the Keystone, and I am glad of it. The +converted Philistine is the worst type!" + +Alves held her own opinion. She should be sorry to lose Dresser from their +little circle. She permitted herself one remark,--"He is so much of a +gentleman." + +"A gentleman!" Sommers exclaimed scornfully. "Are any of us gentlemen in +the American sense?" + +It seemed probable, however, that Sommers and Alves would be the first to +leave the Keystone. Although the sultry June weather made them think +longingly of the idyllic days at Perota Lake, the journey to Wisconsin was +out of the question. Struggle as he might, Sommers was being forced to +realize that they must give up their modest position in the Keystone. And +one day the proprietor hinted broadly that she had other uses for their +room. They had been tolerated up to this point; but society, even the +Keystone form of society, found them too irregular for permanent +acceptance. And now it was impossible to move away from Chicago. They had +no money for the venture. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +A change, even so small a change as from one boarding-house to another, is +caused by some definite force, some shock that overcomes the power of +inertia. The eleventh of June Sommers had gone to meet Alves at their usual +rendezvous in the thicket at the rear of Blue Grass Avenue. The sultry +afternoon had made him drowse, and when he awoke Alves was standing over +him, her hands tightening nervously. + +"They have dropped you," he said, reading the news in her face. + +She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, until they had plodded down the +avenue for several blocks. + +"Why did they do it!" she murmured rebelliously. "They gave me no reason. +It isn't because I teach badly. It isn't because of the married teachers' +talk: there are hundreds of married women in the schools who haven't been +dismissed." + +"Well," Sommers responded soothingly, "I shouldn't hunt for a rational +reason for their act. They have merely hastened the step we were going to +take some day." + +"What shall we do!" she gasped, overpowered by the visions her practical +mind conjured up. "We could just get along with my forty dollars, and +now--Oh! I've been like a weight about your neck. I have cut you off from +your world, the big world where successes are made!" + +Her large eyes filled with pleading tears. She was generously minded to +take the burden of their fate upon herself. + + +"You seem to have been making most of the success," he responded lightly. +"The big world where Dresser is succeeding doesn't call me very hard. And +it's a pretty bad thing if a sound-bodied, well-educated doctor can't +support himself and a woman in this world," he added more gloomily. "I +_will_, if I have to get a job over there." + +He jerked his head in the direction of the South Chicago steel works. But +the heavens seemed to repel his boast, for the usual cloud of smoke and +flame that hung night and day above the blast furnaces was replaced by a +brilliant, hard blue sky. The works were shut down. They had reached the +end of Blue Grass Avenue at the south line of the park. It was a spot of +semi-sylvan wildness that they were fond of. The carefully platted avenues +and streets were mere lines in the rough turf. A little runnel of water, +half ditch, half sewer, flowed beside the old plank walk. + +They sat down to plan, to contrive in some way to get a shelter over their +heads. From the plank walk where they sat nothing was visible for blocks +around except a little stucco Grecian temple, one of those decorative +contrivances that served as ticket booths or soda-water booths at the +World's Fair. This one, larger and more pretentious than its fellows, had +been bought by some speculator, wheeled outside the park, and dumped on a +sandy knoll in this empty lot. It had an ambitious little portico with a +cluster of columns. One of them was torn open, revealing the simple anatomy +of its construction. The temple looked as if it might contain two rooms of +generous size. Strange little product of some western architect's +remembering pencil, it brought an air of distant shores and times, standing +here in the waste of the prairie, above the bright blue waters of the lake! + +"That's the place for us!" Sommers exclaimed, gazing intently at the +time-stained temple. Alves looked at the building sceptically, for +woman-wise she conceived of only conventional abiding-places. But she +followed him submissively into the little stucco portico, and when he spoke +buoyantly of the possibilities of the place, of the superb view of park and +lake, her worn face gained color once more. The imitation bronze doors were +ajar, and they made a thorough examination of the interior. With a few +laths, some canvas, and a good cleaning, the place could be made +possible--for the summer. + +"That's four months," Sommers remarked. "And that is a long time for poor +people to look ahead." + +The same evening they hunted up the owner and made their terms, and the +next day prepared to move from the Keystone. They had some regrets over +leaving the Keystone Hotel. The last month Sommers had had one or two +cases. The episode with Dr. Jelly had finally redounded to his credit, for +the woman had died at Jelly's private hospital, and the nurse who had +overheard the dispute between the two doctors had gossiped. The first +swallow of success, however, was not enough to warrant any expenditure for +office rent. He must make some arrangement with a drug store near the +temple, where he could receive calls. + +They invited Miss M'Gann, Webber, and Dresser to take supper with them +their first Sunday in the temple. Alves had arranged a little kitchen in +one corner of the smaller of the two rooms. This room received the pompous +name of "the laboratory"; the other room--a kind of hall into which the +portico opened--was bedroom and general living room. + +"We will throw open the temple doors," she explained to Sommers, "and have +supper on the portico between the pillars." + +From that point the lake could be seen, a steely blue line on the horizon. +But it rained on Sunday, and the visitors arrived so bedraggled by the +storm that their feast seemed doomed. Sommers produced a bottle of Scotch +whiskey, and they warmed and cheered themselves. The Baking Powder clerk +grew loquacious first. The Baking Powder Trust was to be reorganized, he +told them, as soon as good times came. There was to be a new trust, twice +as big as the present one, capitalized for millions and millions. The +chemist of the concern had told him that Carson was engineering the affair. +The stock of the present company would be worth double, perhaps three times +as much as at present. He confided the fact that he had put all his savings +into the stock of the present company at its greatly depressed present +value. The company was not paying dividends; he had bought at forty. His +air of financial success, of shrewd speculative insight impressed them all. +Miss M'Gann evidently knew all about this; she smiled as if the world were +a pretty good place. + +Dresser, too, had his boast. He had finally been given charge of _The +Investor's Monthly_, which had absorbed the _La Salle Street +Indicator_. The policy of the papers was to be changed: they were to be +conservative, but not critical, and conducted in the interests of capital +which was building up the country after its financial panic. + +"In the prospective return of good times many new interests will seek +public patronage," he explained to the company. "A new era will dawn--the +era of business combinations, of gigantic cooperative enterprises." + +"Vulgarly known as trusts," Sommers interjected. "And your paper is going +to boom Carson's companies. Well, well, that's pretty good for Debs's +ex-secretary!" + +"You must understand that people of education change their views," Dresser +retorted uncomfortably. "I have had a long talk with Mr. Carson about the +policy of the paper. He doesn't wish to interfere, not in the least, merely +advises on a general line of policy agreeable to him and his associates, +who, I may say, are very heavily engaged in Chicago enterprises. We are +interested at present in the traction companies which are seeking +extensions of their franchises." + +"He's joined the silk-hat brigade," Webber scoffed. "The Keystone ain't +good enough for him any longer. He's going north to be within call of his +friends." + +"How is Laura Lindsay?" Sommers asked. + +"I saw her last night, and I met Mr. Brome Porter and young Polot, too." + +"Did you tell 'em where you were going to-night?" Sommers asked, rather +bitterly. + +"Say, Howard," Dresser replied, pushing back his chair and resting one arm +confidentially on the table, "you must have been a great chump. You had a +soft thing of it at Lindsay's--" + +"I suppose Miss Laura has discussed it with you. I didn't like the set +quite as well as you seem to." + +"Well, it's no use making enemies, when you can have 'em for friends just +as easily as not," Dresser retorted, with an air of superior worldly +wisdom. + + * * * * * + +Miss M'Gann had drawn Alves out of the talk among the men, and they sat by +themselves on the lower step of the temple. + +"I saw Dr. Leonard the other day at a meeting of the Cymbals Society," Miss +M'Gann told Alves. "He asked where you were." + +"I hope he'll come to see us." + +Miss M'Gann looked at the men and lowered her voice. + +"I think he knows what was the reason for dismissing you. He wouldn't tell +me; but if I see him again, I am going to get it out of him." + +"Why, what did he say?" Alves asked. + +"Nothing much. Only he asked very particularly about you and the doctor; +about what kind of man the doctor was, and just when you were married and +where." + +Alves moved nervously. + +"Where were you married, Alves?" Miss M'Gann pursued anxiously. "Here or in +Wisconsin? You were so dreadfully queer about it all." + +"We were not married," Alves replied, in a quiet voice, "at least not in a +church, with a ceremony and all that. I didn't want it, and we didn't think +it necessary." + +The younger woman gasped. + +"Alves! I'd never think it of you--you two so quiet and so like ordinary +folks!" + +"We are like other people, only we aren't tied to each other by a halter. +He can go when he likes," Alves retorted. "I want him to go," she added +fiercely, "just as soon as he finds he doesn't love me enough." + +"Um," Miss M'Gann answered. "Lucky you haven't any children. That's where +the rub comes." + +Alves straightened herself with a little haughtiness. + +"It wouldn't make any difference to _him_. He would do right by them +if he had them." + +"I don't see how he could, at present," Miss M'Gann proceeded, with severe +logic. "It's all very well so long as things go easily. _But_ I had +rather have the ring." + +After a little silence, she continued: "It must have had something to do +with that, I guess, your being dropped. Did any one know?" + +"I never said anything about it," Alves replied coldly. She would have +liked to add an entreaty, for his sake, that Miss M'Gann keep this secret. +But her pride prevented her. + +"That Ducharme woman must have been talking," Miss M'Gann proceeded +acutely. "I saw her around last year, looking seedy, as if she drank." + +"Possibly," Alves assented, "though she didn't know anything." + +"Well, my advice to you is to make that right just as soon as ever you can. +He's willing?" + +"I should never let him," Alves exclaimed vehemently; "least of all now!" + +"Well, I suppose folks must live their own way. But you don't catch me +taking a man in that easy fashion, so that he can get out when he wants +to." + +Alves tried to change the subject, but her admission had so startled her +friend that the usual gossip was impossible. When the visitors rose to go, +Sommers proposed showing them the way back by a wagon road that led to the +improved part of the park, across the deserted Court of Honor. He and Alves +accompanied them as far as the northern limits of the park. The rain clouds +were gone, and a cold, clear sky had taken their place. On their return +along the esplanade beside the lake Sommers chatted in an easy frame of +mind. + +"I guess Webber will get Miss M'Gann, and I am glad of it. Dresser wouldn't +do anything more than fool with her. He will get on now; those promoters +and capitalists are finding him a clever tool. They will keep him steady. +It isn't the fear of the Lord that will keep men like Dresser in line; it's +the fear of their neighbors' opinions and of an empty stomach!" + +"Don't you--wish you had a chance like his?" Alves asked timidly. + +The young doctor laughed aloud. + +"You don't know me yet. It isn't that I don't want to. It's because I +_can't_--no glory to me. But, Alves, we are all right. I can get +enough in one way or another to keep the temple over our heads, and I can +work now. I have something in view; it won't be just chasing about the +streets." + +This reference to his own work both pleased and saddened her. The +biologist, who had befriended him before, had given him some work in his +laboratory. The work was not well paid, but the association with the +students, which aroused his intellectual appetites, had given him a new +spur. What saddened her was that it was all entirely beyond her sphere of +influence, of usefulness to him. Living, as they should, in an almost +savage isolation, she dreaded his absorption in anything apart from her. +There were other reliefs, consolations, and hopes than those she held. He +was slipping away into a silent region--man's peculiar world--of thought +and dream and speculation, an intangible, ideal, remote, unloving world. +Some day she would knock at his heart and find it occupied. + +She leaned heavily upon his arm, loath to have his footsteps so firm, his +head so erect, his eyes so far away, his voice so silent. + +"You are not sorry," she murmured, ashamed of iterating this foolish +question, that demanded one answer--an answer never wholly satisfying. + +"For what?" he asked, interrupting his thought and glancing out into the +black waters. + +"For me--for all this fight for life alone away from the people who are +succeeding, for grinding along unrecognized--" + +He stopped and kissed her gently, striving to quiet her excited mood. + +"For if you did, I would put myself _there_, in the water beside the +piers," she cried. + +He smiled at her passionate threat, as at the words of an emotional child. +Underneath his gentleness, his kindness, his loving ways, she felt this +trace of scepticism. He did not bother his head with what was beginning to +wring her soul. In a few minutes she spoke again: + +"Miss M'Gann thinks Dr. Leonard knows why I was dismissed. Mrs. Ducharme, +she said, had been hanging about the Everglade School district. I remember +having seen her several times." + +Sommers dropped her arm and strode forward. + +"What did _she_ know?" he asked harshly. + +"I don't see how she could know anything except suspicions. You know she +was queer and a great talker." + +Sommers's face worked. He was about to speak when Alves went on. + +"I told Jane we had never been married; she asked me _where_ we were +married. I suppose I ought not to have told her. I didn't want to." + +"It is of no importance," Sommers answered. "It's our own business, anyway; +but it makes no difference as we live now whether she knows it or not." + +"I am glad you feel so," Alves replied with relief. Then in a few moments +she added, "I was afraid she might tell people; it might get to your old +friends." + +Sommers replied in the same even tone, + +"Well? and what can they do about it?" + +"I wonder what a woman like Miss Hitchcock thinks about such +matters,--about us, if she knew." + +"She would not think. She would avoid the matter as she would a case of +drunkenness." + +The arm within his trembled. She said nothing more until they reached the +little portico. She paused there, leaning against one of the crumbling +columns, looking out into the night. From the distance beyond the great +pier that stretched into the lake came the red glare of the lighthouse. + +Sommers had gone in and was preparing the room for the night. She could +hear him whistle as he walked to and fro, carrying out dishes, arranging +the chairs and tables. He maintained an even mood, took the accidents of +his fate as calmly as one could, and was always gentle. He had some well of +happiness hidden to her. She went in, took off her cloak, and prepared to +undress. His clothes, the nicety he preserved about personal matters, had +taught her much of him. Her clothes had always been common, of the +wholesale world; he had had his luxuries, his refinements, his individual +tastes. Gradually, as his more expensive clothes had worn out, he had +replaced them with machine-made articles of cheap manufacture. His +belongings were like hers now. She was bringing him a little closer to her +in such ways,--food and lodging and raiment. But not in thought and being. +Behind those deep-set eyes passed a world of thought, of conjecture and +theory and belief, that rarely expressed itself outwardly. + +She let down her hair and began to take off her plain, unlovely clothes. +Thus she approached the common human basis, the nakedness and simplicity of +life. Her eyes lingered thoughtfully on her body; she touched herself as +she unbuttoned, unlaced, cast aside the armor of convention and daily life. + +"Howard!" she cried imperiously. He stopped his whistling and looked at her +and smiled. + +"Do you like me, Howard?" She blushed at the childishness of her eager +question. But she demanded the expected answer with the insistence of +unsatisfied love. And when he failed to reply at the moment, surprised by +her mood, she knelt by his chair and grasped his knees. + +"Isn't it _all_ that you want, just the temple and me? Am I not enough +to make up for the world and success and pleasure? I can make you love, and +when you love you do not think." + +She rose and faced him with gleaming eyes, stretching out her bare arms, +deploying her whole woman's strength and beauty in mute appeal. + +"Why do you ask?" he demanded, troubled. + +"O Howard, you do not feel the mist that creeps in between us, though we +are close together. Sometimes I think you are farther away than even in the +old times, when I first saw you at the hospital. You think, think, and I +can't get at your thought. Why is it so?" + +He yielded to her entreating arms and eyes, as he had so often before in +like moments, when the need to put aside the consciousness of existence, of +the world as it appears, had come to one of them or both. Yet it seemed +that this love was like some potent spirit, whose irresistible power waned, +sank, each time demanding a larger draught of joy, a more delirious tension +of the nerves. + +"Nothing makes any difference," he answered. "I was born and lived for +this." + +She had charmed the evil mood, and for the time her heart was satisfied. + +But when she lay by his side at night her arm stole about his, as if to +clutch him, fearful lest in the empty reaches of sleep he might escape, +lest his errant man's thoughts and desires might abandon her for the usual +avenues of life. Long after he had fallen into the regular sleep of night, +she lay awake by his side, her eyes glittering with passion and defeat. +Even in these limits of life, when the whole world was banned, it seemed +impossible to hold undisturbed one's joy. In the loneliest island of the +human sea it would be thus--division and ultimate isolation. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The summer burned itself out, and the autumn winds pierced the rotten staff +walls of the temple. They were no nearer to moving into better quarters +than they had been in the spring. The days had come when there was little +food, and the last precarious dollar had been spent. They lived on the edge +of defeat, and such an existence to earnest people is sombre. + +Finally the tide turned. The manager of a large manufacturing plant in +Burnside, one of the little factory hamlets south of the city, asked +Sommers to take charge of an epidemic of typhoid that had broken out among +the operatives. The regular physician of the corporation had proved +incompetent, and the annual visitation of the disease threatened to be +unprecedented. Sommers spent his days and nights in Burnside for several +weeks. When he had time to think, he wondered why the manager employed him. +If the Hitchcocks had been in the city, he should have suspected that they +had a hand in the matter. But he remembered having seen in a newspaper some +months before that the Hitchcocks were leaving for Europe. He did not +trouble himself greatly, however, over the source of the gift, thankful +enough for the respite, and for the chance of renewed activity. When the +time for settlement came, the manager liberally increased the amount of the +doctor's modest bill. The check for three hundred dollars seemed a very +substantial bulwark against distress, and the promise of the company's +medical work after the new year was even more hopeful. Alves was eager to +move from the dilapidated temple to an apartment where Sommers could have a +suitable office. But Sommers objected, partly from prudential reasons, +partly from fear that unpleasant things might happen to Alves, should they +come again where people could talk. And then, to Alves's perplexity, he +developed strange ideas about money getting. + +"The physician should receive the very minimum of pay possible for his +existence," he told her once, when she talked of the increase in his +income. "He works in the dark, and he is in luck if he happens to do any +good. In waging his battle with mysterious nature, he only unfits himself +by seeking gain. In the same way, to a lesser degree, the law and the +ministry should not be gainful professions. When the question of personal +gain and advancement comes in, the frail human being succumbs to +selfishness, and then to error. Like the artist, the doctor, the lawyer, +the clergyman, the teacher should be content to minister to human needs. +The professions should be great monastic orders, reserved for those who +have the strength to renounce ease and luxury and power." + +The only tangible comfort that Alves derived from this unusually didactic +speech was the assurance that he would not be drawn away from her. She +bowed to his conception, and sought to help him. While he was attending the +cases in Burnside, she did some work as nurse. Beginning casually to help +on an urgent case, she went on to other cases, training herself, learning +to take his place wherever she could. She thought to come closer to him in +this way, but she suspected that he understood her motive, that her work +did not seem quite sincere to him. She was looking for payment in love. + +When she was not engaged in nursing, she was more often alone than she had +been the year before. The Keystone people visited the temple rarely. Miss +M'Gann seemed always a little constrained, when Alves met her, and Dresser +was living on the North Side. One December morning, when Alves was alone, +she noticed a carriage coming slowly down the unfinished avenue. It stopped +a little distance from the temple, and a woman got out. After giving the +coachman an order, she took the foot-path that Alves and Sommers had worn. +Alves came out to the portico to meet the stranger, who hastened her +leisurely pace on catching sight of a person in the temple. At the foot of +the rickety steps the stranger stopped. + +"You are Miss Hitchcock," Alves said quickly. "Won't you come in?" + +"How did you know!" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed, and added without waiting for +a reply: "Let's sit here on the steps--the sun is so warm and nice. I've +been a long time in coming to see you," her voice rippled on cordially, +while Alves watched her. "But we've been out of the city so much of the +time,--California, North Carolina, and abroad." + +Alves nodded. The young woman's ease of manner and luxurious dress +intimidated her. She sat down on the step above Miss Hitchcock, and she had +the air of examining the other woman without committing herself. + +"But, how did you know me?" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed, with a little laugh +of satisfaction. + +"Dr. Sommers has told me about you." + +"Did he! He didn't tell any one of his marriage." The bluntness of the +speech was relieved by the confidential manner in which Miss Hitchcock +leaned forward to the other woman. + +"It was sudden," Alves replied coolly. + +"I know! But _we_, my father and I, had a right to feel hurt. We knew +him so well, and we should have liked to know you." + +"Thank you." + +"But we had no cards--you disappeared--hid yourselves--and you turn up in +this unique place! It's only by chance that I've found you now." + +"We didn't send out cards. We are such simple people that we don't +expect--" + +Miss Hitchcock blushed at the challenge, and interrupted to save the speech +from its final ungraciousness. + +"Of course, but we are different. We have always been so interested in Dr. +Sommers. He was such a promising man." + +Alves made no effort to reply. She resented Miss Hitchcock's efforts to +reach her, and withdrew into her shell. This young woman with her attendant +brougham belonged to the world that she liked to feel Sommers had renounced +for her sake. She disliked the world for that reason. + +"Is he doing well?" Miss Hitchcock asked bluntly. "He was so brilliant in +his studies and at the hospital! I was sorry that he left, that he felt he +ought to start for himself. He had a good many theories and ideals. We +didn't agree,"--she smiled winningly at the grave woman, "but I have had +time to understand somewhat--only I couldn't, I can't believe that my +father and his friends are _all_ wrong." Miss Hitchcock rushed on +heedlessly, to Alves's perplexity; she seemed desperately eager to +establish some kind of possible understanding between them. But this cold, +mature woman, in her plain dress, repelled her. She could not prevent +herself from thinking thoughts that were unworthy of her. + +Why had he done it! What had this woman to give that the women of her set +could not equal and more than equal? The atmosphere of her brougham, of her +costly gown and pretty hat contrasted harshly with the dingy temple and +dead weeds of the waste land. Dr. Lindsay had said much, and insinuated +more, about the entanglement that had ruined the promising young surgeon. +Was it this woman's sensual power--she rejected the idea on the instant. +Dr. Sommers was not that kind, in spite of anything that Lindsay might say. +She could not understand it--his devotion to this woman, his giving up his +chances. It was all a part of some scheme beyond her power to grasp fully. + +"I want to know you," she said at last, after an awkward silence. "Won't +you let me?" + +Alves leaned slightly forward, and spoke slowly. + +"You are very kind, but I don't see any good in it. We don't belong to your +world, and you would show him all the time what he has to get along +without. Not that he wouldn't do it again," she added proudly, noticing the +girl's lowered gaze. "I don't think that he would like to have me say that +he had given up anything. But he's got his way to make, _here_, and it +is harder work than you imagine." + +"I don't see, then, why you refuse to let me--his old friends--help him." +Miss Hitchcock spoke impatiently. She was beginning to feel angry with this +impassive woman, who was probably ignorant of the havoc she had done. + +"He doesn't want any help!" Alves retorted. "We are not starving now. +_I_ can help him. I will help him and be enough for him. He gave it up +for me." + +"Can you get him friends and practice?" Miss Hitchcock asked sharply. "Can +you make it possible for him to do the best work, and stand high in his +profession? Will you help him to the place where he can make the most of +himself, and not sell his soul for bread?" + +These questions fell like taunts upon the silent woman. She seemed to feel +beneath them the boast, 'I could have done all that, and much more!' These +words were like the rest of this fashionable young woman--her carriage, her +clothes, her big house, her freshness of person--all that she did not have. +Alves retorted: + +"He won't let any one push him, I know. What he wants, he will be glad to +get by himself. And," she added passionately, "I will help him. If I stand +in his way,--and he can't do what he wants to do,--I will take myself out +of his life." + +Boast for boast, and the older woman's passionate words seemed to ring the +stronger. They looked at each other defiantly. At last Miss Hitchcock +pulled her wrap about her, and rose to go. A final wave of regret, of +yearning not to be thrust out in this way from these lives made her say: + +"I am sorry you couldn't have let me be a little friendly. I wanted to have +you to dinner,"--she smiled at the dull practicality of her idea; "but I +suppose you won't come." + +"He may do as he likes," Alves said, in a more conciliatory manner. + +"But he can't!" the girl smiled back good-humoredly. "One doesn't go to +dinner without one's wife, especially when one's wife doesn't like the +hostess." + +Alves laughed at the frank speech. She might have liked this eager, fresh +young woman, who took things with such dash and buoyancy, if she could have +known her on even terms. As they stood facing each other, a challenge on +Miss Hitchcock's face, Alves noticed the doctor's figure in the road +beyond. + +"I think that is Dr. Sommers coming. He can answer your question for +himself." + +Sommers was approaching from Blue Grass Avenue; his eyes were turned in the +direction of the lake, so that he did not see the women on the steps of the +temple until Miss Hitchcock turned and held out her hand. Then he started, +perceptibly enough to make Alves's lips tighten once more. + +"I have been calling on your wife," Miss Hitchcock explained, talking fast. +"But she doesn't like me, won't ask me to come again." + +"We shall be very glad to see you," Alves interposed quickly. "But I make +no calls." + +Miss Hitchcock declined to sit down, and Sommers accompanied her to the +waiting carriage. Alves watched them. Miss Hitchcock seemed to be talking +very fast, and her head was turned toward his face. + +Miss Hitchcock was answering Sommers's inquiries about Colonel and Mrs. +Hitchcock. The latter had died over a year ago, and Colonel Hitchcock had +been in poor health. + +"He has some bitter disappointments," Miss Hitchcock said gravely. "His +useful, honorable, unselfish life is closing sadly. We have travelled a +good deal; we have just come back from Algiers. It is good to be back in +Chicago!" + +"I have noticed that the Chicagoan repeats that formula, no matter how much +he roams. He seems to travel merely to experience the bliss of returning to +the human factory." + +"It isn't a factory to me. It is home," she replied simply. + +"So it is to us, now. We are earning our right to stay within its gates." + +"Are things--going better?" Miss Hitchcock asked hesitatingly. She scanned +the doctor's face, as if to read in the grave lines the record of the year. + +"We are alive and clothed," he replied tranquilly. + +"What a frightful way to put it!" + +"The lowest terms--and not very different from others." His eye rested upon +the glossy horses and the spotless victoria. + +"No!" Miss Hitchcock answered dispiritedly. "But I _won't_ think of it +that way. I am coming to see you again, if I may?" + +"You were very good to look us up," he answered evasively. + +They lingered, speaking slowly, as if loath to part in this superficial +manner. He told her of his employment in Burnside, and remarked slowly, + +"I wonder who could have put the manager on my track." + +"I wonder," she repeated, looking past him. + +"You see I didn't start quite at the scratch," he added, his face relaxing +into a smile. + +"I shouldn't quarrel about _that_ handicap." + +"No, I am not as ready to quarrel as I once was." + +Her face had the eager expression of interest and vitality that he +remembered. She seemed to have something more that she wanted to say, but +she simply held out her hand, with a warm "good-by," and stepped into the +carriage. + +When he returned to the temple, Alves was busy getting their dinner. She +paused, and glancing at Sommers remarked, "How beautiful she is!" + +"She is a good woman. She ought to marry," he responded. + +"Why?" + +"Because she is so sound and fine at bottom." + +"You were glad to see her again." + +"Did I show it unduly?" + +"I knew you were, and she knows it." + +When he looked at her a few moments later, her eyes were moist. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"Pshaw! pshaw!" Dr. Leonard exclaimed, in a coaxing tone. "I'm +disappointed, Alves. 'Tain't natural. I mean to see _him_ and show him +what harm it is." + +"No, no, don't speak of it again, at least to _him_," Alves pleaded +anxiously. "He would do that, or anything, if he thought I wanted it. I +_don't_ want it, I tell you; I'm happier as it is." + +"S'pose there are children?" the old dentist asked, in a convincing tone. + +"I hope there never will be." + +"Now, that shows how wrong you are, how fussed up--why, what's marriage for +if it ain't for children? I guess I've had as hard a struggle as most to +keep head to the tide, but I couldn't spare the children. Now, I'll get our +minister to do the job. You and the doctor come out next Sunday to my +house, and after the evening service we'll slip over to the church and make +it all right." + +Alves smiled at the earnest kindness of the old dentist, but shook her head +firmly. Dr. Leonard gathered up his overcoat and silk hat, but seemed loath +to go. He peered out of the windows that Sommers had put into the big doors +of the temple. + +"It's like your living out here in this ramshackle old chicken-coop, when +you might have a tidy flat on Paulina Street; and the doctor could have a +desk in my office next door to his old boss." Dr. Leonard spoke testily, +and Alves laid her hand soothingly on his arm. + +"I guess we aren't made to be like other people." + +"You won't have any happiness so long as you defy God's law." + +"Did I have any when I lived according to it?" + +The dentist, at the end of his arguments, turned the door-knob. + +"Some day, Alves, _he_ will reproach you justly for what you've done." + +"I shall be dead before that day." + +"I've no patience with you, talking of death and hoping you'll never have +children." + +The old dentist stumbled out into the portico, and, without further words, +trudged down the road. Alves lingered in the open door in spite of the +intense cold, and watched him, with an unwonted feeling of loneliness. The +few people that touched her solitary life seemed to draw back, repelled by +something unusual, unsafe in her and her situation. Why was she so +obstinate about this trivial matter of a ceremony that counted for so much +with most people? At first her refusal had been a sentiment, merely, an +instinctive, unreasoned decision. Now, however, there were stronger causes: +she would not consent to tie his hands, to make him realize the +irrevocableness of his step. Time might come when... + +And why had she so stoutly denied a wish for children? These days her +thoughts went back often to her dead child--the child of the man she had +married. Preston's share in the child was so unimportant now! To the mother +belonged the child. Perhaps it was meant to be so in order that something +might come to fill the empty places of a woman's heart. If she had +children, what difference would that ignorance of the man she loved, that +division from him, make? The man had his work, his ideas--the children of +his soul; and the woman had the children of her body. Each went his way and +worked his life into the fabric of the world. Love! Love was but an +episode, an accident of the few blossoming years of life. To woman there +was the gift of children, and to man the gift of labor. She wondered if +this feeling would increase as the years passed. Would she think more and +more of the child she had had, the other man's child? And less of him whom +she loved? + +"Trying to make an icicle of yourself?" a jovial voice called out; the next +moment Dresser came up the steps. The portico shook as he stamped his feet. +He wore a fur-lined coat, and carried a pair of skates. His face, which had +grown perceptibly fuller since his connection with _The Investor's +Monthly_, was red with cold. + +"The ice on the lake is first-rate, Alves, and I skated up the shore to see +if I could get you for a spin." + +"I am glad you came," Alves said, with new life. "I was kind of lonely and +blue, and the doctor is off on a case the other side of nowhere." + +"Just the time," responded Dresser, who seemed to have the good luck at +present of making "right connections." + +They skated down the lagoon to the blackened Court of Honor, through this +little pond, around the dismantled figure of Chicago, out into the open +lake beside the long pier. The ice was black and without a scratch. They +dashed on toward the centre of the lake, Alves laughing in pure exultation +over the sport. They had left far behind the few skaters that had ventured +beyond the lagoon, and taking hands they flew for a mile down the shore. +Then Alves proposed that they should go back to the temple for a cup of +tea. The wind was up, beating around the long, black pier behind them, and +when they turned, they caught it full in the face. Alves, excited by the +tussle, bent to the task with a powerful swing; Dresser skated fast behind +her. As they neared the long pier, instead of turning in toward the +esplanade, Alves struck out into the lake to round the obstruction and +enter the yacht pool beyond. Dresser kept the pace with difficulty. As she +neared the end of the pier, she gave a little cry; Dresser saw her leap, +then heard a warning shout, + +"Look out--the pool!" As he scuttled away from the oily water where the +drifts opened, he saw Alves clinging to the rim of ice on the piles. + +"Don't be afraid," she called back. "I can crawl under the pier and get up +on the cross-bars. Go on to the shore." + +While he protested she vanished, and in a minute he saw her reappear above, +waving her hand to him. She took off her skates leisurely, wrung out her +skirt, and walked along the pier. He skated up as close as he could, +stammering his admiration and fears. When he reached the shore, she was +already running down the path to the temple. He followed more leisurely, +and found her, in a dry skirt, stirring up the fire in the stove. + +"That was a close call," he gasped admiringly, throwing his skates into the +corner. + +"Wasn't it fine?" she laughed. "I'd like days and days of that--flying +ahead, with a hurricane behind." + +She shovelled some coal into the ugly little stove, and gayly set about +preparing tea. Dresser had never seen her so strong and light-hearted as +she was this afternoon. They made tea and toasted crackers, chaffing each +other and chattering like boy and girl. After their meal Dresser lit his +pipe and crouched down by the warm stove. + +"I wish you were like this oftener," he murmured admiringly. "Gay and ready +for anything!" + +"I don't believe I shall be as happy as this for weeks. It comes over me +sometimes." + +She leaned forward, her face already subdued with thought. + +"It makes you beautiful to be happy," Dresser said, with clumsy +self-consciousness. + +Alves's eyes responded quickly, and she leaned a little farther forward, +pondering the words. Suddenly Dresser took her hand, and then locked her in +his arms. Even in the roughness of his passion, he could not fail to see +her white face. She struggled in his grasp without speaking, as if knowing +that words would be useless. And Dresser, too embarrassed by his act to +speak, dragged her closer to him. + +"Don't touch me," she gasped; "what have I done!" + +"I _will_ kiss you," the man cried. "What difference is it, anyway?" + +He wrested her from the low chair, and she fell without power to save +herself, to struggle further. The room was swimming before her eyes, and +Dresser had his arms about her. Then the door opened, and she saw Sommers +enter. Her eyes filled with tears. + +"What is the matter?" he exclaimed, looking sharply about at the upset +chair, the prostrate form, and Dresser's red face. + +"She has fallen--fainted," Dresser stammered. +Alves seemed to acquiesce for a moment, and her head sank back; then she +opened her eyes and looked at Sommers pitifully. + +"No, Howard. Help me." + +Sommers raised her, his face much troubled. While he held her, she spoke +brokenly, trying to hide her face. + + +"You must know. He kissed me. I don't know why. Make him go away. O Howard, +what am I?" + +Sommers dropped his arm from Alves and started toward Dresser, who was +edging away. + +"What is this?" + +His dictatorial tone made Dresser pause. + +"She told you. I was a fool. I tried to kiss her." + +Sommers took him by the arm without a word. + +"Yes, I am going. Don't make a row about it. You needn't get into a state +about it. She isn't Mrs. Sommers, you know!" + +"Oh!" Alves groaned, closing her eyes again. "How can he say that!" + +Sommers dropped his arm. + +"Who told you that Alves was not my wife?" he asked drearily. + +"Every one knows it. Lindsay has the whole story. You--" + +"Don't say anything more," Sommers interrupted sternly. "You are too nasty +to kill." + +His tone was quiet. He seemed to be questioning himself what he should do. +Finally, opening the door, he grasped Dresser by the neck and flung him +into the sand outside. Then he closed the door and turned to Alves. She was +crouching before the fire, sobbing to herself. He stroked her hair +soothingly. + +"We must conform," he said at last. + +She shook her head. "It is too late to stop that talk. I was wrong to care +about not having the ceremony, and it was foolish to tell Jane. But--to +have him think, his touch--how can you ever kiss me again! You let him go," +she added, her passion flaming up; "I would have killed him. Why didn't you +let me kill him?" + +"That is savage," he replied sadly. "What good is it to answer brutality by +crime? You cannot save your skirts from the dirt," he concluded softly to +himself. "I knew the fellow was bad; I knew it eight years ago, when he +took a Swiss girl to Augsburg and left her there. But I said to myself then +that, like many men, he had his moods of the beast which he could not +control, and thought no more about it. Now his mood of the beast touches +me. Society keeps such men in check; he will marry Laura Lindsay and make +an excellent, cringing husband, waiting for Lindsay's savings. You see," he +ended, turning to his work-table, "I suppose he felt released from the +bonds of society by the way we live, by--it all." + +Alves rose and walked to and fro. + +"Do you think," she asked at last, "that anything I could have done--he +could have felt that I--encouraged him?" + +"I don't think anything more about it," Sommers answered, closing his lips +firmly. "It is part of the mire; we must avert our eyes, Alves." + +But in spite of his mild, even gentle way of dealing with the affair, he +could not fall into his routine of work. He got up from the table and, +finding the room too warm, threw open a window to let the clear, cold +winter air rush over his face. He stood there a long time, plunged in +thought, while Alves waited for him to come back to her. At last she could +bear it no longer. She crept over to his side and placed her head close to +his. + +"I wish you would even hate me, would be angry, would _feel_ it," she +whispered. "Will you ever care to kiss me again?" + +"Foolish woman!" Sommers answered, taking her face in his hands. "Why +should _that_ make any difference to me, any more than if a drunken +brute had struck you?" + +"But it does," she asserted sadly. "Everything does, Howard--all the past: +that I let my husband touch me; that I had to live with him; that you had +to know it, him--it all makes, oh, such a difference!" + +"No," he responded, in a high voice. "By God, it makes no difference--only +one thing." He paused. Then with a wrench he went on, "Alves, did you--did +you--" But he could not make himself utter the words, and before he had +mastered his hesitation she had broken in impetuously: + +"No, I am right; the great happiness that I wanted to give you must come +from the spirit and body of a woman untouched by the evil of living in the +world. The soiled people like me should not--" + +He closed her lips with a kiss. + +"Don't blaspheme our life," he answered tenderly. "One cannot live +unspotted except in the heart." + +He kissed her again, tenderly, lovingly. But the kiss did not assuage her +burning shame; it savored of pity, of magnificent charity. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +One still, frozen winter day succeeded another in changeless iteration. The +lake was a solid floor of gray ice as far as one could see. Along the shore +between the breakwaters the ice lay piled in high waves, with circles of +clear, shining glass beyond. A persistent drift from the north and east, +day after day, lifted the sheets of surface ice and slid them over the +inner ledges. At night the lake cracked and boomed like a battery of +powerful guns, one report starting another until the shore resounded with +the noise. The perpetual groaning of the laboring ice, the rending and +riving of the great fields, could be heard as far inshore as the temple all +through the still night. + +Early every morning Sommers with Alves would start for the lake. At this +hour only an occasional fisherman could be seen, cutting fresh holes in the +ice and setting his lines. Sommers preferred to skate in the mornings, for +later in the day the smooth patches of inshore ice were frequented by +people from the city. He loved solitude, it seemed to Alves, more and more. +In the Keystone days he had been indifferent to the people of the house; +now he avoided people except as they needed him professionally. She +attributed it, wrongly, to a feeling of pride. In reality, the habit of +self-dependence was gaining, and the man was thrusting the world into the +background. For hours Sommers never spoke. Always sparing of words, +counting them little, despising voluble people, he was beginning to lose +the power of ready speech. Thus, living in one of the most jostling of the +world's taverns, they lived as in the heart of the Arizona desert. + +They skated in these long silences, enjoying the exhilaration of the +exercise, the bitter air, the views of the huge, silent city. Now and then +they paused instinctively to watch the scene, without speaking, like great +lovers that are mute. Starting from the sheltered pool, where the yachts +lay in summer, they skirted the dark piles of the long pier, around which +the black water gurgled treacherously. Beyond the pier there was a +snakelike, oozing crack, which divided the inshore ice from the more open +fields outside. This they followed until they found a chance to cross, and +then they sped away toward the little island made by the "intake" of the +water works. + +These windless mornings the bank of city smoke northward was like gray +powder, out of which the skyscrapers stretched their lofty heads. The +buildings along the shore, etched in the transparent air, breathing +silently white mists of steam, lay like a mirage wonderfully touched with +purplish shadows. The great steel works rose to the south, visibly near, +mysteriously remote. The ribbons of fiery smoke from their furnaces were +the first signs of the city's awakening from its lethargic industrial +sleep. The beast was beginning to move along its score of miles of length. +But out here in the vacancies of the lake it seemed still torpid. + +Eastward, beyond the dot which the "intake" made, the lake was a still +arctic field, furrowed by ice-floes, snowy here, with an open pool of water +there, ribbed all over with dark crevasses of oozing water. In the far east +lay the horizon line of shimmering, gauzy light, as if from beyond the +earth's rim was flooding in the brilliance of a perpetual morning. North +and south, east and west, along the crevasses the lake smoked in the +morning sun, as the vapor from the water beneath rose into the icy air. +Savage, tranquil, immense, the vast field of ice was like the indifferent +face of nature, like unto death. + +One morning, as they waited breathlessly listening to the silence of the +ice sea, the lake groaned close beside them, and suddenly the floe on which +they stood parted from the field nearer shore. In a few minutes the lane of +open water was six feet in width. Sommers pointed to it, and without a word +they struck out to the north, weaving their way in and out of the floes, +now clambering over heaved-up barriers of ice, now flying along an +unscarred field, again making their way cautiously across sheets of +shivered surface ice that lay like broken glass beside a crevasse. Finally, +they reached the inner field. Sommers looked at his watch, and said: + +"We might as well go ashore here. That was rather a narrow chance. I must +look in at the Keystone to see how Webber is. I shouldn't wonder if he had +typhoid." + +"I wish we could go on," Alves replied regretfully. "I was hoping the lane +ran on and on for miles." + +She put her hands under his coat and leaned against him, looking wistfully +into the arctic sea. + +"Let me go back!" she pleaded. "I should like to skate on, on, for days!" + +"You can't go back without me. Some day, if this weather keeps up, we'll +try for the Michigan shore." + +"I should like to end things in this way," she continued musingly; "just us +two, to plunge on and on and on into that quiet ice-field, until, at last, +some pool shot up ahead--and then! To go out like that, quenched right in +the heat of our lives; not chilled, piece by piece." + +Sommers moved impatiently. + +"It isn't time for that." + +"No?" she asked rather than assented, and turned her face to the city. "I +am not sure; sometimes I think it is the ripe time. There can be nothing +more." + +Sommers did not answer, but began to skate slowly. Half an hour later they +climbed over the hills of shore ice, and he hurried away to the Keystone. +Alves walked slowly south on the esplanade. The gray sea of ice was covered +now with the winter sun. The pools and crevasses sent up sheets of steam. +Her eyes followed the ice lingeringly. Once she turned back to the lake, +but finally she started across the frozen grass plots in the direction of +the temple. She could see from a distance a black figure seated on the +portico, and she hastened her steps. She recognized the familiar squat, +black-clothed person of Mrs. Ducharme. There, in the sunlight between the +broken pillars, this gloomy figure seemed of ill omen. Alves regretted that +she had turned back from the ice. + +Mrs. Ducharme showed no sign of life until Alves reached the steps. She was +worn and unkempt. A ragged straw hat but partly disguised her rumpled hair. +Alves recalled what Miss M'Gann had said about her drinking. + +"I've been to see you two, three times," Mrs. Ducharme said, in a hoarse, +grumbling tone; "but you'se always out. This time I was a-going to wait if +I'd stayed all night." + +"Come in," Alves answered, unlocking the door. The woman dragged herself +into the temple. + +"Not so tidy a place as you and the other one had," she remarked +mournfully. + +Alves waited for her to declare her errand; but as she seemed in no haste +to speak, she asked, + +"Did you ever find Ducharme?" + +The Duchesse nodded sombrely, closing her eyes. + +"The woman shook him time of the strikes, when his money was gone." + +"Well, isn't that what you wanted?" + +Mrs. Ducharme nodded her head slowly. + +"She made him bad. He drinks, awful sometimes, and whenever I say anything, +he says he's going back to Peory, to that woman." + +Alves waited for the expected request for money. "They'se awful, these men; +but a woman can't get on without _'em_, no more than the men without +_us_. Only the men don't care much which one. Any one will do for a +time. Do you find the new one any better?" + +"I am very happy," Alves replied with a flush; "but I don't care to talk +about my affairs." + +"You needn't be so close," the woman exclaimed irritably. "I know all about +_you_. The _real_ one was a fine gentleman, even if he did liquor +bad." + +"I told you," Alves repeated, "that I didn't care to talk of my affairs. +What do you want?" + +"I've come here to talk of your affairs," Mrs Ducharme answered insolently. +"And I guess you'll listen. He,--I don't mean the doctor,--the real 'un, +came of rich, respectable folks. He told me all about it, and got me to +write 'em for money, and his sister sent him some." + +"So that was where he obtained the money to drink with when he got out of +the cottage!" Alves exclaimed. + +The woman nodded, and added, "He gave me some, too." + +Alves rose and opened the door. + +"I don't see why you came here," she said briefly, pointing to the door. + +But Mrs. Ducharme merely laughed and kept her seat. + +"Did he, the doctor feller, ever ask you anything about his death?" she +asked. + +Alves looked at her blankly. + +"When he signed that paper you gave the undertaker?" continued the +Duchesse. + +"I don't know what you mean!" Alves exclaimed, closing the door and walking +away from the woman. + +"How did _he_ die?" Mrs. Ducharme whispered. + +"You know as well as I," Alves cried, terrified now by the mysterious air +the woman assumed. + +"Yes!" Mrs. Ducharme whispered again. "I know as well as you. I know, and I +can tell. I know how the wife gave him powders,--sleeping powders the +doctor ordered,--the doctor who was hanging around, and ran off with her +just after the funeral." + +The woman's scheme of extracting blackmail flashed instantly into Alves's +mind. + +"You foul creature," she gasped, "you know it is an abominable lie--" + +"Think so? Well, Ducharme didn't think so when I told him, and there are +others that 'ud believe it, if I should testify to it!" + +Alves walked to and fro, overwhelmed by the thoughts of the evil which was +around her. At last she faced Mrs. Ducharme, who was watching her closely. + +"I see what it means. You want money--blackmail, and you think you've got a +good chance. But I will not give you a cent. I will tell Dr. Sommers first, +and let him deal with you." + +"The doctor! What does he say about his dying quiet and nice as he did? I +guess the doctor'll see the point." + +Alves started. What did Sommers think? What were his half-completed +inquiries? What did his conduct the night of Preston's death mean? This +wretched affair was like a curse left to injure her by the miserable +creature she had once been tied to. But Sommers would believe her! She had +given Preston but _one_ powder, and he had said two were safe. She +must tell him exactly what she had done. + +"You had better go now," she said to the woman more calmly. "I shall let +Dr. Sommers know what your story is. He will answer you." + +"Better not tell him," the woman replied, with a laugh. "He _knows_ +all he wants to--or I'd 'a' gone to him at once. When he hears about the +scrape, he'll run and leave you. You ain't married, anyway!" + +"Go," Alves implored. + +Mrs. Ducharme rose and stood irresolutely. + +"I don't want much, not to trouble you. I'll give you a day to think this +over, and to-morrer morning I'll be here at nine sharp to get your answer." + +When the woman had gone, Alves tried to reason the matter out calmly. She +had been too excited. The charge was simply preposterous, and, +inexperienced as she was, she felt that nothing could be made of it in any +court. But the mere suggestion of a court, of a public inquiry, alarmed +her, not for herself but for Sommers, who would suffer grievously. And it +did not seem easy to discuss the matter with him as she must now; it would +bring up distressing scenes. Her face burned at the thought. The woman's +tale was plausible. Had Sommers wondered about the death? Gradually it came +over her that Sommers had always suspected this thing. She was sure of it. +He had not spoken of it because he wished to protect her from her own deed. +But, now, he would not believe her. The Ducharme woman's tale would fit in +with his surmises. No! he _must_ believe her. And beside this last +fear, the idea of publicity, of ventilating the old scandal, thus damning +him finally and hounding him out of his little practice, faded into +inconsequence. The terrible thing was that for eighteen months he had +carried this belief about her in his heart. + +She tried to divert her excited mind from the throng of suspicions and +fears by preparing dinner. One o'clock came, then two, and Sommers did not +arrive. Mrs. Ducharme might have waited for him at the entrance to the +avenue, and he might have turned back to debate with himself what he should +do. But she acquitted him of that cowardice. + + * * * * * + +As the afternoon wore on, her mind turned to the larger thoughts of their +union. She saw with sudden clearness what she had done to this man she +loved. She had taken him from his proper position in the world; she had +forced him to push his theories of revolt beyond sane limits. She had +isolated him, tied him, and his powers would never be tested. A man like +him could never be happy, standing outside the fight with his equals. Worse +yet, she had soiled the reverences of his nature. What was she but a soiled +thing! The tenderness of his first passion had sprung amid the rank growth +of her past with its sordid little drama. And the soil in her fate had +tarnished their lives ever since, until this grievous... + +And what had she given him? Love,--every throb of her passionate body, +every desire and thought. Was this enough? There sounded the sad note of +defeat: it was not, could not be, would never be enough! No man ever lived +from love alone. Passion was a torrid desert. Already she had felt him +fading out of her life, withdrawing into the mysterious recesses of his +soul. He did not know it; he did not willingly put her away. But as each +plant of the field was destined to grow its own way, side by side with its +fellows, so human souls grew singly by themselves from some irresistible +inner force. And she was but the parasite that fed upon this soul. + +The room stifled her. She fetched her cape and hat. They were lying upon +his table, and as she took them she could see the sheets of an unfinished +letter. The writing was firm and fine, with the regular alignment and +spacing of one who is deft about handwork. Her eye glanced over the page; +the letter was in answer to a doctor in Baltimore, who had asked him to +cooperate in preparing a surgical monograph. "I should like extremely to be +with you in this," ran the lines, like the voice of the speaking man, +"but--and the refusal pains me more than you know--I cannot in honesty +undertake the work. I have not suitable conditions. It is eighteen months +since I entered a hospital, and I am behind the times. And, for the +present, I see no prospect of being in a condition to undertake the work. I +advise you to try Muller, or--" There the letter broke off, unfinished. She +raised it to her lips and kissed it. This was another sign, and she would +heed it. To be a full man he must return to the poor average world, or be +less than the trivial people he had always despised. + +When she opened the door, the level rays of the western sun blinded her. +There was no wind. Eastward the purple shadows had thickened, effacing the +line of light along the horizon. The frozen lake stretched, ridged and +furrowed, into the gloom. Toward it she walked,--slowly, irresistibly drawn +by its limitless bosom. + +She had boasted to Miss Hitchcock, "I will take myself out of his life, if +need be." It was not an empty, woman's boast. She was strong enough to do +what she willed. The time had come. She would not see him again. To break +with words the ties between them would but dishonor them both. They must +not discuss this thing. At the shore of the pool where they had put on +their skates in the morning she paused, shaken with a new thought. The +woman would come back on the morrow, and, without one word of denial from +her, would tell him that terrible lie, confirming his old suspicions. She +must see him,--she could not leave him with that foul memory,--and she +returned to the temple in the hope that he was already there. The little +building, however, was empty and desolate, and she sat down by the fire to +wait. + +The story, the denial of it, no longer seemed important. She would write +him what she had to say, and go away. She would tell him that she had not +poisoned her husband like a sick dog, and he would believe the solemn last +words. She took a sheet of paper from his table and wrote hesitatingly: + +"Dear Howard: I am leaving you----forever." Then she began again and again, +but at last she came back to the first words and wrote on desperately: "I +cannot make you understand it all. But one thing I must tell you, and you +must believe it. That horrible woman, Mrs. Ducharme, was here this morning +and told me that I had given opiates to my husband when he was ill in the +cottage, and had killed him, _and that you knew it_. Somehow I +remembered things that made me know you thought so, had always thought so. +Perhaps you will still think it must have been so, her story is so terribly +probable. + +"O Howard, you used to think that it would be right--but I couldn't. I +might have in time, but I couldn't then. I did nothing to hasten his death. +Believe this, if you love me the least. + +"That isn't the sole reason why I leave you. But it is all like that. I +ruin the world for you. Love is not all,--at least for a man,--and somehow +with me you cannot have the rest and love. We were wrong to rebel--I was +wrong to take my happiness. I longed so! I have been so happy! + +"Alves." + +It seemed pitifully inadequate--a few wavering lines--to tell the tale of +the volumes in her heart. But with a sigh she pushed back the chair and +gathered her hat and cape. Once more she hesitated, and seeing that the +fire in the stove was low, replenished it. Then she turned swiftly away, +locked the door,--putting the key where they hid it, in the hollow of a +pillar,--and walked rapidly in the direction of the lake. + +It was already nearly dusk. Little groups of skaters were sauntering +homeward from the lagoons and the patches of inshore ice. The lake was gray +and stern. She gained the esplanade, with a vague purpose of walking into +the city, of taking the train for Wisconsin. But as she passed the long +pier, the desire to walk out on the ice seized her once more. With some +difficulty she gained the black ice after scrambling over the debris piled +high against the beach. When she reached the clear spaces she walked slowly +toward the open lake. The gloom of the winter night was already gathering; +as she passed the head of the pier, a park-guard hailed her, with some +warning cry. She paid no attention, but walked on, slowly picking her way +among the familiar ice hills, in and out of the floes. + +Once beyond the head of the pier she was absolutely alone in the darkening +sea of ice. The cracks and crevasses were no longer steaming; instead, a +thin shell of ice was coating over the open surfaces. But she knew all +these spots and picked her way carefully. The darkness had already +enveloped the shore. Beyond, on all sides, rose small white hills of +drifted ice, making a little arctic ocean, with its own strange solitude, +its majestic distances, its titanic noises; for the fields of ice were +moving in obedience to the undercurrents, the impact from distant northerly +winds. And as they moved, they shrieked and groaned, the thunderous voices +hailing from far up the lake and pealing past the solitary figure to the +black wastes beyond. This tumult of the lake increased in fury, yet with +solemn pauses of absolute silence between the reports. At first Alves stood +still and listened, fearful, but as she became used to the noise, she +walked on calm, courageous, and strangely at peace in the clamor. Once she +faced the land, where the arc lights along the esplanade made blue holes in +the black night. Eastward the radiant line of illumined horizon reappeared, +creating a kind of false daybreak. + +So this was the end as she had wished it--alone in the immensity of the +frozen lake. This was like the true conception of life--one vast, ever +darkening sphere filled with threatening voices, where she and others +wandered in sorrow, in regret, in disappointment, and, also, in joy. Oh! +that redeemed it. Her joy had been so beautiful, so true to the promise of +God in the pitiful heart of man. She said to herself that she had tasted it +without sin, and now had the courage to put it away from her before it +turned to a draught bitter to her and to others. There were more joys in +this life than the fierce love for man: the joy over a child, which had +been given to her and taken away; the joy of triumph, the joy--but why +should she remember the others? Her joy had its own perfection. For all the +tears and waste of living, this one passion had been given--a joy that +warmed her body in the cold gloom of the night. + +There loomed in her path a black wall of broken ice. She drew herself +slowly over the crest of the massed blocks. Beyond lay a pleasant blackness +of clear water, into which she plunged,--still warm with the glow of her +perfect happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Webber had a well-developed case of typhoid, and Sommers had him moved to +St. Isidore's. The doctor accompanied him to the hospital, and once within +the doors of his old home, he lingered chatting with the house physician, +who had graduated from the Philadelphia school shortly after Sommers had +left. The come and go of the place, the air of excitement about the +hospital, stirred Sommers as nothing in months had done. Then the attention +paid him by the internes and the older nurses, who had kept alive in their +busy little world the tradition of his brilliant work, aroused all the +vanity in his nature. When he was about to tear himself away from the +pleasant antiseptic odor and orderly bustle, the house physician pressed +him to stay to luncheon. He yielded, longing to hear the talk about cases, +and remembering with pleasure the unconventional manners and bad food of +the St. Isidore mess-table. After luncheon he was urged to attend an +operation by a well-known surgeon, whose honest work he had always admired. +It was late in the afternoon when he finally started to leave, and then a +nurse brought word that Webber was anxious to see him about some business. +He found Webber greatly excited and worried over money matters. To his +surprise he learned that the foppish, quiet-mannered clerk had been +dabbling in the market. He held some Distillery common stock, and, also, +Northern Iron--two of the new "industrials" that were beginning to sprout +in Chicago. + +"You must ask the brokers to sell if the market is going against me," the +clerk exclaimed feverishly. "Perhaps, if I am to be tied up here a long +time, they'd better sell, anyway." + +"Yes," Sommers assented; "you must get it off your mind." + +So, with a promise to see White and Einstein, the brokers, at once, and +look after the stock, he soothed the sick man. + +"You're a good fellow," Webber sighed. "It's about all I have. I'll tell +you some time why I went in--I had very direct information." + +Sommers cut him short and hastened away. By the time he had found White and +Einstein's office, a little room about as large as a cigar shop in the +basement of a large building on La Salle Street, the place was deserted. A +stenographer told him, with contempt in her voice, that the Exchange had +been closed for two hours. Resolving to return the first thing in the +morning, he started for the temple. He had two visits to make that he had +neglected for Webber's case, but he would wait until the evening and take +Alves with him. He had not seen her for hours. For the first time in months +he indulged himself in a few petty extravagances as he crossed the city to +get his train. The day had excited him, had destroyed the calm of his usual +controlled, plodding habits. The feverish buoyancy of his mood made it +pleasant to thread the chaotic streams of the city streets. It was +intoxicating to rub shoulders with men once more. + +At Sixtieth Street he left the train and strode across the park, his +imagination playing happy, visionary tunes. He would drop in to-morrow at +St. Isidore's on his way back from White and Einstein's. He must see more +of those fellows at Henry's clinic; they seemed a good set. And he was not +sure that he should answer the Baltimore man so flatly. He would write for +further details. When he reached the temple, he found the place closed, and +he thought that Alves had gone to see one of his cases for him. The key was +in its usual hiding-place, and the fire looked as if it had been made +freshly. He had just missed her. So he filled a pipe, and hunted along the +table for the unfinished letter to the Baltimore man. It was blotted, he +noticed, and he would have to copy it in any case. As he laid it aside, his +eyes fell upon a loose sheet of note-paper covered with Alves's unfamiliar +writing. He took it up and read it, and then looked around him to see her, +to find her there in the next room. The letter was so unreal! + +"Alves!" he called out, the pleasant glow of hope fading in his heart. How +he had forgotten her! She must be suffering so much! Mechanically he put on +his hat and coat and left the temple, hiding the key in the pillar. She +could not have been gone long,--the room had the air of her having just +left it. He should surely find her nearby; he must find her. Whipped by the +intolerable imagination of her suffering, he passed swiftly down the sandy +path toward the electric lights, that were already lamping silently along +the park esplanade. He chose this road, unconsciously feeling that she +would plunge out that way. What had the Ducharme woman said? What had made +her take this harsh step, macerating herself and him just as they were +beginning to breathe without fear? He sped on, into the gullies by the +foundations of the burnt buildings, up to the new boulevard. After one +moment of irresolution he turned to the right, to the lake. That icy sea +had fascinated her so strongly! He shivered at the memory of her words. +Once abreast of the pier he did not pause, but swiftly clambered out over +the ice hills and groped his way along the black piles of the pier. The +vastness of the field he had to search! But he would go, even across the +floes of ice to the Michigan shore. He was certain that she was out there, +beyond in the black night, in the gloom of the rending ice. + +Suddenly, as he neared the end of the pier, the big form of a man, bearing, +dragging a burden, loomed up out of the dark expanse. It came nearer, and +Sommers could make out the uniform of a park-guard. He was half-carrying, +half-dragging the limp form of a woman. Sommers tried to hail him, but he +could not cry. At last the guard called out when he was within a few feet: + +"Give me a hand, will you. It's a woman,--suicide, I guess," he added more +gently. + +Sommers walked forward and took the limp form. The drenched garments were +already frosting in the cold. He turned the flap of the cape back from the +face. + +"It is my wife," he said quietly. + +"I saw her from the pier goin' out, and I called to her," the guard +replied, "but she kept on all the faster. Then I went back to the shore and +got on the ice and followed her as fast as I could, but--" + +Together they lifted her and carried her in over the rough shore ice up to +the esplanade. + +"We live over there." Sommers pointed in the direction of the temple. The +man nodded; he seemed to know the young doctor. + +"I shall not need your help," Sommers continued, wrapping the stiff cape +about the yielding form. He took her gently in his arms, staggered under +the weight, then started slowly along the esplanade. The guard followed for +a few steps; but as the doctor seemed able to carry his burden alone, he +turned back toward the city. + +Sommers walked on slowly. The stiff cape slipped back from Alves's head, +revealing in the blue electric light the marble-white pallor of the flesh, +the closed eyes. Sommers stopped to kiss the cold face, and with the +movement Alves's head nestled forward against his hot neck. Tears rose to +his eyes and fell against her cheek; he started on once more, tracing +carefully the windings of the path. + + * * * * * + +So this was the end! The little warmth and love of his cherishing arms +about her cold body completed the pittance of happiness she had craved. + +The story was too dark for him to comprehend now--from that first +understanding moment in St. Isidore's receiving room to this. Here was his +revolt, in one cold burden of dead love. She had left him in some delusion +that it would be better thus, that by this means he would find his way, +free and unshackled, back to the world of his fellows. And, perhaps, like a +creature of love, she had blindly felt love's slow, creeping paralysis, +love's ultimate death. Even now, as he staggered along the lighted avenue +of the park, in the silence of death and of night, that pregnant reproach +oppressed his heart. He had not loved her enough! She had felt a wall that +was building impalpably between them, a division of thought and of feeling. +She had put her arms against his man's world of secret ambition and desire +and had found it cold. + +She had struggled for her bit of happiness, poor, loving woman! She had +suffered under her past error, her marriage with Preston, and had endured, +until, suddenly relieved, she had embraced her happiness, only to find it +slowly vanishing in her warm hands. He had suspected her of grasping this +happiness without scruple, clamorously; but her sweet white lips spoke out +the falseness of this accusation. It was bitter to know that he had covered +her with this secret suspicion. He owed her a sea of pardons! + +So he labored on into the dark stretches of the park, among the debris of +the devastated buildings, up the little sandy hills, out of the park to the +lonely temple. Already his self-reproach seemed trivial. He knew how little +his concealed suspicions had to do with bringing about this catastrophe. +That misunderstanding was but a drop in the stream of fate, which was all +too swift for her strength. He paused at the last turn of the road and +rested, settling his burden more closely in his arms, drawing her to him in +the unavailing embrace of regret. Another kind of life, he said,--some +average marriage with children and home would have given her more fully the +human modicum of joy. But his heart rejected also this reproach. In no +other circumstance could he place her justly. She was so amply made for +joy--so strong to love, to endure; so true to the eternal passions. But not +mere household love, the calm minutes of interlude in the fragments of a +busy day! They would not satisfy the deep thirst for love in her heart. He +had given the best he had--all, nearly all, as few men could give, as most +men never give. He must content himself there. + +He started again and strode on to the end of the journey. Within the temple +he placed her on their bed, taking off her stiff clothes and preparing her +for sleep. Then he remade the fire, and opening a window for the low night +wind to draw across her face as she liked to have it, he sat down for his +vigil. + +Yes, it was the end! It was the end of his little personal battle with the +world, the end of judging and striving, the end of revolt. He should live +on, strangely enough, into many years, but not as they had tried to live in +self-made isolation. He should return to that web of life from which they +had striven to extricate themselves. She bade him go back to that fretwork, +unsolvable world of little and great, of domineering and incompetent wills, +of the powerful rich struggling blindly to dominate and the weak poor +struggling blindly to keep their lives: the vast web of petty greeds and +blind efforts. He should return, but humbly, with the crude dross of his +self-will burnt out. They had rebelled together; they had had their wills +to themselves; and that was ended. It could not have been otherwise. They +could never have known each other in the world; they had to withdraw +themselves apart. He looked at her afresh, lying on the pillow by his side, +her hair twining carelessly about the white arm. She was infinitely greater +than he,--so undivided and complete a soul! She had left him for the +commoner uses of life. And all the stains of their experience had been +removed, washed out by the pure accomplishment of her end. + +Already so cold, so sweetly distant, that face,--so done with life and with +him! He leaned over it and burst into tears. The dream of the summer night +had passed away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mrs. Ducharme returned to the temple at an early hour the next morning. +Sommers saw her mumbling to herself as she came across the park. Before she +knocked, he opened the door; she started back in fear of the sombre, +bearded face with the blood-shot eyes that seemed lying in wait for her. + +"Is the missus at home?" she murmured, drawing back from the door. + +"Come in," the doctor ordered. + +As soon as she entered, Sommers locked the door. + +"Now," he said quietly, pointing to a chair, "the whole story and no lies." + +The woman looked at the doctor and trembled; then she edged toward the +inner door. Sommers locked this, flung the key on the table, and pointed +again to the chair. + +"What did you tell her yesterday?" he demanded. + +Mrs. Ducharme began an incoherent tale about her head hurting her, about +the sin which the "healer" commanded her to rid her conscience of. Sommers +interrupted her. + +"Answer my questions. Did you threaten _her_?" + +The woman nodded her head. + +"Did you accuse her of drugging her husband?" + +She nodded her head again reluctantly; then cried out,--"Let me go! I'll +have the police on you two." + +Sommers stood over the woman as if he were about to lay hands on her. + +"You know the facts. Tell them. What happened to Preston that day?" + +"He'd been drinking." + +"You got him the liquor?" + +She nodded. + +"Then you gave him a powder from that box in Mrs. Preston's room?" + +The woman looked terrified, and did not answer. + +"If you don't tell me every word of truth," Sommers said, slowly drawing a +little syringe from his pocket, "you will never see anything again." + +"Yes, I gave him a powder." + +"One?" + +She nodded, her hands shaking. + +"Two?" + +"Yes," she gasped. "I was afraid Mrs. Preston would find out what I had +done, and one powder wasn't enough, didn't keep him quiet. So I put two +more in--thought it wouldn't do no harm. Then I guess Mrs. Preston gave him +some, when she came in. But you can't touch me," she added impudently. "The +healer said you had done a criminal act in signing that certificate. You +and she better look out." + + +Sommers stepped across the room and opened the inner door. Mrs. Ducharme +gave one glance at the silent figure and shrieked: + +"You killed her! You killed her! Let me out!" + +Sommers closed the door softly and returned to the shrieking creature. + + +"Keep quiet," Sommers ordered sternly, "while I think what to do with you." + +She held her tongue and sat as still as her quaking nerves permitted. +Sommers reviewed rapidly the story as he had made it out. At first it +occurred to him, as it had to Alves, that the woman had been drinking. But +his practised eyes saw more surely than Alves, and he judged that her +conduct had been the result of mental derangement. Probably the blow over +the eye, from which she was suffering when she came to Lindsay's office, +had hurt the brain. Otherwise, she would not have been silly enough to go +to Alves with her foolish story. It was possible, also, that the night of +Preston's death she had not known what she was doing. His resentment gave +place to disgust. The sole question was what to do with her. She would +talk, probably, and in some way he must avoid that danger for a few days, +at least. Then it would not matter to Alves or to him what she said. + +Finally he turned to the miserable, shaking figure, and said sternly: + +"You have committed one murder, and, perhaps, two. But I will not kill you +_now_, or put out your eyes, unless you get troublesome. Have you any +money? I thought not. You are going with me to the railroad station, where +I shall buy you a ticket." + +He unlocked the door and motioned to the woman. She followed him to the +station without protest, fascinated by his strong will. Sommers bought a +ticket to St. Louis and handed it to her with a dollar. + +"Remember, if I see or hear of you again,"--he put his finger in his +waistcoat pocket, significantly. "And there are other powders," he added +grimly. + +"Ducharme has gone back to Peory. I s'pose I can stop off there?" she asked +timidly, as the express arrived. + +"You can stop off anywhere on your way to hell," the doctor replied +indifferently. "But keep away from Chicago. There is no quicker way of +making that journey to hell than to come back here." + +Mrs. Ducharme trembled afresh and bundled herself on board the train. + +Sommers returned to the temple, feeling assured that the next few hours +would not be disturbed by the ill-omened creature. This vulgar, brutal act +had to be performed; he had been preparing himself for it since daylight, +when his mind had resumed the round of cause and effect that answers for +life. It was over now, and he could return to Alves. There were other petty +things to be done, but not yet. As he came across the park he noticed that +the door of the temple was open. Some one had entered while he was away. At +his step on the portico a figure rose from the inner room and came to meet +him. It was Louise Hitchcock. The traces of tears lay on her face. + +"I knew this morning," she said gently. "I thought you might be alone--and +so I came." + +"Sit down," Sommers replied wearily. In a few moments he added, "I suppose +you saw it in the papers--the guard must have told. Strange! that even in +death the world must meddle with her, the world that cared nothing for +her." + +"I am sorry." Miss Hitchcock blushed as she spoke. "I will go away--I +didn't mean to intrude--I thought--" + +"No, don't go! I didn't mean you. I wanted to be alone, all alone for a +little while, but I am glad now that you came, that you cared to come. You +didn't know Alves." + +"She wouldn't let me know her," Miss Hitchcock protested gently. + +"Yes, I remember. You see, our life was peculiar. I think Alves was afraid +of you, of all the world." + +"I knew how you loved her," Miss Hitchcock exclaimed irrelevantly. + +Sommers tried to answer. He felt like talking to this warm-hearted woman; +he wanted to talk, but he could not phrase the complex feeling in his +heart. Everything about Alves had something in it he could not make +another, even the most sympathetic soul in the world, understand. It was +like trying to explain an impression of a whole life. + +"There is so much I can't tell any one," he said at last, with a wan smile. +"Don't misunderstand--you'd have to know the whole, and I couldn't begin to +make you know it." + +"Don't try," she said, tears coming to her eyes. "I know that it has been +noble and generous--on both sides," she added. + +"It has ended," he answered drearily. "I don't know where to begin." + +"Can't I send for some one, some friend?" she suggested. + +"I haven't any friend," he replied absently. "And Alves wouldn't want any +one. She would have done everything for me. I will do everything for her." + +"Then I will stay here, while you are away," Miss Hitchcock replied +quickly. "Don't hurry. I will wait here in this room." + +Sommers thought a moment and then answered gently: +"I think not. I think Alves would rather be alone. Let me go back to the +city with you. I have some errands there." + +Miss Hitchcock's face expressed her disappointment. She had triumphed +impulsively over so many conventions in coming to him unasked that she felt +doubly hurt. + +"Very well. Only you will not always put me outside, in this way?" she +implored, bravely stifling her pride. "It will not be so easy to say it +later, and it will hurt if you refuse to have anything to do with my father +and me." + +"_I_ shall not refuse," Sommers responded warmly. "I am grateful for +what you want to do." + +"You know--" She completed the sentence with a sigh and prepared to +accompany him. Sommers locked the door, putting the key in the usual +hiding-place, and together they crossed the park to the railroad station. +There they separated. + +"I shall not come out to-morrow," Miss Hitchcock said, as if she had +arrived at the decision after some wavering. + +He did not urge her to come, and they shook hands. + +"Remember," she said hesitatingly, "that ideas don't separate people. You +must _trust_ people, those who understand and care." + +"I shan't forget," he answered humbly. + +On the train he remembered Webber's business, and as soon as he reached the +city he went to the brokers' office. The morning session of the Exchange +had just closed, and Einstein was fluttering in and out of his private +office, sending telegrams and telephone messages. Sommers got his ear for a +moment and explained his errand. + +"I don't know anything about the stocks," he concluded. "But I think you +had best close his account, as it will be some weeks before he should be +troubled with such things." + +"Damn shame!" Einstein remarked irritably, removing his cigar from his +mouth. "I could have got him out even this morning. Now, it's too late." + +As Sommers seemed ignorant of the market, the broker went on to explain, +meanwhile sending a telegram: + +"Most of his is Consolidated Iron--one of Carson's new promotions. Porter +is in it, and a lot of big men. Splendid thing, but these new industrials +are skittish as colts, and the war talk is like an early frost. Yesterday +it was up to ninety, but to-day, after that Venezuelan business in the +Senate, it backed down ten points. That about cleans our friend out." + +"He doesn't own the stock, then?" Sommers asked. + +Einstein looked at the doctor pityingly. + +"He's taken a block of two hundred on margins. We hold some Baking Powder +common for him, too. But he owns that." + +Sommers lingered about, irresolute. He didn't like to take the +responsibility of selling out Webber, nor the equal responsibility of doing +nothing. Miss M'Gann's hopes, he reflected, hung on this stock trade. + +"What is the prospect to-morrow?" Sommers asked timidly. He felt out of +place in all the skurry of the brokers' office, where men were drinking in +the last quotations as the office boy scratched them on the board. + +"Dunno. Can't tell. Good, if the Senate doesn't shoot off its mouth any +more." + +"How much is Webber margined for?" + +"Say, Phil," Einstein sang out to his partner, who came out from another +cubbyhole, "how much has Webber on Iron?" + +"Six points," White replied. He nodded to Sommers. The doctor remembered +White as one of the negative figures of his early months in Chicago,--a +smiling, slim, youthful college boy. Evidently he was the genteel member of +the firm. Sommers thought again. He could not wait. "Will you carry him +five points more?" he asked. + +"Can you put up the money?" White replied indifferently. + +"No," the doctor admitted. "But I will try to get it at once." + +Einstein shook his head. But White asked, good-naturedly, "Are you sure?" + +"I think so," the doctor replied. + +"Well, that'll tide him over; the market is sure to go back next week." + +Sommers escaped from the heated room with its noise and jostling men. He +realized vaguely that he had made himself responsible for a thousand +dollars--foolishly, he thought now. He had done it on the spur of the +moment, with the idea that he would save Webber from a total loss, and +thereby save Miss M'Gann. He felt partly responsible, too; for if he had +not lingered at St. Isidore's yesterday, he could have delivered the order +before the reaction had set in. He wondered, however, at his ready promise +to find the thousand dollars for the extra margin. As he had told Miss +Hitchcock, he had not a friend in the world to whom he could apply for +help. Even the last duties to Alves he must perform alone, and to those he +turned himself now. + +As he passed the Athenian Building, he remembered Dr. Leonard and went up +to his office. The old dentist was the one friend in Chicago whom Alves +would want near her to-morrow. Dr. Leonard came frowning out of his office, +and without asking Sommers to sit down listened to what he had to say. + +"Yes," he replied, without unwrinkling his old face, "I saw it in the +papers. I'll come, of course I'll come. I set an awful store by Alves, poor +girl! There weren't nothing right for her in this world. Maybe there will +be in the next." + +Sommers made no reply. He felt the kind old dentist's reproach. + +"Young feller," the dentist exclaimed sharply as Sommers turned to go, "I +mistrust you have much to answer for in that poor girl's case. Does your +heart satisfy you that you have treated her right?" + +Sommers bowed his head humbly before this blunt speech. In the sense that +Dr. Leonard meant, perhaps, he was not guilty, but in other ways he was not +sure. It was a difficult thing to treat any human soul justly and tenderly. +The doctor took his silence for confession. + +"Well," he added, turning away and adjusting his spectacles that were +lodged above his watery blue eyes, "I ain't no call to blame you. It's +enough blame anyway to have hurt _her_--there wasn't a nicer woman +ever born." + +As Sommers left the Athenian Building, his mind reverted to the talk with +the brokers. He was glad that he had undertaken to save Webber from his +loss. Alves would have liked it. Miss M'Gann had been kind to her when she +was learning how to teach. Probably Webber would lose the money in some +other venture, but he would do what he could to save the clerk's little +capital now. Where could he get the money? There was but one person on whom +he could call, and overcoming his dislike of the errand he went at once to +Miss Hitchcock. + +The house was pleasantly familiar. As he waited for Miss Hitchcock in the +little library that belonged especially to her, he could detect no changes +in the conglomerate furnishing of the house. He had half expected to find +that it had yielded to the younger generation, but something had arrested +the march of innovation. The steel engravings still hung in the hall, and +the ugly staircase had not been reformed. Colonel Hitchcock came into the +house, and without looking into the study went upstairs. Sommers started to +intercept him in the hall, but restrained the impulse. Miss Hitchcock +appeared in a few moments, advancing to greet him with a frank smile, as if +it were the most natural thing to meet him there. + +"I have come to ask you to do something for me," Sommers began at once, +still standing, "because, as I told you, I have no one else to ask for +help." + +"You take the bloom off kindnesses in a dreadfully harsh way," Miss +Hitchcock responded sadly. + +"But it's something one doesn't usually ask of a young woman," Sommers +added. He told her briefly the circumstances that led to his visit. "I +haven't literally any friend of whom I could properly ask five cents." + +"Don't say that. It sounds so forlorn!" + +"Does it? I never thought about it before. I suppose it is a reflection +upon a man that at thirty-three he hasn't any one in the world to ask a +favor of. It looks as if he had lived a pretty narrow life." + +"Hard, not narrow," Miss Hitchcock interposed quickly. "I will send the +money to-morrow. John will take it to the brokers, if you will write them a +note." + +As he still stood, she went on, to avoid the awkward silence: "Those horrid +industrials! I am sure Uncle Brome will lose everything in them. He's a +born gambler. Mr. Carson has got him interested in these new things." + +"Is his picture still on exhibition?" Sommers inquired, with a faint smile. + +"I don't know. I haven't seen much of them lately." She spoke as if Carson +and his kind were completely indifferent to her. Her next remark surprised +Sommers. + +"I think I can see now why you felt as you did about--well, Mr. Carson. He +is a sort of shameless ideal held up before such people as this young man +who is speculating. Isn't that it?" + +Sommers nodded. + +"Uncle Brome, too? When he makes several hundred thousand dollars in +Consolidated Iron, every clerk, every little man who knows anything about +it has all his bad, greedy, envious passions aroused." + +The doctor smiled at the serious manner in which the young woman explored +the old ground of their differences. + +"But," she concluded, "they aren't _all_ like Mr. Carson and Uncle +Brome. You mustn't make that mistake. And Uncle Brome is so generous, too. +It is hard to understand." + +"No," Sommers said, preparing to leave. "Of course they are not all alike, +and it is hard to judge. No man knows what he is doing--to any great +extent." + +"What will you do?" Miss Hitchcock asked abruptly. + +As Sommers's careworn face flushed, she added hurriedly,--"How cruel of me! +Of course you don't know. That will settle itself." + +"I have had some notion of trying for a hospital again. It doesn't take +much to live. And I don't believe in a doctor's making money. If it isn't +the hospital--well, there's enough to do." + +Miss Hitchcock thought a moment, and then remarked unexpectedly, "I like +that idea!" + +"About all my kick over things has come to that point. There are some +people who should be willing to--no, not willing, who should _want_ to +do things without any pay. The world needs them. Most people are best off +in the struggle for bread, but the few who see how--unsatisfying that end +is, should be willing to work without profits. Good-by." + +As they shook hands, Sommers added casually: "I shouldn't wonder if I went +away from Chicago--for a time. I don't know now, but I'll let you know, if +you care to have me." + +"Of course I shall care to know!" + +Miss Hitchcock's voice trembled, and then steadied itself, as she +added,--"And I am glad you are thinking of it." + + * * * * * + +With a sense of relief Sommers found himself alone, and free to return to +the temple, to Alves, for the last time. The day had been crowded with +insistent, petty details, and he marvelled that he had submitted to them +patiently. In the chamber where the dead woman lay it was strangely +still--deserted by all things human. He locked the doors and sat down for +his second night of watch, reproaching himself for the hours he had lost +this day. But when he looked at the cold, white face upon the pillow, that +already seemed the face of one who had travelled far from this life, he +felt that it had been best as it was. He kissed the silent lips and covered +the face; he would not look at it again. Alves had gone. To-morrow he would +lay this body in the little burial plot of the seminary above the Wisconsin +lakes. + +Already Alves had bequeathed him something of herself. She had returned him +to his fellow-laborers with a new feeling toward them, a humbleness he had +never known, a desire to adjust himself with them. He was sensitive to the +kindness of the day,--White's friendly trust, Leonard's just words, Miss +Hitchcock's generosity. As the sense of this life faded from the woman he +loved, the dawn of a fairer day came to him. And his heart ached because +she for whom he had desired every happiness might never respond to human +joy. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +During the next two years the country awoke from its torpor, feeling the +blood tingle in its strong limbs once more, and rubbing its eyes in wonder +at its own folly. Some said the spirit of hope was due to the gold basis; +some said it was the good crops; some said it was the prospect of national +expansion. In any event the country got tired of its long fit of sulks; +trade revived, railroads set about mending their tracks, mills opened--a +current of splendid vitality began to throb. Men took to their business +with renewed avidity, content to go their old ways, to make new snares and +to enter them, all unconscious of any mighty purpose. Those at the faro +tables of the market increased the stakes and opened new tables. New +industrial companies sprung up overnight like mushrooms, watered and sunned +by the easy optimism of the hour. The rumors of war disturbed this hothouse +growth. But the "big people" took advantage of these to squeeze the "little +people," and all worked to the glory of the great god. In the breast of +every man on the street was seated one conviction: 'This is a mighty +country, and I am going to get something out of it.' The stock market might +bob up and down; the gamblers might gain or lose their millions; the little +politicians of the hour might talk blood and iron by the pound of +_Congressional Record_; but the great fact stared you in the +face--every one was hopeful; for every one there was much good money +somewhere. It was a rich time in which to live. + +Remote echoes of this optimism reached Sommers. He learned, chiefly through +the newspapers, that Mr. R. G. Carson had emerged from the obscurity of +Chicago and had become a celebrity upon the metropolitan stage after "the +successful flotation of several specialties." Mr. Brome Porter, he gathered +from the same source, had built himself a house in New York, and altogether +shaken the dust of Chicago from his feet. Sommers passed him occasionally +in the unconsolidated air of Fifth Avenue, but the young doctor had long +since sunk out of Brome Porter's sphere of consciousness. Sommers thought +Porter betrayed his need of Carlsbad more than ever, and he wondered if the +famous gambler had beguiled Colonel Hitchcock into any of his ventures. But +Sommers did not trouble himself seriously with the new manifestations of +gigantic greed. Unconscious of the fact that from collar-button to +shoe-leather he was assisting Mr. Carson's industries to yield revenues on +their water-logged stocks, he went his way in his profession and labored. +For the larger part of the time he was an assistant in a large New York +hospital, where he found enough hard work to keep his thoughts from +wandering to Carson, Brome Porter, and Company. In the feverish days that +preceded the outbreak of the Cuban war, he heard rumors that Porter had +been caught in the last big "flotation," and was heavily involved. But the +excitement of those days destroyed the importance of the news to the public +and to him. + +Sommers resolved to find service in one of the military hospitals that +before long became notorious as pestholes. From the day he arrived at +Tampa, he found enough to tax all his energies in trying to save the lives +of raw troops dumped in the most unsanitary spots a paternal government +could select. In the melee created by incompetent officers and ignorant +physicians, one single-minded man could find all the duties he craved. +Toward the close of the war, on the formation of a new typhoid hospital, +Sommers was put in charge. There one day in the heat of the fight with +disease and corruption he discovered Parker Hitchcock, who had enlisted, +partly as a frolic, an excuse for throwing off the ennui of business, and +partly because his set were all going to Cuba. Young Hitchcock had come +down with typhoid while waiting in Tampa for a transport, and had been left +in Sommers's camp. He greeted the familiar face of the doctor with a +welcome he had never given it in Chicago. + +"Am I going to die in this sink, doctor?" he asked, when Sommers came back +to him in the evening. + +"I can't say," the doctor replied, with a smile. "You are a good deal +better off on this board floor than most of the typhoids in the camps, and +we will do the best we can. Shall I let your people know?" + +"No," the young fellow said slowly, his weak, white face endeavoring to +restrain the tears. "The old man is in a bad place--Uncle Brome, you +know--and I guess if it hadn't been for my damn foolishness in New York--" + +He went off into delirious inconsequence, and on the way back Sommers +stopped to telegraph Miss Hitchcock. A few days later he met her at the +railroad station, and drove her over to the camp. She was worn from her +hurried journey, and looked older than Sommers expected; but the buoyancy +and capability of her nature seemed indomitable. Sommers repeated to her +what Parker had said about not letting his people know. + +"It's the first time he ever thought of poor papa," she said bluntly. + +"I thought it might do him good to fight it out by himself. But loneliness +kills some of these fellows." + +"Poor Parker!" she exclaimed, with a touch of irony in her tone. "He +thought he should come home a hero, with flags flying, all the honors of +the season, and forgiveness for his little faults. The girls would pet him, +and papa would overlook his past. The war was a kind of easy penance for +all his sins. And he never reached Cuba even, but came down with +typhoid--due to pure carelessness, I am afraid." + +"That is a familiar story," the doctor observed, with a grim smile, +"especially in his set. They took the war as a kind of football match--and +it is just as well they did." + +"You are the ones that really know what it means--the doctors and the +nurses," Miss Hitchcock said warmly. + +"Here is our San Juan," Sommers replied dryly, pointing to the huddle of +tents and pine sheds that formed the hospital camp. + +After they had visited Parker Hitchcock, Sommers conducted her over the +camp. Some of the cots were occupied by gaunt figures of men whom she had +known, and at the end of their inspection, she remarked thoughtfully: + +"I see that there is something to do here. It makes me feel alive once +more." + +The next month, while Parker dragged slowly through the stages of the +disease, Miss Hitchcock worked energetically with the nurses. Sommers met +her here and there about the camp and at their hurried meals. The heat and +the excitement told upon her, but her spirited, good-humored mood, which +was always at play, carried her on. Finally, the convalescents were sent +north to cooler spots, and the camp was closed. Parker Hitchcock was well +enough to be moved to Chicago, and Sommers, who had been relieved, took +charge of him and a number of other convalescents, who were to return to +the West. + +The last hours of the journey Sommers and Miss Hitchcock spent together. +The train was slowly traversing the dreary stretches of swamp and +sand-hills of northern Indiana. + +"I remember how forlorn this seemed the other time--four years ago!" +Sommers exclaimed. "And how excited I was as the city came into view around +the curve of the lake. That was to be my world." + +"And you didn't find it to your liking," Miss Hitchcock replied, with a +little smile. + +"I couldn't understand it; the thing was like raw spirits. It choked you." + +"I think I understand now what the matter has always been," she resumed +after a little interval. "You thought we were all exceptionally selfish, +but we were all just like every one else,--running after the obvious, +common pleasures. What could you expect! Every boy and girl in this country +is told from the first lesson of the cradle, over and over, that success is +the one great and good thing in life. The people here are young and strong, +and you can't blame them if they interpret that text a little crudely. But +I am beginning to understand what you feel." + +"We can't escape the fact, though," Sommers responded. "Life must be based, +to a large extent, on gain, on mere living. Nature has ordered it." + +"Only in cases like yours," she murmured. "_I_ can never free myself +from the order of nature. I shall always be the holder of power accumulated +by some one else." + +As Sommers refrained from making the platitudinous reply that such a remark +seemed to demand, they were silent for several minutes. Then she asked, +with an air of constraint: + +"What will you do? I mean after your visit to us, for, of course, you must +rest." + +Sommers smiled ironically. + +"That is the question every one asks. 'What will you do? what will you do?' +Suppose I should say _'Nothing'_? We are always planning. No one is +ready to wait and turn his hand to the nearest job. To-morrow, next month, +in good time, I shall know what that is." + +"It puts out of the question a career, personal ambition." + +"Yes," he answered quickly. "And could you do that? Could you care for a +man who will have no career, who has no 'future'?" + +Sommers's voice had taken a new tone of earnestness, unlike the sober +speculation in which they had been indulging. Miss Hitchcock turned her +face to the faded landscape of the suburban fields, and failed to reply. + +"I have lived out my egotism," he continued earnestly. "What you would call +ambition has been dead for long months. I haven't any lofty ambition even +for scientific work. Good results, even there, it seems to me, are not born +of personal desire, of pride. I am content to be a failure--an honest +failure," he ended sharply. + +"Don't say that!" she protested, looking at him frankly. "I shall never +agree to that." + +The people around them began to bestir themselves with the nervous +restlessness of pent-up energy. Parker Hitchcock came into the car from the +smoking-room. + +"We can get off at Twenty-second Street," he called out eagerly. "You're +coming, doctor?" + +Sommers shook his head negatively, and Miss Hitchcock, who was putting on +her veil, did not urge him to join them. The Hitchcock carriage was waiting +outside the Twenty-second Street station, and, as the train moved on, +Sommers could see Colonel Hitchcock's bent figure through the open window. + +When Sommers left the train at the central station, the September twilight +had already fallen; and as he crossed the strip of park where the troops +had bivouacked during the strike, the encircling buildings were brilliantly +outlined in the evening mist by countless points of light. The scene from +Twelfth Street north to the river, flanked by railroad yards and grim +buildings, was an animated circle of a modern inferno. The cross streets +intersecting the lofty buildings were dim, canon-like abysses, in which +purple fog floated lethargically. The air was foul with the gas from +countless locomotives, and thick with smoke and the mist of the lake. And +through this earthy steam, the myriad lights from the facades of the big +buildings shone with suffused splendor. It was large and vague and, above +all, gay, with the grim vivacity of a city of shades. Streams of people +were flowing toward the railroad, up and down the boulevard, in and out of +the large hotels. A murmur of living, striving humanity rose into the murky +air; and from a distance, through the abysses of the cross streets, sounded +the deeper roar of the city. + +The half-forgotten note of the place struck sharply upon the doctor's ear. +It excited him in some strange way. Two years had dropped from his life, +and again he was turning, turning, with the beat of the great machine. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +"Yes, he lost that--what was left when you sold for him," Miss M'Gann +admitted dejectedly. "And so we had to start over again. Part of it was +mine, too." + +"Did he put your savings in?" Sommers asked incredulously. + +"It was that Dresser man. I wish we'd never laid eyes on him--he kept +getting tips from Carson, the man who owned most of his paper. I guess +Carson didn't take much interest in giving _him_ the right tip, or +perhaps Dresser didn't give _us_ what he knew straight out. Anyway, +Jack's been losing!" + +"So you aren't married?" Sommers asked. + +"Jack's pride is up. You see he wanted to begin with a nice flat, not live +on here in this boarding-house. And I was to leave the school. But I guess +there isn't much chance _now_. You've been away a long time--to the +war?" + +They were sitting on the steps of the Keystone, which at this hour in the +morning they had to themselves. Miss M'Gann's glory of dress had faded, +together with the volubility of her talk, and the schoolroom air had +blanched her high color. + +"Jack wanted to go off to Cuba," she continued. "But he got sick again, +worrying over stocks, and I guess it was just as well. If he don't keep +straight now, and brace up, I'll let him go. I'm not the one to hang around +all my life for a silly." + +"Perhaps that's what made him try the market again," Sommers suggested. + +"No, it was Dresser. He was sporting a lot of money and going with +high-toned folks, and it made Jack envious." + +"You had better marry him, hadn't you?" + +Miss M'Gann moved uneasily on the stone seat. + +"He's down there again to-day, I just know. He's given up the Baking Powder +place,--they crowded him out in the reorganization,--and Dresser got him a +place down town." + +"Do you mean he's at the broker's?" + +Miss M'Gann nodded and then added: + +"Do you remember Dr. Leonard? Well, he made a pile out of a trust, some +dentist-tools combine, I think." + +"I am glad of it," Sommers said heartily, "and I hope he'll keep it." + +"Are you going to stay in Chicago?" Miss M'Gann asked, with renewed +curiosity. "We shall be glad to see you at the Keystone." + +Sommers got up to leave, and asked for Webber's address in the city. "I may +look him up," he explained. "I wish you could keep him away from Dresser. +The converted socialist is likely to be a bad lot." + +"Socialist!" Miss M'Gann exclaimed disdainfully. "He isn't any socialist. +He's after a rich girl." + + * * * * * + +Sommers left Miss M'Gann with a half-defined purpose of finding Webber and +inducing him to give up the vain hope of rivalling the editor of _The +Investor's Monthly_. He had always liked the clerk, and when he had +helped to pull him out of the market without loss before, he had thought +all would go well. But the optimism of the hour had proved too much for +Webber's will. Carson's cheap and plentiful stocks had made it dangerously +easy for every office boy to "invest." If Webber had been making money +these last months, it would be useless to advise him; but if the erratic +market had gone against him, he might be saved. + +On the way to the city he called at St. Isidore's to see if any one in that +hive would remember him. The little nurse, whom he recalled as one of the +assistants at Preston's operation, had now attained the dignity of the +"black band." There was hardly any one else who knew him, except the +elevator boy; and he was leaving when he met Dr. Knowles, an old physician, +who had a large, old-fashioned family practice in an unfashionable quarter +of the city. Dr. Knowles had once been kind to the younger doctor, and now +he seemed glad to meet him again. From him Sommers learned that Lindsay had +about given up his practice. The "other things," thanks to his intimacy +with Porter, and more lately with Carson, had put him outside the petty +needs of professional earnings. Dr. Knowles himself was thinking of +retiring, he told Sommers, not with his coffers full of trust certificates, +but with a few thousand dollars, enough to keep him beyond want. They +talked for a long time, and at the end Dr. Knowles asked Sommers to +consider taking over his practice. "It isn't very swell," he explained +good-humoredly. "And I don't want you to kill off my poor patients. But +there are enough pickings for a reasonable man who doesn't practise for +money." Sommers promised to see him in a few days, and started for the +office where Webber worked. + +Lindsay's final success amused him. He had heard a good deal about Porter +and Carson; their operations, reported vaguely by the public, interested +him. They formed a kind of partnership, evidently. Porter "financed" the +schemes that Carson concocted and talked into being. And a following of +small people gleaned in their train. Lindsay probably had gleaned more than +the others. It was all the better, Sommers reflected, for the state of the +medical profession. + +As he sauntered down La Salle Street, the air of the pavement breathed the +optimism of the hour. Sommers was amazed at the number of brokers' offices, +at the streams of men going and coming around these busy booths. The war +was over, or practically over, and speculation was brisker than ever. To be +sure, the bills for the war were not paid, but success was in the air, and +every one was striving to exploit that success in his own behalf. Sommers +passed the blazing sign of WHITE AND EINSTEIN; the firm had taken larger +offices this year. Sommers stopped and looked at the broad windows, and +then, reflecting that he had nothing to do before dining with the +Hitchcocks except to see Webber, he went in with a file of other men. + +White and Einstein's offices were much more resplendent than the little +room in the basement, where they had started two years before. There were +many glass partitions and much mahogany-stained furniture. In the large +room, where the quotations were posted, little rows of chairs were ranged +before the blackboards, so that the weary patrons could sit and watch the +game. The Chicago stocks had a blackboard to themselves, and this was +covered with the longest lines of figures. Iron, Steel, Tobacco, Radiators, +Vinegar, Oil, Leather, Spices, Tin, Candles, Biscuit, Rag,--the names of +the "industrials" read like an inventory of a country store. "Rag" seemed +the favorite of the hour; one boy was kept busy in posting the long line of +quotations from the afternoon session of the Exchange. A group of +spectators watched the jumps as quotation varied from quotation under the +rapid chalk of the office boy. + +The place was feverish with excitement, which Sommers could feel rather +than read in the dull faces of the men. From time to time White or Einstein +bobbed out of an inner office, or a telephone booth, and joined the +watchers before the blackboards. Their detached air and genial smiles gave +them the appearance of successful hosts. White recognized Sommers and +nodded, with one eye on the board. "Rag's acting queer," he said casually +in the doctor's ear. "Are you in the market? Rag is Carson's latest--ain't +gone through yet, and there are signs the market's glutted. Look at that +thing slide, waltz! Gee, there'll be sore heads to-morrow!" + +Sommers leaned forward and touched Webber, who, with open mouth, was +following the figures. Webber turned round, but his head went back to the +board. The glance he had given was empty--the glance of the drunkard. + +"Your young friend's got hit," White remarked apathetically. "He shouldn't +try to play marbles with _this_ crowd. Carson is just chucking new +stocks at the public. But he has a clique with him that can do anything." + +In spite of this opinion "Rag" tottered and wavered. Rumors rapidly spread +among the onlookers that Carson had failed to put "Rag" through; that the +consolidated companies would fall asunder on the morrow, like badly glued +veneer; that Porter "had gone back on Carson" and was selling the stock. +The quotations fell: common stock 60, 59, 56, 50, 45, 48, 50, 52, 45, +40--so ran the dazzling line of figures across the blackboard, again and +again. + +"There'll be fun to-morrow," White remarked, moving away. "Better come in +and see Vinegar and Oil and the rest of Carson's list get a black eye." + +Sommers touched Webber, then shook him gently, asking, + +"What is it this time? Iron and Distillery?" + +"Rag," Webber snapped, recognizing the doctor. "And I'm done for this time +sure thing--_every red copper_. I made two thousand last week on Tin, +and this morning I chucked the whole pile into Rag." + +"You'd better come with me," Sommers urged. "The Exchange is closing for +to-day, anyway." + +The clerk laughed, and replied: "Let's have a drink. I've just got enough +to get drunk on." + +"You're drunk already," the doctor answered gruffly. + +"I'll be drunker before the morning," the clerk remarked, with a feeble +laugh. "I wish I had Dresser here; I'd like to pound him once." + +That desire was repeated in the looks of many men, who were still glowering +at the afternoon's quotations. Carson, the idol of the new "promotions," +seemed to be the man most in demand for pounding. Einstein was explaining +to a savage customer why he had advised him to buy "Rag." + +"I got it over the telephone this morning from a man very close to Carson +that Rag was the thing, the peach of the whole lot. He said it was slated +to cross Biscuit to-day." + +The man growled and ground a cigar stub into the floor. + +"Come, we'll have a drink," a white-faced young fellow called out to an old +man, an acquaintance of the hour. "Somebody's got my money!" The two passed +out arm in arm. + +Webber had his drink, and then another. Then he leaned back in the +embrasure of the bar-room window and looked at Sommers. + +"I guess it's the lake this time. I can't go back to her and tell her it's +all up." + +Sommers watched the man closely, trying to determine how far the disease +had gone. Webber's vain, rather weak face was disguised with a beard, which +made him look older than he was, and the arm that rested on the table +trembled nervously from the flaccid fingers to the shoulder-blades. + +"They've put up some trick between them," Webber continued, in a grumbling +tone. "Carson or Porter is making something by selling Rag. They'd ought to +be in the penitentiary." + +"What rot!" Sommers remarked deliberately. "They've beaten you at your +game, and they will every time, because they have more nerve than you, and +because they know more. There's no use in damning them. You'd do the same +thing if you knew when to do it." + +"They're nothing but sharps!" the clerk protested feebly, insistent like a +child on his idea that some one had done him a personal injury. + +Sommers shrugged his shoulders in despair. "I must be going," he said at +last. "I don't suppose you'll take my advice, and perhaps the lake would be +the best thing for you. But you'd better try it again--it's just as well +that everything has gone this time. There won't be any chance of going back +to the game. Tell her, and if she'll take you, marry her at once, and start +with the little people. Or stay here and have a few more drinks," he added, +as he read the irresolute look upon Webber's face. + +The clerk rose wearily and followed the doctor into the street, as if +afraid of being alone. + +"You needn't be so rough," he muttered. "There are lots of the big fellows +who started the same way--in the market, wheat or stocks. And I had a +little ambition to be something better than a clerk. I wanted her to have +something different. She's as good as those girls Dresser is always talking +to her about." + +Sommers made no reply to his defence, but walked slowly, accommodating his +pace to Webber's weary steps. When they reached Michigan Avenue, he stopped +and said, + +"I should put the lake off, this time, and make up my mind to be a little +fellow." + +Webber shook hands listlessly and started toward the railroad station with +his drooping, irresolute gait. Sommers watched him until his figure merged +with the hurrying crowd. Habit was taking the clerk to the suburban train, +and habit would take him to the Keystone and Miss M'Gann instead of to the +lake. Habit and Miss M'Gann would probably take him back to his desk. But +the disease had gone pretty far, and if he recovered, Sommers judged, he +would never regain his elasticity, his hope. He would be haunted by a +memory of hot desires, of feeble defeat. + +The wavering clerk had succumbed to the mood of the hour. And the mood of +the hour in this corner of the universe was hopeful for weak and strong +alike. Cheap optimism, Sommers would have called it once, but now it seemed +to him the natural temper of the world. With this hope suffused over their +lives, men struggled on--for what? No one knew. Not merely for plunder, nor +for power, nor for enjoyment. Each one might believe these to be the gifts +of the gods, while he kept his eyes solely on himself. But when he turned +his gaze outward, he knew that these were not the spur of human energy. In +striving restlessly to get plunder and power and joy, men wove the +mysterious web of life for ends no human mind could know. Carson built his +rickety companies and played his knavish tricks upon the gullible public, +of whom Webber was one. Brome Porter rooted here and there in the +industrial world, and fattened himself upon all spoils. These had to be; +they were the tools of the hour. But indifferent alike to them and to +Webber, the affairs of men ebbed and flowed in the resistless tide of fate. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The dinner at the Hitchcocks' was very simple. Parker had gone out "to +enjoy his success in not getting to Cuba," as Colonel Hitchcock expressed +it grimly. The old merchant's manner toward the doctor was cordial, but +constrained. At times during the dinner Sommers found Colonel Hitchcock's +eyes resting upon him, as if he were trying to understand him. Sommers was +conscious of the fact that Lindsay had probably done his best to paint his +character in an unflattering light; and though he knew that the old +colonel's shrewdness and kindliness would not permit him to accept bitter +gossip at its face value, yet there must have been enough in his career to +lead to speculation. While they were smoking, Colonel Hitchcock remarked: + +"So you're back in Chicago. Do you think you'll stay?" + +Sommers described the offer Dr. Knowles had made. + +"I used to see Knowles,--a West Side man,--not very able as a money-getter, +I guess, but a good fellow," Colonel Hitchcock emitted meditatively. + +"He has a very commonplace practice," Sommers replied. "An old-fashioned +kind of practice." + +"Do you think you'll like Chicago any better?" Colonel Hitchcock asked +bluntly. + +"I haven't thought much about that," the doctor admitted, uncomfortably. He +felt that the kind old merchant had lost whatever interest he might have +had in him. Any man who played ducks and drakes with his chances in life +was not to be depended upon, according to Colonel Hitchcock's philosophy. +And a man who could not be depended upon to do the rational thing was more +or less dangerous. It was easier for him to understand Parker's defects +than Sommers's wilfulness. They were both lamentable eccentricities. + +"Chicago isn't what it was," the old man resumed reminiscently. "It's too +big, and there is too much speculation. A man is rich to-day and poor +to-morrow. That sort of thing used to be confined to the Board of Trade, +but now it's everywhere, in legitimate business. People don't seem to be +willing to work hard for success." He relapsed into silence, and shortly +after went upstairs, saying as he excused himself,--"Hope we shall see you +again, Dr. Sommers." + +When Colonel Hitchcock had left the room, Miss Hitchcock said, as if to +remove the sting of her father's indifference: + +"Uncle Brome's transactions worry papa,--for a time papa was deeply +involved in one of his schemes,--and he worries over Parker, too. He +doesn't like to think of--what will happen when he is dead. Parker will +have a good deal of money, more than he will know what to do with. It's +sad, don't you think so? To be ending one's life with a feeling that you +have failed to make permanent your ideals, to leave things stable in your +family at least?" + +Instead of replying Sommers left his chair and walked aimlessly about the +room. At last he came back to the large table near which Miss Hitchcock was +seated. + +"You know why I came to-night," he began nervously. + +Miss Hitchcock put down the book she held in her hands and turned her face +to him. + +"Will you help me--to live?" he said bluntly. + +She rose from her seat, and, with a slight smile of irony, replied, + +"Can I?" + +"The past,--" Sommers stammered. "You know it all better than any one +else." + +"I would not have it different, not one thing changed," she protested with +warmth. "What I cannot understand in it, I will believe was best for you +and for me." + +"And the lack of success, the failure?" Sommers questioned eagerly; a touch +of fear in his voice. "I am asking much and giving very little." + +"You understand so badly!" The smile this time was sad. "I shall never know +that it is failure." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Miss Hitchcock's wedding was extremely quiet. It was regarded by all but +the two persons immediately concerned as an eccentric mistake. Even Colonel +Hitchcock, to whom Louise was almost infallible, could not trust himself to +discuss with her, her decision to marry Dr. Sommers. It was all a sign of +the irrational drift of things that seemed to thwart his energetic, +honorable life. Even Sommers's attitude in the frank talk the two men had +about the marriage offended the old merchant. Sommers had met his distant +references to money matters by saying bluntly that he and Louise had +decided it would be best for them not to be the beneficiaries of Colonel +Hitchcock's wealth to any large extent. He wished it distinctly understood +that little was to be done for them now, or in the future by bequest. +Louise had agreed with him that for many reasons their lives would be +happier without the expectation of unearned wealth. He did not explain that +one potent reason for their decision in this matter was the hope they had +that Colonel Hitchcock would realize the futility of leaving any +considerable sum of money to Parker, and would finally place his money +where it could be useful to the community in which he had earned it. +Colonel Hitchcock rather resented the doctor's independence, and, at the +same time, disliked the direct reference to his fortune. Those matters +arranged themselves discreetly in families, and if Louise had children, +why.... + +It did not take Louise and Sommers long, however, to convince Colonel +Hitchcock that they were absolutely sincere in their decision, and to +interest him in methods of returning his wealth, at his death, to the +world. As the months wore on, and Sommers settled into the peaceful routine +of Dr. Knowles's mediocre practice, Colonel Hitchcock revised, to a certain +extent, his judgment of the marriage. It must always remain a mystery to +him, however, that the able young surgeon neglected the brilliant +opportunities he had on coming to Chicago, and had, apparently, thrown away +four years of his life. Probably he attributed this mistake to the young +doctor's ignorance of the world, due to the regrettable fact that Dr. Isaac +Sommers had remained in Marion, Ohio, instead of courting cosmopolitan +experiences in Chicago. When his grandchild came, he saw that Louise was +entirely happy, and he was content. Neither Louise nor Sommers looked back +into the past, or troubled themselves about the future. The practice which +Dr. Knowles had left, if not lucrative, was sufficiently large and varied +to satisfy Sommers. + +Brome Porter had transferred all his interests to New York. He had recouped +himself by selling "Rag" short before it was really launched and by some +other clever strokes of stock manipulation, and had undertaken at length +the much-needed trip to Carlsbad. The suspicion that Porter had won back +the money he owed to Colonel Hitchcock by a trick upon the small fry of +speculators, such as Webber, had its influence in the feeling which Sommers +and his wife had about the Hitchcock money. The last move of the "operator" +had made something of a scandal in Chicago, for many of Porter's friends +and acquaintances lost heavily in "Rag," and felt sore because "they had +been left on the outside." If Porter was not in good odor in Chicago, +Carson's name was anathema, not only to a host of little speculators, who +had followed this ingenious promoter's star, but to substantial men of +wealth as well. After the first flush of optimism, people began to examine +Carson's specialties, and found them very rotten. Carson, and those who +were near him in these companies, it turned out, had got their holdings at +low figures and made money when those not equally favored lost. When "Rag" +went to pieces, it was rumored that Carson had been caught in his own leaky +tub; but, later, it turned out that Carson and Porter had had an +understanding in this affair. "Rag" was never meant to "go." So Carson +betook himself to Europe, and the great Sargent was removed from public +exhibition to a storage warehouse. In some future generation, on the +disintegration of the Carson family, the portrait may come back to the +world again, labelled "A Soldier of Fortune." + +Sommers met Dr. Lindsay at rare intervals; the great specialist treated him +with a nice discrimination of values, adjusting the contempt he felt for +the successor of Dr. Knowles to the respect he felt for the son-in-law of +Colonel Alexander Hitchcock. Report had it that Lindsay had been forced to +return to office practice after virtually retiring from the profession. +And, in the fickle world of Chicago, the offices on the top floor of the +Athenian Building did not "take in" what they once had gathered. For this +as well as other reasons Sommers was not surprised when his wife opened +Miss Laura Lindsay's wedding cards one morning, and read out the name of +the intended bridegroom, _Mr. Samuel Thompson Dresser_. + +"Shall we go?" Louise asked, scrutinizing the cards with feminine keenness. + +"I have reasons for not going," Sommers answered hesitatingly. "But you +used to know Laura Lindsay, and--" + +"I think she will not miss me," Louise answered quickly. "It was queer, +though," she continued, idly waving the invitation to and fro, "that a girl +like Laura should marry a man like Dresser." + +"Did I ever hear you say that it was to be expected that Miss Blank should +marry Mr. Blank?" her husband asked. "In this case I think it is +beautifully appropriate." + +"But he was not exactly in our set, and you once said he was given to +theories, was turned out of a place on account of the ideas he held, didn't +you?" + +"He has seen the folly of those ideas," Sommers responded dryly. "He has +become a bond broker, and has a neat little office in the building where +White and Einstein had their trade." + +"Well," Mrs. Sommers insisted, "Laura never was what you might call +serious." + +"She has taught him a good deal, though, I have no doubt." + +Mrs. Sommers looked puzzled. + +"As other excellent women have taught other men," the doctor added, with a +laugh. + +"What shall we send them?" his wife asked, disregarding the flippancy of +the remark. + +"A handsomely bound copy of the 'Report of the Commission to Examine into +the Chicago Strike, June-July, 1894.'" + +As Louise failed to see the point, he remarked: + +"I think I hear your son talking about something more important. Shall we +go upstairs to see him? I must be off in a few minutes." + +They watched the little child without speaking, while he cautiously +manipulated his arms and interested himself in the puzzle of his own +anatomy. + +"What tremendous faith!" Sommers exclaimed at last. + +"In what?" + +"In the good of it all--in life." + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Web of Life, by Robert Herrick + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEB OF LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 7828.txt or 7828.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/2/7828/ + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Eric Eldred and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Web of Life + +Author: Robert Herrick + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7828] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on May 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEB OF LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Eric Eldred +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + +THE WEB OF LIFE + +BY + +ROBERT HERRICK + + +AUTHOR OF "THE GOSPEL OF FREEDOM," "THE MAN WHO WINS," +"LITERARY LOVE-LETTERS AND OTHER STORIES" + + +TO G. R. C. + + + "_Hear from the spirit world this mystery: + Creation is summed up, O man, in thee; + Angel and demon, man and beast, art thou, + Yea, thou art all thou dost appear to be!_" + + + + +THE WEB OF LIFE + + + + +PART I + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The young surgeon examined the man as he lay on the hospital chair in which +ward attendants had left him. The surgeon's fingers touched him deftly, +here and there, as if to test the endurance of the flesh he had to deal +with. The head nurse followed his swift movements, wearily moving an +incandescent light hither and thither, observing the surgeon with languid +interest. Another nurse, much younger, without the "black band," watched +the surgeon from the foot of the cot. Beads of perspiration chased +themselves down her pale face, caused less by sympathy than by sheer +weariness and heat. The small receiving room of St. Isidore's was close and +stuffy, surcharged with odors of iodoform and ether. The Chicago spring, so +long delayed, had blazed with a sudden fury the last week in March, and now +at ten o'clock not a capful of air strayed into the room, even through the +open windows that faced the lake. + +The patient groaned when the surgeon's fingers first touched him, then +relapsed into the spluttering, labored respiration of a man in liquor or in +heavy pain. A stolid young man who carried the case of instruments freshly +steaming from their antiseptic bath made an observation which the surgeon +apparently did not hear. He was thinking, now, his thin face set in a +frown, the upper teeth biting hard over the under lip and drawing up the +pointed beard. While he thought, he watched the man extended on the chair, +watched him like an alert cat, to extract from him some hint as to what he +should do. This absorption seemed to ignore completely the other occupants +of the room, of whom he was the central, commanding figure. The head nurse +held the lamp carelessly, resting her hand over one hip thrown out, her +figure drooping into an ungainly pose. She gazed at the surgeon steadily, +as if puzzled at his intense preoccupation over the common case of a man +"shot in a row." Her eyes travelled over the surgeon's neat-fitting evening +dress, which was so bizarre here in the dingy receiving room, redolent of +bloody tasks. Evidently he had been out to some dinner or party, and when +the injured man was brought in had merely donned his rumpled linen jacket +with its right sleeve half torn from the socket. A spot of blood had +already spurted into the white bosom of his shirt, smearing its way over +the pearl button, and running under the crisp fold of the shirt. The head +nurse was too tired and listless to be impatient, but she had been called +out of hours on this emergency case, and she was not used to the surgeon's +preoccupation. Such things usually went off rapidly at St. Isidore's, and +she could hear the tinkle of the bell as the hall door opened for another +case. It would be midnight before she could get back to bed! The hospital +was short-handed, as usual. + +The younger nurse was not watching the patient, nor the good-looking young +surgeon, who seemed to be the special property of her superior. Even in her +few months of training she had learned to keep herself calm and +serviceable, and not to let her mind speculate idly. She was gazing out of +the window into the dull night. Some locomotives in the railroad yards just +outside were puffing lazily, breathing themselves deeply in the damp, +spring air. One hoarser note than the others struck familiarly on the +nurse's ear. That was the voice of the engine on the ten-thirty through +express, which was waiting to take its train to the east. She knew that +engine's throb, for it was the engine that stood in the yards every evening +while she made her first rounds for the night. It was the one which took +_her_ train round the southern end of the lake, across the sandy +fields, to Michigan, to her home. + +The engine puffed away, and she withdrew her gaze and glanced at the +patient. To her, too, the wounded man was but a case, another error of +humanity that had come to St. Isidore's for temporary repairs, to start +once more on its erring course, or, perhaps, to go forth unfinished, +remanded just there to death. The ten-thirty express was now pulling out +through the yards in a powerful clamor of clattering switches and hearty +pulsations that shook the flimsy walls of St. Isidore's, and drew new +groans from the man on the chair. The young nurse's eyes travelled from him +to a woman who stood behind the ward tenders, shielded by them and the +young interne from the group about the hospital chair. This woman, having +no uniform of any sort, must be some one who had come in with the patient, +and had stayed unobserved in the disorder of a night case. + +Suddenly the surgeon spoke; his words shot out at the head nurse. + +"We will operate now!" + +The interne shrugged his shoulders, but he busied himself in selecting and +wiping the instruments. Yet in spite of his decisive words the surgeon +seemed to hesitate. + +"Was there any one with this man,--any friend?" he asked the head nurse. + +In reply she looked around vaguely, her mind thrown out of gear by this +unexpected delay. Another freak of the handsome surgeon! + +"Any relative or friend?" the surgeon iterated peremptorily, looking about +at the attendants. + +The little nurse at the foot of the patient, who was not impressed by the +irregularity of the surgeon's request, pointed mutely to the figure behind +the ward tenders. The surgeon wheeled about and glanced almost savagely at +the woman, his eyes travelling swiftly from her head to her feet. The woman +thus directly questioned by the comprehending glance returned his look +freely, resentfully. At last when the surgeon's eyes rested once more on +her face, this time more gently, she answered: + +"I am his wife." + +This statement in some way humanized the scene. The ward tenders and the +interne stared at her blankly; the nurses looked down in unconscious +comment on the twisted figure by their side. The surgeon drew his hands +from his pockets and stepped toward the woman, questioning her meanwhile +with his nervous, piercing glance. For a moment neither spoke, but some +kind of mute explanation seemed to be going on between them. + +She kept her face level with his, revealing it bravely, perhaps defiantly. +Its tense expression, with a few misery-laden lines, answered back to the +inquiry of the nonchalant outsiders: 'Yes, I am his wife, _his_ wife, +the _wife_ of the object over there, brought here to the hospital, +shot in a saloon brawl.' And the surgeon's face, alive with a new +preoccupation, seemed to reply: 'Yes, I know! You need not pain yourself by +telling me.' + +The patient groaned again, and the surgeon came back at once to the urgent +present--the case. He led the way to one side, and turning his back upon +the group of assistants he spoke to the woman in low tones. + +"This man, your husband, is pretty badly off. He's got at least two bullets +in bad places. There isn't much chance for him--in his condition," he +explained brusquely, as if to reconcile his unusual procedure with +business-like methods. + +"But I should operate," he continued; "I shall operate unless there are +objections--unless you object." + +His customary imperious manner was struggling with a special feeling for +this woman before him. She did not reply, but waited to hear where her part +might come in. Her eyes did not fall from his face. + +"There's a chance," the surgeon went on, "that a certain operation now will +bring him around all right. But to-morrow will be too late." + +His words thus far had something foolish in them, and her eyes seemed to +say so. If it was the only chance, and his custom was to operate in such +cases,--if he would have operated had she not been there, why did he go +through this explanation? + +"There may be----complications in his recovery," he said at last, in low +tones. "The recovery may not be complete." + +She did not seem to understand, and the surgeon frowned at his failure, +after wrenching from himself this frankness. The idea, the personal idea +that he had had to put out of his mind so often in operating in hospital +cases,--that it made little difference whether, indeed, it might be a great +deal wiser if the operation turned out fatally,--possessed his mind. Could +she be realizing that, too, in her obstinate silence? He tried another +explanation. + +"If we do not operate, he will probably have a few hours of +consciousness--if you had something to say to him?" + +Her face flushed. He humiliated her. He must know that she had nothing to +say to _him_, as well as if he had known the whole story. + +"We could make him comfortable, and who knows, to-morrow might not be too +late!" The surgeon ended irritably, impatient at the unprofessional +frankness of his words, and disgusted that he had taken this woman into his +confidence. Did she want him to say: 'See here, there's only one chance in +a thousand that we can save that carcass; and if he gets that chance, it +may not be a whole one--do you care enough for him to run that dangerous +risk?' But she obstinately kept her own counsel. The professional manner +that he ridiculed so often was apparently useful in just such cases as +this. It covered up incompetence and hypocrisy often enough, but one could +not be human and straightforward with women and fools. And women and fools +made up the greater part of a doctor's business. + +Yet the voice that said, "I am his wife," rang through his mind and +suggested doubts. Under the miserable story that he had instinctively +imaged, there probably lay some tender truth. + +"There's a chance, you see!" he resumed more tenderly, probing her for an +evidence. "All any of us have, except that he is not in a condition for an +operation." + +This time her mouth quivered. She was struggling for words. "Why do you ask +me?" she gasped. "What--" but her voice failed her. + +"I should operate," the surgeon replied gently, anticipating her question. +"I, we should think it better that way, only sometimes relatives object." + +He thought that he had probed true and had found what he was after. + +"It is a chance," she said audibly, finding her voice. "You must do what +you think--best. I have nothing to say to him. You need not delay for +that." + +"Very well," the surgeon replied, relieved that his irregular confidence +had resulted in the conventional decision, and that he had not brought on +himself a responsibility shared with her. "You had best step into the +office. You can do no good here." + +Then, dismissing the unusual from his mind, he stepped quickly back to the +patient. The younger nurse was bathing the swollen, sodden face with apiece +of gauze; the head nurse, annoyed at the delay, bustled about, preparing +the dressings under the direction of the interne. + +The wife had not obeyed the doctor's direction to leave the room, however, +and remained at the window, staring out into the soft night. At last, when +the preparations were completed, the younger nurse came and touched her. +"You can sit in the office, next door; they may be some time," she urged +gently. + +As the woman turned to follow the nurse, the surgeon glanced at her once +more. He was conscious of her calm tread, her admirable self-control. The +sad, passive face with its broad, white brow was the face of a woman who +was just waking to terrible facts, who was struggling to comprehend a world +that had caught her unawares. She had removed her hat and was carrying it +loosely in her hand that had fallen to her side. Her hair swept back in two +waves above the temples with a simplicity that made the head distinguished. +Even the nurses' caps betrayed stray curls or rolls. Her figure was large, +and the articulation was perfect as she walked, showing that she had had +the run of fields in her girlhood. Yet she did not stoop as is the habit of +country girls; nor was there any unevenness of physique due to hard, manual +labor. + +As she passed the huddle of human flesh stretched out in the wheel-chair, a +wave of color swept over her face. Then she looked up to the surgeon and +seemed to speak to him, as to the one human being in a world of puppets. +'You understand; you understand. It is terrible!' + +The surgeon's brown eyes answered hers, but he was puzzled. Had he probed +her aright? It was one of those intimate moments that come to nervously +organized people, when the petty detail of acquaintanceship and fact is +needless, when each one stands nearly confessed to the other. And then she +left the room. + +The surgeon proceeded without a word, working intently, swiftly, +dexterously. At first the head nurse was too busy in handling bowls and +holding instruments to think, even professionally, of the operation. The +interne, however, gazed in admiration, emitting exclamations of delight as +the surgeon rapidly took one step after another. Then he was sent for +something, and the head nurse, her chief duties performed, drew herself +upright for a breath, and her keen, little black eyes noticed an +involuntary tremble, a pause, an uncertainty at a critical moment in the +doctor's tense arm. A wilful current of thought had disturbed his action. +The sharp head nurse wondered if Dr. Sommers had had any wine that evening, +but she dismissed this suspicion scornfully, as slander against the +ornament of the Surgical Ward of St. Isidore's. He was tired: the languid +summer air thus early in the year would shake any man's nerve. But the head +nurse understood well that such a wavering of will or muscle must not occur +again, or the hairbreadth chance the drunken fellow had---- + +She watched that bared arm, her breath held. The long square fingers closed +once more with a firm grip on the instrument. "Miss Lemoris, some No. 3 +gauze." Then not a sound until the thing was done, and the surgeon had +turned away to cleanse his hands in the bowl of purple antiseptic wash. + +"My!" the head nurse exclaimed, "Dr. Trip ain't in it." But the surgeon's +face wore a preoccupied, sombre look, irresponsive to the nurse's +admiration. While she helped the interne with the complicated dressing, the +little nurse made ready for removal to the ward. Then when one of the ward +tenders had wheeled the muffled figure into the corridor, she hurried +across to the office. + +"It's all over," she whispered blithely to the wife, who sat in a dull +abstraction, oblivious of the hospital flurry. "And it's going to be all +right, I just know. Dr. Sommers is _so_ clever, he'd save a dead man. +You had better go now. No use to see him to-night, for he won't come out of +the opiate until near morning. You can come tomorrow morning, and p'r'aps +Dr. Sommers will get you a pass in. Visitors only Thursdays and Sunday +afternoons usually." + +She hurried off to her duties in the ward. The woman did not rise at once. +She did not readjust her thoughts readily; she seemed to be waiting in the +chance of seeing some one. The surgeon did not come out of the receiving +room; there was a sound of wheels in the corridor just outside the office +door, followed by the sound of shuffling feet. Through the open door she +could see two attendants wheeling a stretcher with a man lying motionless +upon it. They waited in the hall outside under a gas-jet, which cast a +flickering light upon the outstretched form. This was the next case, which +had been waiting its turn while her husband was in the receiving room,--a +hand from the railroad yards, whose foot had slipped on a damp rail; now a +pulpy, almost shapeless mass, thinly disguised under a white sheet that had +fallen from his arms and head. She got up and walked out of the room. She +was not wanted there: the hospital had turned its momentary swift attention +to another case. As she passed the stretcher, the bearers shifted their +burden to give her room. The form on the stretcher moaned indistinctly. + +She looked at the unsightly mass, in her heart envious of his condition. +There were things in this world much more evil than this bruised flesh of +what had once been a human being. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The next morning Dr. Sommers took his successor through, the surgical ward. +Dr. Raymond, whose place he had been holding for a month, was a young, +carefully dressed man, fresh from a famous eastern hospital. The nurses +eyed him favorably. He was absolutely correct. When the surgeons reached +the bed marked 8, Dr. Sommers paused. It was the case he had operated on +the night before. He glanced inquiringly at the metal tablet which hung +from the iron cross-bars above the patient's head. On it was printed in +large black letters the patient's name, ARTHUR C. PRESTON; on the next line +in smaller letters, Admitted March 26th. The remaining space on the card +was left blank to receive the statement of regimen, etc. A nurse was giving +the patient an iced drink. After swallowing feebly, the man relapsed into a +semi-stupor, his eyes opening and closing vacantly. + +As he lay under the covering of a sheet, his arms thrust out bare from the +short-sleeved hospital shirt, his unshaven flushed face contrasting with +the pallid and puffy flesh of neck and arms, he gave an impression of +sensuality emphasized by undress. The head was massive and well formed, and +beneath the bloat of fever and dissipation there showed traces of +refinement. The soft hands and neat finger-nails, the carefully trimmed +hair, were sufficient indications of a kind of luxury. The animalism of the +man, however, had developed so early in life that it had obliterated all +strong markings of character. The flaccid, rather fleshy features were +those of the sensual, prodigal young American, who haunts hotels. Clean +shaven and well dressed, the fellow would be indistinguishable from the +thousands of overfed and overdrunk young business men, to be seen every day +in the vulgar luxury of Pullman cars, hotel lobbies, and large bar-rooms. + +The young surgeon studied the patient thoughtfully. He explained the case +briefly to his successor, as he had all the others, and before leaving the +bed, he had the nurse take the patient's temperature. "Only two degrees of +fever," he commented mechanically; "that is very good. Has his wife--has +any one been in to see him?" The head nurse, who stood like an automaton at +the foot of the bed, replied that she had seen no one; in any case, the +doorkeeper would have refused permission unless explicit orders had been +given. + +Then the doctors continued their rounds, followed by the correct head +nurse. When they reached the end of the ward, Dr. Sommers remarked +disconnectedly: "No. 8 there, the man with the gun-shot wounds, will get +well, I think; but I shouldn't wonder if mental complications followed. I +have seen cases like that at the Bicetre, where operations on an alcoholic +patient produced paresis. The man got well," he added harshly, as if +kicking aside some dull formula; "but he was a hopeless idiot." + +The new surgeon stared politely without replying. Such an unprofessional +and uncalled-for expression of opinion was a new experience to him. In the +Boston hospital resident surgeons did not make unguarded confidences even +to their colleagues. + +The two men finished their inspection without further incident, and went to +the office to examine the system of records. After Sommers had left his +successor, he learned from the clerk that "No. 8" had been entered as, +"Commercial traveller; shot three times in a saloon row." Mrs. Preston had +called,--from her and the police this information came,--had been informed +that her husband was doing well, but had not asked to see him. She had left +an address at some unknown place a dozen miles south. + +The surgeon's knowledge of the case ended there. As in so many instances, +he knew solely the point of tragedy: the before and the after went on +outside the hospital walls, beyond his ken. While he was busy in getting +away from the hospital, in packing up the few things left in his room, he +thought no more about Preston's case or any case. But the last thing he did +before leaving St. Isidore's was to visit the surgical ward once more and +glance at No. 8's chart. The patient was resting quietly; there was every +promise of recovery. + +He left the grimy brick hospital, and made his way toward the rooms he had +engaged in a neighborhood farther south. The weather was unseasonably warm +and enervating, and he walked slowly, taking the broad boulevard in +preference to the more noisome avenues, which were thick with slush and +mud. It was early in the afternoon, and the few carriages on the boulevard +were standing in front of the fashionable garment shops that occupied the +city end of the drive. He had an unusual, oppressive feeling of idleness; +it was the first time since he had left the little Ohio college, where he +had spent his undergraduate years, that he had known this emptiness of +purpose. There was nothing for him to do now, except to dine at the +Hitchcocks' to-night. There would be little definite occupation probably +for weeks, months, until he found some practice. Always hitherto, there had +been a succession of duties, tasks, ends that he set himself one on the +heels of another, occupying his mind, relieving his will of all +responsibility. + +He was cast out now from his youth, as it were, at thirty-two, to find his +place in the city, to create his little world. And for the first time since +he had entered Chicago, seven months before, the city wore a face of +strangeness, of complete indifference. It hummed on, like a self-absorbed +machine: all he had to do was not to get caught in it, involved, wrecked. +For nearly a year he had been a part of it; and yet busy as he had been in +the hospital, he had not sought to place himself strongly. He had gone in +and out, here and there, for amusement, but he had returned to the +hospital. Now the city was to be his home: somewhere in it he must dig his +own little burrow. + +Unconsciously his gait expressed his detachment. He sauntered idly, looking +with fresh curiosity at the big, smoke-darkened houses on the boulevard. At +Twenty-Second Street, a cable train clanged its way harshly across his +path. As he looked up, he caught sight of the lake at the end of the +street,--a narrow blue slab of water between two walls. The vista had a +strangely foreign air. But the street itself, with its drays lumbering into +the hidden depths of slimy pools, its dirty, foot-stained cement walks, had +the indubitable aspect of Chicago. + +Along the boulevard carriages were passing more frequently. The clank of +metal chains, the beat of hoofs upon the good road-bed, sounded smartly on +the ear. The houses became larger, newer, more flamboyant; richly dressed, +handsome women were coming and going between them and their broughams. When +Sommers turned to look back, the boulevard disappeared in the vague, murky +region of mephitic cloud, beneath which the husbands of those women were +toiling, striving, creating. He walked on and on, enjoying his leisure, +speculating idly about the people and the houses. At last, as he neared +Fortieth Street, the carriages passed less frequently. He turned back with +a little chill, a feeling that he had left the warm, living thing and was +too much alone. This time he came through Prairie and Calumet Avenues. +Here, on the asphalt pavements, the broughams and hansoms rolled +noiselessly to and fro among the opulent houses with tidy front grass plots +and shining steps. The avenues were alive with afternoon callers. At +several points there were long lines of carriages, attending a reception, +or a funeral, or a marriage. + +The air and the relaxation of all purpose tired him. The scene of the +previous evening hung about his mind, coloring the abiding sense of +loneliness. His last triumph in the delicate art of his profession had +given him no exhilarating sense of power. He saw the woman's face, +miserable and submissive, and he wondered. But he brought himself up with a +jerk: this was the danger of permitting any personal feeling or speculation +to creep into professional matters. + + * * * * * + +In his new rooms on Twenty-Eighth Street, there was an odor of stale +tobacco, permeating the confusion created by a careless person. Dresser had +been occupying them lately. He had found Sam Dresser, whom he had known as +a student in Europe, wandering almost penniless down State Street, and had +offered him a lodging-place. + +"How did it come out?" Sommers asked the big, blond young man with a +beer-stained mustache. + +The big fellow stopped, before answering, to stuff a pipe with tobacco, +punching it in with a fat thumb. + +"They'll give me a job--mean one--three dollars a day--nine to five--under +the roof in a big loft, tenth story--with a lot of women hirelings. Regular +sweatshop--educational sweatshop." + +Sommers took up some letters from the table and opened them. + +"Well, I've got to scare up some patients to live on, even to make three +dollars a day." + +"You!" Dresser exclaimed, eying the letters with naive envy. "You are pals +with the fat-fed capitalists. They will see that you get something easy, +and one of these days you will marry one of their daughters. Then you will +join the bank accounts, and good-by." + +He continued to rail, half jestingly, half in earnest, at McNamara and +Hills,--where he had obtained work, thanks to a letter which Sommers had +procured for him,--at his companion's relations with the well-to-do, which +he exaggerated offensively, and at the well-to-do themselves. + +"It was lucky for you," Sommers remarked good-humoredly, "that I was thick +enough with the bloodsuckers to get you that letter from Hitchcock. One of +us will have to stand in with the 'swilling, fat-fed capitalist.'" + +"Are those Hitchcocks rich?" Dresser asked, his eye resting wistfully on a +square note that the young doctor had laid aside. + +"I suppose so," Sommers answered. "Shall we go and have some beer?" + +Dresser's blue eyes still followed the little pile of letters--eyes hot +with desires and regrets. A lust burned in them, as his companion could +feel instinctively, a lust to taste luxury. Under its domination Dresser +was not unlike the patient in No. 8. + +When they turned into the boulevard, which was crowded at this hour of +twilight, men were driving themselves home in high carts, and through the +windows of the broughams shone the luxuries of evening attire. Dresser's +glance shifted from face to face, from one trap to another, sucking in the +glitter of the showy scene. The flashing procession on the boulevard +pricked his hungry senses, goaded his ambitions. The men and women in the +carriages were the bait; the men and women on the street sniffed it, +cravingly, enviously. + +"There's plenty of swag in the place," Dresser remarked. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The Hitchcocks and the Sommerses came from the same little village in +Maine; they had moved west, about the same time, a few years before the +Civil War: Alexander Hitchcock to Chicago; the senior Dr. Sommers to +Marion, Ohio. Alexander Hitchcock had been colonel of the regiment in which +Isaac Sommers served as surgeon. Although the families had seen little of +one another since the war, yet Alexander Hitchcock's greeting to the young +doctor when he met the latter in Paris had been more than cordial. +Something in the generous, lingering hand-shake of the Chicago merchant had +made the younger man feel the strength of old ties. + +"I knew your mother," Colonel Hitchcock had said, smiling gently into the +young student's face. "I knew her very well, and your father, too,--he was +a brave man, a remarkable man." + +He had sympathetically rolled the hand he still retained in his broad palm. + +"If Marion had only been Chicago! You say he died two years ago? And your +mother long ago? Where will you settle?" + +With this abrupt question, Dr. Sommers was taken at once into a kindly +intimacy with the Hitchcocks. Not long after this chance meeting there came +to the young surgeon an offer of a post at St. Isidore's. In the +vacillating period of choice, the successful merchant's counsel had had a +good deal of influence with Sommers. And his persistent kindliness since +the choice had been made had done much to render the first year in Chicago +agreeable. 'We must start you right,' he had seemed to say. 'We mustn't +lose you.' + +Those pleasant days in Paris had been rendered more memorable to the young +doctor by the friendship that came about between him and Miss Hitchcock--a +friendship quite independent of anything her family might feel for him. She +let him see that she made her own world, and that she would welcome him as +a member of it. Accustomed as he had been only to the primitive daughters +of the local society in Marion and Exonia, or the chance intercourse with +unassorted women in Philadelphia, where he had taken his medical course, +and in European pensions, Louise Hitchcock presented a very definite and +delightful picture. That it was but one generation from Hill's Crossing, +Maine, to this self-possessed, carefully finished young woman, was +unbelievable. Tall and finished in detail, from the delicate hands and fine +ears to the sharply moulded chin, she presented a puzzling contrast to the +short, thick, sturdy figure of her mother. And her quick appropriation of +the blessings of wealth, her immediate enjoyment of the aristocratic +assurances that the Hitchcock position had given her in Chicago, showed +markedly in contrast with the tentativeness of Mrs. Hitchcock. Louise +Hitchcock handled her world with perfect self-command; Mrs. Hitchcock was +rather breathless over every manifestation of social change. + +Parker Hitchcock, the son, Sommers had not seen until his coming to +Chicago. At a first glance, then, he could feel that in the son the family +had taken a further leap from the simplicity of the older generation. +Incidentally the young man's cool scrutiny had instructed him that the +family had not committed Parker Hitchcock to _him_. Young Hitchcock +had returned recently to the family lumber yards on the West Side and the +family residence on Michigan Avenue, with about equal disgust, so Sommers +judged, for both _milieux_. Even more than his sister, Parker was +conscious of the difference between the old state of things and the new. +Society in Chicago was becoming highly organized, a legitimate business of +the second generation of wealth. The family had the money to spend, and at +Yale in winter, at Newport and Beverly and Bar Harbor in summer, he had +learned how to spend it, had watched admiringly how others spent their +wealth. He had begun to educate his family in spending,--in using to +brilliant advantage the fruits of thirty years' hard work and frugality. +With his cousin Caspar Porter he maintained a small polo stable at Lake +Hurst, the new country club. On fair days he left the lumber yards at noon, +while Alexander Hitchcock was still shut in behind the dusty glass doors of +his office. His name was much oftener in the paragraphs of the city press +than his parents': he was leading the family to new ideals. + +Ideals, Sommers judged, that were not agreeable to old Colonel Hitchcock, +slightly menacing even in the eyes of the daughter, whose horizon was +wider. Sommers had noticed the little signs of this heated family +atmosphere. A mist of undiscussed views hung about the house, out of which +flashed now and then a sharp speech, a bitter sigh. He had been at the +house a good deal in a thoroughly informal manner. The Hitchcocks rarely +entertained in the "new" way, for Mrs. Hitchcock had a terror of formality. +A dinner, as she understood it, meant a gathering of a few old friends, +much hearty food served in unpretentious abundance, and a very little bad +wine. The type of these entertainments had improved lately under Miss +Hitchcock's influence, but it remained essentially the same,--an occasion +for copious feeding and gossipy, neighborly chat. + +To-night, as Sommers approached the sprawling green stone house on Michigan +Avenue, there were signs of unusual animation about the entrance. As he +reached the steps a hansom deposited the bulky figure of Brome Porter, Mrs. +Hitchcock's brother-in-law. The older man scowled interrogatively at the +young doctor, as if to say: 'You here? What the devil of a crowd has Alec +raked together?' But the two men exchanged essential courtesies and entered +the house together. + +Porter, Sommers had heard, had once been Alexander Hitchcock's partner in +the lumber business, but had withdrawn from the firm years before. Brome +Porter was now a banker, as much as he was any one thing. It was easy to +see that the pedestrian business of selling lumber would not satisfy Brome +Porter. Popularly "rated at five millions," his fortune had not come out of +lumber. Alexander Hitchcock, with all his thrift, had not put by over a +million. Banking, too, would seem to be a tame enterprise for Brome Porter. +Mines, railroads, land speculations--he had put his hand into them all +masterfully. Large of limb and awkward, with a pallid, rather stolid face, +he looked as if Chicago had laid a heavy hand upon his liver, as if the +Carlsbad pilgrimage were a yearly necessity. 'Heavy eating and drinking, +strong excitements--too many of them,' commented the professional glance of +the doctor. 'Brute force, padded superficially by civilization,' Sommers +added to himself, disliking Porter's cold eye shots at him. 'Young man,' +his little buried eyes seemed to say, 'young man, if you know what's good +for you; if you are the right sort; if you do the proper thing, we'll push +you. Everything in this world depends on being in the right carriage.' +Sommers was tempted whenever he met him to ask him for a good tip: he +seemed always to have just come from New York; and when this barbarian went +to Rome, it was for a purpose, which expressed itself sooner or later over +the stock-ticker. But the tip had not come yet. + +As Sommers was reaching the end of his conversational rope with Porter, +other guests arrived. Among them was Dr. Lindsay, a famous specialist in +throat diseases. The older doctor nodded genially to Sommers with the air +of saying: 'I am so glad to find you _here_. This is the right place +for a promising young man.' + +And Sommers in a flash suspected why he had been bidden: the good-natured +Miss Hitchcock wished to bring him a little closer to this influential +member of his profession. + +"Shall we wait for them?" Dr. Lindsay asked, joining Sommers. "Porter has +got hold of Carson, and they'll keep up their stories until some one hauls +them out. My wife and daughter have already gone down. How is St. +Isidore's?" + +"I left to-day. My term is up. I feel homesick already," the young doctor +answered with a smile. "Chicago is so big," he added. "I didn't know it +before." + +"It's quite a village, quite a village," Dr. Lindsay answered thoughtfully. +"We'll have some more talk later, won't we?" he added confidentially, as +they passed downstairs. + +The Hitchcock house revealed itself in the floods of electric light as +large and undeniably ugly. Built before artistic ambitions and cosmopolitan +architects had undertaken to soften American angularities, it was merely a +commodious building, ample enough for a dozen Hitchcocks to loll about in. +Decoratively, it might be described as a museum of survivals from the +various stages of family history. At each advance in prosperity, in social +ideals, some of the former possessions had been swept out of the lower +rooms to the upper stories, in turn to be ousted by their more modern +neighbors. Thus one might begin with the rear rooms of the third story to +study the successive deposits. There the billiard chairs once did service +in the old home on the West Side. In the hall beside the Westminster clock +stood a "sofa," covered with figured velours. That had once adorned the old +Twentieth Street drawing-room; and thrifty Mrs. Hitchcock had not +sufficiently readjusted herself to the new state to banish it to the floor +above, where it belonged with some ugly, solid brass andirons. In the same +way, faithful Mr. Hitchcock had seen no good reason why he should degrade +the huge steel engraving of the Aurora, which hung prominently at the foot +of the stairs, in spite of its light oak frame, which was in shocking +contrast with the mahogany panels of the walls. Flanking the staircase were +other engravings,--Landseer's stags and the inevitable Queen Louise. Yet +through the open arch, in a pleasant study, one could see a good Zorn, a +Venom portrait, and some prints. This nook, formerly the library, had been +given over to the energetic Miss Hitchcock. It was done in +Shereton,--imitation, but good imitation. From this vantage point the +younger generation planned an extended attack upon the irregular household +gods. + +Sommers realized for the first time how the Aurora and the Queen Louise +must worry Miss Hitchcock; how the neat Swedish maids and the hat-stand in +the hall must offend young Hitchcock. The incongruities of the house had +never disturbed him. So far as he had noticed them, they accorded well with +the simple characters of his host and hostess. In them, as in the house, a +keen observer could trace the series of developments that had taken place +since they had left Hill's Crossing. Yet the full gray beard with the broad +shaved upper lip still gave the Chicago merchant the air of a New England +worthy. And Alexander, in contrast with his brother-in-law, had knotty +hands and a tanned complexion that years of "inside business" had not +sufficed to smooth. The little habit of kneading the palm which you felt +when he shook hands, and the broad, humorous smile, had not changed as the +years passed him on from success to success. Mrs. Hitchcock still slurred +the present participle and indulged in other idiomatic freedoms that +endeared her to Sommers. These two, plainly, were not of the generation +that is tainted by ambition. Their story was too well known, from the +boarding-house struggle to this sprawling stone house, to be worth the +varnishing. Indeed, they would not tolerate any such detractions from their +well-earned reputation. The Brome Porters might draw distinctions and +prepare for a new social aristocracy; but to them old times were sweet and +old friends dear. + +As the guests gathered in the large "front room," Alexander Hitchcock stood +above them, as the finest, most courteous spirit. There was race in +him--sweetness and strength and refinement--the qualities of the best +manhood of democracy. This effect of simplicity and sweetness was +heightened in the daughter, Louise. She had been born in Chicago, in the +first years of the Hitchcock fight. She remembered the time when the +billiard-room chairs were quite the most noted possessions in the basement +and three-story brick house on West Adams Street. She had followed the +chairs in the course of the Hitchcock evolution until her aunt had insisted +on her being sent east to the Beaumanor Park School. Two years of "refined +influences" in this famous establishment, with a dozen other girls from +new-rich families, had softened her tones and prolonged her participles, +but had touched her not essentially. Though she shared with her younger +brother the feeling that the Hitchcocks were not getting the most out of +their opportunities, she could understand the older people more than he. If +she sympathized with her father's belief that the boy ought to learn to +sell lumber, or "do something for himself," yet she liked the fact that he +played polo. It was the right thing to be energetic, upright, respected; it +was also nice to spend your money as others did. And it was very, very nice +to have the money to spend. + +To-night, as Sommers came across the hall to the drawing-room, she left the +group about the door to welcome him. "Weren't you surprised," she asked him +with an ironical laugh, "at the people, I mean--all ages and kinds? You see +Parker had to be appeased. He didn't want to stay, and I don't know why he +should. So we gave him Laura Lindsay." She nodded good-naturedly in the +direction of a young girl, whose sharp thin little face was turned joyfully +toward the handsome Parker. "And we added our cousin Caspar, not for +conversation, but to give an illusion of youth and gayety. Caspar is the +captain of the polo team. By the way, what do you think of polo?" + +"I never had occasion to think," the young doctor replied, scrutinizing a +heavy, florid-faced young man whom he took to be Caspar Porter. + +"Well, polo is with us at breakfast and dinner. Papa doesn't approve, +doesn't believe in young men keeping a stable as Caspar does. Mamma doesn't +know what she believes. I am arbitrator--it's terrible, the new +generation," she broke off whimsically. + +"Which has the right of it?" Sommers asked idly. "The fathers who made the +money, or the sons who want to enjoy it?" + +"Both; neither," she laughed back with an air of comfortable tolerance. She +might have added, 'You see, I like both kinds--you and Parker's set.' + +"Do you know, Dr. Lindsay is here?" + +Sommers smiled as he replied,-- + +"Yes; was it arranged?" + +The girl blushed, and moved away. + +"He was anxious to meet you." + +"Of course," the doctor replied ironically. + +"I could tell you more," she added alluringly. + +"I have no doubt. Perhaps you had better not, however." + +Miss Hitchcock ceased to smile and looked at him without reply. She had +something on the tip of her tongue to tell him, something she had thought +of pleasantly for the last three days, but she suspected that this man was +not one who would like to take his good fortune from a woman's hand. + +"Dr. Lindsay is an old friend; we have known him for years." She spoke +neutrally. Sommers merely nodded. + +"He is very successful, _very_," she added, giving in to her desire a +little. + +"Chicago is a good place for a throat specialist." + +"He is said to be the most--" + +"What?" + +"You know--has the largest income of any doctor in the city." +Sommers did not reply. At length the girl ventured once more. + +"I hope you will be nice to him." + +"There won't be any question of it." + +"You can be so stiff, so set; I have counted a great deal on this." + +"Politics, politics!" Sommers exclaimed awkwardly. "Who is the man with Mr. +Porter?" + +"Railway Gazette Carson? That's what he is called. He swallows +railroads--absorbs 'em. He was a lawyer. They have a house on the North +Side and a picture, a Sargent. But I'll keep the story. Come! you must meet +Mrs. Lindsay." + +"Politics, politics!" Sommers murmured to himself, as Miss Hitchcock moved +across the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +At the table there were awkward silences, followed by spasmodic local +bursts of talk. Sommers, who sat between Miss Hitchcock and Mrs. Lindsay, +fell to listening to his host. + +"I was taken for you to-day, Brome," Mr. Hitchcock said, with a touch of +humor in his voice. + +Porter laughed at the apparent absurdity of the accusation. + +"I was detained at the office over at the yards. The men and the girls had +pretty nearly all gone. I was just about to leave, when a fellow opened the +door--he looked like a Swede or a Norwegian. + +"'Is the boss here?' he asked. + +"'Yes,' said I; 'what can I do for you?' + +"'I wants a yob, a yob,' he shouted, 'and no foolin'. I worked for de boss +ten years and never lost a day!' + +"I thought the man was drunk. 'Who did you work for?' I asked. 'For +Pullman, in de vorks,' he said; then I saw how it was. He was one of the +strikers, or had lost his job before the strike. Some one told him you were +in with me, Brome, and a director of the Pullman works. He had footed it +clear in from Pullman to find you, to lay hands on you personally." + +Porter laughed rather grimly. + +"That's the first sign!" Carson exclaimed. + +"They'll have enough of it before the works open," Porter added. + +Parker Hitchcock looked bored. Such things were not in good form; they came +from the trade element in the family. His cousin Caspar had Miss Lindsay's +attention. She was describing a Polish estate where she had visited the +preceding summer. + +"Did you send him round to our office?" Porter asked jokingly. + +Sommers's keen eyes rested on his host's face inquiringly. + +"No-oh," Alexander Hitchcock drawled; "I had a talk with him." + +"They are rather dangerous people to talk with," Dr. Lindsay remarked. + +"He was a Norwegian, a big, fine-looking man. He was _all right_. He +couldn't talk much English, but he knew that his folks were hungry. 'You +gif me a yob,' he kept saying, until I explained I wasn't in the business, +had nothing to do with the Pullman works. Then he sat down and looked at +the floor. 'I vas fooled.' Well, it seems he did inlaying work, fine +cabinet work, and got good pay. He built a house for himself out in some +place, and he was fired among the first last winter,--I guess because he +didn't live in Pullman." + +"That's the story they use," Brome Porter said sceptically. "You should +call the watchman; they're apt to be dangerous." + +"A crowd of 'em," put in Carson, "were at the Pullman office this morning; +wanted to _arbitrate_." + +He spoke deprecatingly of their innocence, but Porter's tones were harsh. + +"To arbitrate! to arbitrate! when we are making money by having 'em quit." + +Miss Hitchcock turned apprehensively to her companion. Her handsome, clear +face was perplexed; she was distressed over the way the talk was going. + +"It's as bad as polo!" she exclaimed, in low tones. But the doctor did not +hear her. + +"Is it so," he was asking Colonel Hitchcock, "that the men who had been +thrifty enough to get homes outside of Pullman had to go first because they +didn't pay rent to the company? I heard the same story from a patient in +the hospital." + +By this time Caspar Porter had turned his attention to the conversation at +the other end of the table. His florid face was agape with astonishment at +the doctor's temerity. Parker Hitchcock shrugged his shoulders and +muttered something to Miss Lindsay. The older men moved in their chairs. +It was an unhappy topic for dinner conversation in this circle. + +"Well, I don't know," Colonel Hitchcock replied, a slight smile creeping +across his face. "Some say yes, and some say no. Perhaps Porter can tell +you." + +"We leave all that to the superintendent," the latter replied stiffly. "I +haven't looked into it. The works isn't a hospital." + +"That's a minor point," Carson added, in a high-pitched voice. "The real +thing is whether a corporation can manage its own affairs as it thinks best +or not." + +"The thrifty and the shiftless," interposed Dr. + +Lindsay, nodding to his young colleague. + +"Well, the directors are a unit. That settles the matter," Porter ended +dogmatically. "The men may starve, but they'll never get back now." + +The young doctor's face set in rather rigid lines. He had made a mistake, +had put himself outside the sympathies of this comfortable circle. Miss +Hitchcock was looking into the flowers in front of her, evidently searching +for some remark that would lead the dinner out of this uncomfortable +slough, when Brome Porter began again sententiously: + +"The laborer has got some hard lessons to learn. This trouble is only a +small part of the bigger trouble. He wants to get more than he is worth. +And all our education, the higher education, is a bad thing." He turned +with marked emphasis toward the young doctor. "That's why I wouldn't give a +dollar to any begging college--not a dollar to make a lot of discontented, +lazy duffers who go round exciting workingmen to think they're badly +treated. Every dollar given a man to educate himself above his natural +position is a dollar given to disturb society." + +Before Sommers could accept the challenge in this speech, Miss Hitchcock +asked,-- + +"But what did you do with your visitor, papa?" + +"Well, we had some more talk," he replied evasively. "Maybe that's why I +missed you, Brome, at the club. He stayed most an hour." + +"Did he go then?" the girl pressed on mischievously. + +"Well, I gave him a 'yob' over at the yards. It wasn't much of a 'yob' +though." + +This speech aroused some laughter, and the talk drifted on in little waves +into safer channels. The episode, however, seemed to have made an undue +impression upon Sommers. Miss Hitchcock's efforts to bring him into the +conversation failed. As for Mrs. Lindsay, he paid her not the slightest +attention. He was coolly taking his own time to think, without any sense of +social responsibility. + +"What is the matter?" his companion said to him at last, in her low, +insistent voice. "You are behaving so badly. Why won't you do anything one +wants you to?" + +Sommers glanced at his companion as if she had shaken him out of a dream. +Her dark eyes were gleaming with irritation, and her mouth trembled. + +"I had a vision," Sommers replied coolly. + +"Well!" The man's egotism aroused her impatience, but she lowered her head +to catch every syllable of his reply. + +"I seemed to see things in a flash--to feel an iron crust of prejudice." + +The girl's brow contracted in a puzzled frown, but she waited. The young +doctor tried again to phrase the matter. + +"These people--I mean your comfortable rich--seem to have taken a kind of +oath of self-preservation. To do what is expected of one, to succeed, you +must take the oath. You must defend their institutions, and all that," he +blundered on. + +"I don't know what you mean," the girl replied coolly, haughtily, raising +her head and glancing over the table. + +"I am not very clear. Perhaps I make a great deal of nothing. My remarks +sound 'young' even to me." + + +"I don't pretend to understand these questions. I wish men wouldn't talk +business at dinner. It is worse than polo!" + +She swept his face with a glance of distrust, the lids of her eyes half +lowered, as if to put a barrier between them. + +"Yes," Sommers assented; "it is harder to understand." + +It was curious, he thought, that a woman could take on the new rights, the +aristocratic attitude, so much more completely than a man. Miss Hitchcock +was a full generation ahead of the others in her conception of inherited, +personal rights. As the dinner dragged on, there occurred no further +opportunity for talk until near the end, when suddenly the clear, even +tones of Miss Hitchcock's voice brought his idle musing to an end. + +"I hope you will talk with Dr. Lindsay. He is a very able man. And," she +hesitated a moment and then looked frankly at him, "he can do so much for a +young doctor who has his way to make." + +"Don't you think that might make it harder for me to talk to him?" Sommers +asked, irritated by her lack of tact. + +The girl's face flushed, and she pressed her lips together as if to push +back a sharp reply. + +"That is unfair. We are going now--but sometime we must talk it out." + +The men stretched themselves and rearranged their chairs in little groups. +Parker Hitchcock, Carson, and young Porter--were talking horses; they made +no effort to include the young doctor in their corner. He was beginning to +feel uncomfortably stranded in the middle of the long room, when Dr. +Lindsay crossed to his side. The talk at dinner had not put the +distinguished specialist in a sympathetic light, but the younger man felt +grateful for this act of cordiality. They chatted about St. Isidore's, +about the medical schools in Chicago, and the medical societies. At last +Dr. Lindsay suggested casually, as he refilled his liqueur-glass: + +"You have made some plans?" + +"No, not serious ones. I have thought of taking a vacation. Then there is +another hospital berth I could have. Head of a small hospital in a mining +town. But I don't like to leave Chicago, on the whole." + +"You are right," the older physician remarked slowly. "Such a place would +bury you; you would never be heard of." + +Sommers smiled at the penalty held out, but he did not protest. + +"There isn't any career in hospital work, anyway, for a steady thing. You +get side-tracked." + +"I like it better than family practice," Sommers jerked out. "You don't +have to fuss with people, women especially. Then I like the excitement of +it." + +"That won't last long," the older man smiled indulgently. "And you'll have +a wife some day, who will make you take a different view. But there are +other things--office practice." + +He dilated on the advantages of office practice, while the younger man +smoked and listened deferentially. Office practice offered a pleasant +compromise between the strenuous scientific work of the hospital and the +grind of family practice. There were no night visits, no dreary work with +the poor--or only as much as you cared to do,--and it paid well, if you +took to it. Sommers reflected that the world said it paid Lindsay about +fifty thousand a year. It led, also, to lectureships, trusteeships--a mass +of affairs that made a man prominent and important in the community. + +Sommers listened attentively without questioning the agreeable, tactful +doctor. He could see that something was in the air, that Lindsay was not a +man to talk with this degree of intimacy out of pure charity or vanity. But +the great specialist said nothing very definite after all: he let fall, +casually, the fact that good men for office work--men of experience who +were skilful and tactful--were rare. He had just lost a valuable doctor +from his staff. + +When the men returned to the drawing-room, Parker Hitchcock and his cousin +took themselves off. The Lindsays went soon after. Sommers, who had +regained his good sense; tried to make his apologies to Miss Hitchcock. + +"Don't go yet," she answered cordially. "They will all be disposed of soon, +and we can have that talk. Go and look at my prints." + +In a few moments she came up behind him as he was studying the brush work +of a little canvas. "I have been thinking of what you said at the table, +Dr. Sommers. I have tried to think what you mean, but I can't." + +Her eyes opened in frank, tolerant inquiry. Sommers had seen her like this +a few times, and always with a feeling of nearness. + +"I don't believe that I can make you understand," he began. + +"Try!" + +"The feelings that make us act are generally too vague to be defended. All +that I could do would be to describe a mood, a passion that takes me now +and then, and makes me want to smash things." + +She nodded her head comprehendingly. + +"Yes, I know that." + +"Not from the same reason," Sommers laughed. + +"I will tell you what it is: you think the rich are unfair. You didn't like +Uncle Brome's talk about the Pullman people." + +"No, and more than that," he protested; "I don't know anything about the +Pullman matter; but I hate the--successful. I guess that's about it." + +"You think they are corrupt and luxurious and all that?" + +As she spoke she waved one hand negligently toward the Aurora in the hall. +They both laughed at the unspoken argument. + +"If you feel like that _here_--" + +"I feel that way pretty much all the time in America," he said bluntly. "It +isn't this house or that, this man's millions or that man's; it's the whole +thing." + +Miss Hitchcock looked nonplussed. + + +"Life is based on getting something others haven't,--as much of it as you +can and as fast as you can. I never felt that so constantly as I have the +last few months. Do you think," he went on hastily, "that Lindsay, that any +doctor, can _earn_ fifty thousand a year?" + +"I don't know. I hate views." Her voice sounded weary and defeated. + +Sommers rose to his feet, exclaiming, "I thought there were some pretty +definite ones, this evening." + +Miss Hitchcock started, but refused to take the challenge. + +They faced each other for a moment without speaking. Sommers could see that +his blundering words had placed him in a worse position than before. At the +same time he was aware that he regretted it; that "views" were +comparatively unimportant to a young woman; and that this woman, at least, +was far better than views. + +"Good night," she murmured, lowering her eyes as she gave him her hand. He +hesitated a moment, searching for an intelligent word, but finally he +turned away without any further attempt to explain himself. + +It was good to be out in the soft March night, to feel once more the free +streets, which alone carry the atmosphere of unprivileged humanity. The +mood of the evening was doubtless foolish, boyish, but it was none the less +keen and convincing. He had never before had the inner, unknown elements of +his nature so stirred; had never felt this blind, raging protest. +It was a muddle of impressions: the picture of the poor soul with his +clamor for a job; the satisfied, brutal egotism of Brome Porter, who lived +as if life were a huge poker game; the overfed, red-cheeked Caspar, whom he +remembered to have seen only once before, when the young polo captain was +stupid drunk; the silly young cub of a Hitchcock. Even the girl was one of +them. If it weren't for the women, the men would not be so keen on the +scent for gain. The women taught the men how to spend, created the needs +for their wealth. And the social game they were instituting in Chicago was +so emptily imitative, an echo of an echo! + +There was Carson: he was your image of modern power--the lean, hungry, +seamed face, surmounted by a dirty-gray pall. He was clawing his way to the +top of the heap. + +Sommers stopped to laugh at himself. His fury was foolish, a mere +generalization of discontent from very little data. Still, it was a relief +to be out in the purring night sounds. He had passed from the affluent +stone piles on the boulevard to the cheap flat buildings of a cross street. +His way lay through a territory of startling contrasts of wealth and +squalor. The public part of it--the street and the sidewalks--was equally +dirty and squalid, once off the boulevard. The cool lake wind was piping +down the cross streets, driving before it waste paper and dust. In his +preoccupation he stumbled occasionally into some stagnant pool. + +Should he take Lindsay's job, if he had the chance? Obstinately his mind +reverted to a newspaper paragraph that had caught his eye months before: on +the occasion of some disturbance over women students in the Western Medical +College, Dr. Lindsay had told the men that "physicians should be especially +considerate of women, if for no other reason, _because their success in +their profession would depend very largely on women_." Certainly, if he +had to decide to-night, he would rather return to Marion, Ohio, than join +his staff. Such a retreat from the glories of Chicago would be +inconceivable to old Hitchcock and to the girl. He reflected that he should +not like to put himself away from her forever. + +St. Isidore's loomed ahead in the quiet street, its windows dark except for +the night light in the ward kitchens. He should like to turn in there for a +few minutes, to see how the fellow was coming on. The brute ought not to +pull through. But it was too late: a new regime had begun; his little +period of sway had passed, leaving as a last proof of his art this human +jetsam saved for the nonce. And there rose in his heated mind the pitiful +face of a resolute woman, questioning him: "You held the keys of life and +death. Which have you given _me_?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The Athenian Building raises its knife-like facade in the centre of +Chicago, thirteen stories in all; to the lake it presents a broad wall of +steel and glass. It is a hive of doctors. Layer after layer, their offices +rise, circling the gulf of the elevator-well. At the very crown of the +building Dr. Frederick H. Lindsay and his numerous staff occupy almost the +entire floor. In one corner, however, a small room embedded in the heavy +cornice is rented by a dentist, Dr. Ephraim Leonard. The dentist's office +is a snug little hole, scarcely large enough for a desk, a chair, a case of +instruments, a "laboratory," and a network of electric appliances. From the +one broad window the eye rests upon the blue shield of lake; nearer, almost +at the foot of the building, run the ribboned tracks of the railroad yards. +They disappear to the south in a smoky haze; to the north they end at the +foot of a lofty grain elevator. Beyond, factories quietly belch sooty +clouds. + +Dr. Lindsay coveted this office, but Dr. Leonard clung tenaciously to his +little strip, every inch that he could possibly pay rent for. He had been +there since that story was finished. The broad view rested him. When he +ceased to peer into a patient's mouth, he pushed up his spectacles and took +a long look over the lake. Sometimes, if the patient was human and had +enough temperament to appreciate his treasure, he would idle away a quarter +of an hour chatting, enjoying the sun and the clear air of the lake. When +the last patient had gone, he would take the chair and have the view to +himself, as from a proscenium box. + +The little office was a busy place: besides the patients there were coming +and going a stream of people,--agents, canvassers, acquaintances, and +promoters of schemes. A scheme was always brewing in the dentist's office. +Now it was a plan to exploit a new suburb innumerable miles to the west. +Again it was a patent contrivance in dentistry. Sometimes the scheme was +nothing more than a risky venture in stocks. These affairs were conducted +with an air of great secrecy in violent whisperings, emphasized by blows of +the fist upon the back of the chair. The favored patients were deftly +informed of "a good thing," the dentist taking advantage of the one +inevitable moment of receptivity for his thrifty promotions. The schemes, +it must be said, had never come to much. If Dr. Leonard had survived +without any marked loss a dozen years of venturing, he might be said to +have succeeded. He had no time for other games; this was his poker. They +were always the schemes of little people, very complex in organization, +needing a wheel here, a cog there, finally breaking down from the lack of +capital. Then some "big people" collected the fragments to cast them into +the pot once more. Dr. Leonard added another might-have-been and a new sigh +to the secret chamber of his soul. But his face was turned outward to +receive the next scheme. + +This time it happened to be a wonderful new process of evolving gas from +dirt and city refuse. He had been explaining it gently to a woman in the +chair, from pure intellectual interest, to distract the patient's mind. He +was not tinkering with teeth this time, however. The woman was sitting in +the chair because it was the only unoccupied space. She had removed her hat +and was looking steadily into the lake. At last, when the little office +clerk had left, the talk about the gas generator ceased, and the woman +turned her wistful face to the old dentist. There was a sombre pause. + +"Yes," the dentist muttered finally, "I saw it in the paper Tuesday, no, +Monday--it was Monday, wasn't it? and I hoped you'd come in." + +The woman moved her hands restlessly, as if to ask where else she could go. + +"They most always do turn up," he continued bluntly; "them that no one +wants, like your husband. What are you going to do?" + +The woman turned her face back to the lake; it was evident that she had no +plan. + +"I thought," the dentist began, recalling her story, "I thought when you'd +started in the schools--it was a mighty hard thing to do to get you in; it +took all my pull on Mahoney." + +The woman's face flushed. "I know," she murmured. "They don't want married +women. But if it hadn't been for Mahoney--" + +"Then," interrupted the dentist, "he'd been good enough to let you alone +for most a year, and I thought you were out of your troubles." + +"I knew he would come back," she interposed quietly. + +"But now he comes back just as everything is nice, and worse, you come +across him when he is nigh bein' shot to death. Then, worse yet, by what +the papers said, you went to the hospital with him and gave the whole thing +away. When I saw the name, Alves Preston, printed out, I swore." + +Mrs. Preston smiled at his vehemence. + +"Tell me, Alves," the old man asked in a rambling manner, "how did you ever +come to marry him? I've wanted to ask you that from the first." + +Mrs. Preston rose from the chair and pulled her cloak about her. + +"I couldn't make you understand; I don't myself _now_." + +"D'yer love him?" the dentist persisted, not ungently. + +"Should I be here if I did?" she flashed resentfully. "I was a country girl +away at school, more foolish than one of those dumb Swedes in my class, and +he--" + +But she turned again to the window, with an impatient gesture. + +"It is something wrong in a woman," she murmured. "But she has no chance, +no chance. I can't tell you now all the things." + +"Well," the dentist said soothingly, "let's see just how bad it is. Has +your boss, the superintendent, or the principal spoke to you, turned you +out? I see the reporter went around to the school, nosing after something." + +"They'd just transferred me--miles south," she answered indifferently. "I +was glad of it. I don't have to meet the spying, talking teachers, and +think all the time the pupils know it from their parents. They're all +foreigners where I am now. They say the Everglade school is the next thing +to the last. It's a kind of Purgatory, where they keep you for a few months +before they dismiss you." + +"I didn't know any one was ever dismissed from a Chicago school," the +dentist remarked. + +"Oh, sometimes when the superintendents or the supervisors don't want you. +There is a supervisor in the Everglade district--" she stopped a moment, +and then continued tranquilly--"he was very intimate at first. I thought he +wanted to help me to get on in the school. But he wanted--other things. +Perhaps when he doesn't--succeed--that will be the end." + +"It'll blow over," the dentist said encouragingly. "If the supervisor +troubles you much, I'll see Mahoney. You've changed your boarding-place?" + +"Yes--but," she admitted in a moment, "they know it at the hospital." + +Dr. Leonard rubbed his bristly face irritably. + +"I've been to see him--it seemed I ought to--I was the only one who +WOULD in the whole world--the only one to speak a word to him." + +"That makes it worse," the dentist commented depressingly. "I don't know as +you could get free now if you wanted to. You've put your hand to the plough +again, my girl, and it's a long furrow." + +"What do you mean?" + +"The hospital folks know you're his wife, and they'll expect you to take +him in when he gets better." + +"I suppose so," Mrs. Preston admitted. "But I suppose, anyway, I should +take care of him until he can go away." + +Dr. Leonard threw up his hands in disgust. + +"Alves, why don't you go straight off and get a divorce--for desertion?" + +Mrs. Preston opened the heavy lids of her eyes; her face slowly flushed. + +"That would be the end of it?" she asked, in a low voice. + +"Of course! I'll give you the money, and testify for you. Go right ahead, +now he is laid up, and have it all ready when he gets out." + +"I couldn't do that," Mrs. Preston answered, the color fading from her +face, and the white lids closing over the eyes. "Besides, he may never +recover fully. I don't think they expect him to at the hospital." + +"All the more reason," protested the dentist. "It's mighty hard," he added +sympathetically. "Women are mostly children, the better sort, and you feel +bad, even when they're in trouble through their own foolishness." + +"There is no release, no divorce," Mrs. Preston continued. "A thing is +done, and it's done. There's no ending it in this life. You can run away, +or close your eyes, but you don't escape. He has been--my husband." + +"That's silly! Now let me tell you what I'll do." The dentist squared +himself and raised the little lignum-vitae mallet, which he used to drive +home his fillings. + +"Don't you fool round any more. You can't love that fellow,--think you +never did now,--and he's given you no reason to be very nice to him. You +just drop him where you are, and start out alone and make the best of it. +You can't do that in Chicago now. Get out of Chicago to-morrer. Go east. +Take your maiden name; no one is goin' to be hurt by not knowin' you're +married. I guess you ain't likely to try it again." + +He paused for objections, and evidently found one himself. + +"If you ain't got the money handy, I'll just fix you up. That gas generator +I was talking to you about is going to make me mints of money. You can go +right away to my sister-in-law in Worcester, Ohio. Guess _he_ won't +trouble you much there. What do you say?" + +She had nothing very cogent to say, but the dentist felt an impalpable +obstruction of will, unintelligible and persistent. His enthusiasm grew as +he perfected the details of his plan. It was a new kind of scheme, in which +he took the artistic delight of the incorrigible promoter. His imagination +once enlisted for the plan, he held to it, arguing, counselling, bullying. +"If it's the money," he ended, "you needn't bother. I'll just put it on the +bill. When I am rich, it won't make no difference, nor when you are, +either." + +Mrs. Preston took one of his furry hands in hers, and pressed it. She knew +that the ventures had not yet made him rich. Thirty years in Chicago had +not filled his purse. + +"I'd do it for you, same as for one of my daughters. It's just as easy as +having a tooth out, and you start over as good as new." + +"It isn't that," she smiled. "You can't start over as good as new if you +are a woman. I couldn't run away. I've put myself into it a second time, +without thinking. I chose then just as before, when I followed him to the +hospital. When the doctor asked me if he should try to save his life, I +wanted him to die--oh, how I longed that the doctor would refuse to try! +Well, he's alive. It is for life." + +She seemed to see before her a long, toilsome ascent, to which she had been +driven to put her feet. + +"Think it over," the dentist counselled at last, despondently. "Sleep on +it. There's Worcester, Ohio, and my sister-in-law." + +Mrs. Preston smiled, and put on her hat. + +"I've taken a lot of your time." + +"That's no account, but I can't see what you came for. You won't let a +feller help you." + +"There wasn't any good reason. I came because I was awfully lonely. There +isn't a soul that I can speak out to, except you. You don't know what that +means. I go about in the schoolroom, and up and down the streets, and see +things--horrible things. The world gets to be one big torture chamber, and +then I have to cry out. I come to you to cry out,--because you really care. +Now I can go away, and keep silent for a long time." + +"You make too much of it," the dentist protested. He busied himself in +putting the little steel instruments into their purple plush beds and +locking the drawers. + +"Yes, I make too much of it," Mrs. Preston acknowledged quietly, as she +opened the door. "Good night." + +"I guess she loves him still and don't like to own it. Women are generally +so," the dentist commented, when he was left alone. He picked up a sheaf of +stock certificates and eyed them critically. "They're nicer than the Placer +Mining ones. They just look fit to eat." + +He locked the certificates of stock in the new company into a tiny safe, +and prepared to pull down the shade. In the railroad yards below, the great +eyes of the locomotives glared though the March dusk. As the suburban +trains pulled out from minute to minute, thick wreaths of smoke shot up +above the white steam blasts of the surrounding buildings. The smoke and +steam were sucked together into the vortex of a cross street. + +'I wished I hadn't let her go alone,' the dentist mused. 'Some day she'll +just go over there into the lake.' + +When Mrs. Preston shut the dentist's door behind her, an office door on the +opposite side of the hall opened abruptly, and a young man strode into the +hall. She recognized him as the young surgeon who had operated upon her +husband at St. Isidore's. She stepped behind the iron grating of the +elevator well and watched him as he waited for the steel car to bob up from +the lower stories. She was ashamed to meet him, especially now that she +felt committed to the sordid future. + +The little car arrived; the doctor stepped in and disappeared. The door +from which he came was covered with a long list of names. She read the name +freshly painted in at the bottom,--Dr. Howard Sommers. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +For Sommers had joined the staff of the great specialist, and resorted +daily to the busy offices in the Athenian Building. A brief vacation had +served to convince him of the folly that lay in indulging a parcel of +incoherent prejudices at the expense of even that somewhat nebulous thing +popularly called a "career." Dr. Lindsay made flattering offers; the work +promised to be light, with sufficient opportunity for whatever hospital +practice he cared to take; and the new aspect of his profession--commercial +medicine he dubbed it--was at least entertaining. If one wished to see the +people of Chicago at near range,--those who had made the city what it is, +and were making it what it will be,--this was pretty nearly the best chance +in the world. + +When he had mentioned Lindsay's offer to Dresser, who was rising at +laborious hours and toiling in the McNamara and Hill's offices, he realized +how unmentionable and trifling were his grounds for hesitation. Dresser's +enthusiasm almost persuaded him that Lindsay had given him something +valuable. And if he found it difficult to explain his distaste for the +thing to Dresser, what would he have to say to other people--to the +Hitchcocks? Yet he made his reservations to himself at least: he was not +committed to his "career"; he should be merely a spectator, a free-lance, a +critic, who keeps the precious treasure of his own independence. Almost at +the start, however, he was made to realize that this nonchalance, which +vindicated himself in his own eyes, could not be evident to others. As he +was entering the Athenian hive one morning, he passed the Hitchcock +brougham drawn up by the curb near a jeweller's shop. Miss Hitchcock, who +was preparing to alight, gave him a cordial smile and an intelligent glance +that was not without a trace of malice. When he crossed the pavement to +speak to her, she fulfilled the malice of her glance: + +"You find Dr. Lindsay isn't so bad, after all?" There was no time for +explanation. She passed on into the jeweller's with another smile on her +mobile face. He had to do his stammering to himself, annoyed at the quip of +triumph, at the blithe sneer, over his young vaporings. This trivial +annoyance was accentuated by the effusive cordiality of the great Lindsay, +whom he met in the elevator. Sommers did not like this _camaraderie_ +of manner. He had seen Lindsay snub many a poor interne. In his mail, this +same morning, came a note from Mrs. E. G. Carson, inviting him to dinner: a +sign that something notable was expected of his career, for the Carsons +were thrifty of their favors, and were in no position to make social +experiments. Such was the merry way of the world, elsewhere as here, he +reflected, as he turned to the routine of the day. + +The office was in full blast: the telephones rang sharply every few +minutes, telling in their irritable little clang of some prosperous patient +who desired a panacea for human ailments; the reception-room was already +crowded with waiting patients of the second class, those who could not +command appointments by telephone. Whenever the door into this room opened, +these expectant ones moved nervously, each one hoping to be called. Then, +as the door into the private offices closed, the ones left behind fell back +with sighs to the magazines and illustrated papers with which they sought +to distract their fears or their ennui. + +The thin, tall building shivered slightly at the blows of the fresh April +wind. The big windows of the reception-room admitted broad bands of +sunlight. The lake dazzled beneath in gorgeous green and blue shades. +Spring had bustled into town from the prairies, insinuating itself into the +dirty, cavernous streets, sailing in boisterously over the gleaming lake, +eddying in steam wreaths about the lofty buildings. The subtle monitions of +the air permeated the atmosphere of antiseptics in the office, and whipped +the turbulent spirits of Sommers until, at the lunch hour, he deserted the +Athenian Building and telephoned for his horse. + +This saddle horse was one of the compensations for conformity. He had been +too busy lately, however, to enjoy it. From the bellow of the city he +cantered down the boulevards toward the great parks. As he passed the +Hitchcock house he was minded to see if Miss Hitchcock would join him. In +the autumn she had ridden with him occasionally, waiving conventionalities, +but lately she had made excuses. He divined that Parker Hitchcock had +sneered at such countrified behavior. She was to go away in a few days for +a round of visits in the South, and he wanted to see her; but a carriage +drew up before the house, and his horse carried him briskly past down the +avenue. From one boulevard to another he passed, keeping his eyes straight +ahead, avoiding the sight of the comfortable, ugly houses, anxious to +escape them and their associations, pressing on for a beyond, for something +other than this vast, roaring, complacent city. The great park itself was +filled with people, carriages, bicycles. A stream of carts and horse-back +riders was headed for the Driving Club, where there was tennis and the new +game of golf. But Sommers turned his horse into the disfigured Midway, +where the Wreck of the Fair began. He came out, finally, on a broad stretch +of sandy field, south of the desolate ruins of the Fair itself. The horse +picked his way daintily among the debris of staff and wood that lay +scattered about for acres. A wagon road led across this waste land toward +the crumbling Spanish convent. In this place there was a fine sense of +repose, of vast quiet. Everything was dead; the soft spring air gave no +life. Even in the geniality of the April day, with the brilliant, +theatrical waters of the lake in the distance, the scene was gaunt, savage. +To the north, a broad dark shadow that stretched out into the lake defined +the city. Nearer, the ample wings of the white Art Building seemed to stand +guard against the improprieties of civilization. To the far south, a line +of thin trees marked the outer desert of the prairie. Behind, in the west, +were straggling flat-buildings, mammoth deserted hotels, one of which was +crowned with a spidery steel tower. Nearer, a frivolous Grecian temple had +been wheeled to the confines of the park, and dumped by the roadside to +serve as a saloon. + +Sommers rose in his stirrups and gazed about him over the rotting buildings +of the play-city, the scrawny acres that ended in the hard black line of +the lake, the vast blocks of open land to the south, which would go to make +some new subdivision of the sprawling city. Absorbed, charmed, grimly +content with the abominable desolation of it all, he stood and gazed. No +evidence of any plan, of any continuity in building, appeared upon the +waste: mere sporadic eruptions of dwellings, mere heaps of brick and mortar +dumped at random over the cheerless soil. Above swam the marvellous +clarified atmosphere of the sky, like iridescent gauze, showering a +thousand harmonies of metallic colors. Like a dome of vitrified glass, it +shut down on the illimitable, tawdry sweep of defaced earth. + +The horse started: a human figure, a woman's dress, disturbing here in the +desert expanse, had moved in front of him. Sommers hit the horse with his +crop and was about to gallop on, when something in the way the woman held +herself caught his attention. She was leaning against the wind, her skirt +streaming behind her, her face thrust into the air. Sommers reined in his +horse and jumped down. + +"How is your husband?" he asked brusquely. + +Mrs. Preston looked up with a smile of glad recognition, but she did not +answer immediately. + +"You remember, don't you?" the doctor said kindly. "You are Mrs. Preston, +aren't you? I am the doctor who operated on your husband a few weeks ago at +the hospital." + +"Yes, I remember," she replied, almost sullenly. + +"How is he? I left St. Isidore's the next day. Is he still in the +hospital?" + +"They discharged him last Monday," Mrs. Preston answered, in the same dull +tone. + +"Ah!" The doctor jerked the bridle which he held in his left hand and +prepared to mount. "So he made a quick recovery." + +"No, no! I didn't say that," she replied passionately. "You knew, you knew +_that_ couldn't be. He has--he is--I don't know how to say it." + +Sommers slipped the bridle-rein over the horse's head and walked on by her +side. She looked down at the roadway, as if to hide her burning face. + +"Where is he now?" the doctor asked, finally, more gently. + +"With me, down there." Mrs. Preston waved her hand vaguely toward the +southern prairie. They began to walk more briskly, with a tacit purpose in +their motion. When the wagon road forked, Mrs. Preston took the branch that +led south out of the park. It opened into a high-banked macadamized avenue +bordered by broken wooden sidewalks. The vast flat land began to design +itself, as the sun faded out behind the irregular lines of buildings two +miles to the west. A block south, a huge red chimney was pouring tranquilly +its volume of dank smoke into the air. On the southern horizon a sooty +cloud hovered above the mills of South Chicago. But, except for the monster +chimney, the country ahead of the two was bare, vacant, deserted. The +avenue traversed empty lots, mere squares of sand and marsh, cut up in +regular patches for future house-builders. Here and there an advertising +landowner had cemented a few rods of walk and planted a few trees to trap +the possible purchaser into thinking the place "improved." But the cement +walks were crumbling, the trees had died, and rank thorny weeds choked +about their roots. The cross streets were merely lined out, a deep ditch on +either side of an embankment. + +"My God, what a place!" the young doctor exclaimed. "The refuse acres of +the earth." + +The woman smiled bitterly, tranquilly, while her glance roamed over the +familiar landscape. + +"Yet it is better than the rest, back there," she protested, in a low +voice. "At least, there is something open, and a little green in spring, +and the nights are calm. It seems the least little bit like what it used to +be in Wisconsin on the lake. But there we had such lovely woodsy hills, and +great meadows, and fields with cattle, and God's real peace, not this +vacuum." Her voice grew faint. + +"You liked it there?" the doctor asked musingly. + +"It's all that I have ever known that was--as it should be. My father had a +farm," she explained more easily, "and until he died and I was sent to +Rockminster College to school, my life was there, by the lake, on the farm, +at the seminary on the hill, where my brother was studying--" + +The visions of the past developed with endless clews, which she could not +follow aloud. After waiting for her to resume, Sommers asked tentatively: + +"Why don't you go back, then?" + +She flashed a rapid, indignant glance at him. + +"Now! Go back to what?--With _him_!" + +Her lips set tight. He had been stupid, had hit at random. + +"No, no," she continued, answering her own heart; "they would never +understand. There is never any going back--and, sometimes, not much going +ahead," she ended, with an effort to laugh. + +They stopped while the horse nibbled at a tall weed in the roadway. They +had got fairly into the prairie, and now at some distance on left and right +gawky Queen Anne houses appeared. But along their path the waste was +unbroken. The swamp on either side of the road was filled with birds, who +flew in and out and perched on the dry planks in the walks. An abandoned +electric-car track, raised aloft on a high embankment, crossed the avenue. +Here and there a useless hydrant thrust its head far above the muddy soil, +sometimes out of the swamp itself. They had left the lake behind them, but +the freshening evening breeze brought its damp breath across their faces. + +"How came you to get into this spot?" the doctor asked, after his searching +eyes had roamed over the misty landscape, half swamp, half city suburb. + +"I was transferred--about the time of the operation. My school is over +there," she pointed vaguely toward the southwest. "I could not afford to +live any distance from the school," she added bluntly. "Besides, I wanted +to be alone." + +So she taught, Sommers reflected, yet she had none of the professional air, +the faded niceness of face and manner which he associated with the city +school-teacher. + +"I haven't taught long," she volunteered, "only about a year. First I was +over by Lincoln Park, near where I had been living." + +"Do you like the teaching?" Sommers asked. + +"I hate it," she remarked calmly, without any show of passion. "It takes a +little of one's life every day, and leaves you a little more dead." + +They walked in silence for a few minutes, and then Mrs. Preston suddenly +stopped. + +"Why do you come?" she exclaimed. "Why do you want to know? It can do no +good,--I know it can do no good, and it is worse to have any +one--_you_--know the hateful thing. I want to crush it in myself, +never to tell, no,--no one," she stopped incoherently. + +"I shall go," the doctor replied calmly, compassionately. "And it is best +to tell." + +Her rebellious face came back to its wonted repose. + +"Yes, I suppose I make it worse. It is best to tell--sometime." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +As they proceeded, more briskly now, she talked of her life in the Chicago +schools. She had taken the work when nothing else offered in the day of her +calamity. She described the struggle for appointment. If it had not been +for her father's old friend, a dentist, she would never have succeeded in +entering the system. A woman, she explained, must be a Roman Catholic, or +have some influence with the Board, to get an appointment. Qualifications? +She had had a better education in the Rockminster school than was required, +but if a good-natured schoolteacher hadn't coached her on special points in +pedagogy, school management, nature-study, etc., she would never have +passed the necessary examinations. + +In an impersonal way she described the life of a teacher in a great +American school system: its routine, its spying supervision, its +injustices, its mechanical ideals, its one preeminent ambition to teach as +many years as it was necessary to obtain a pension. There were the +superintendents, the supervisors, the special teachers, the +principals--petty officers of a petty tyranny in which too often seethed +gossip, scandal, intrigue. There were the "soft places"; the deceitful, the +easy, the harsh principals; the teachers' institutes to which the poor +teacher was forced to pay her scanty dollars. There were bulletins, rules, +counter-rules. As she talked, Sommers caught the atmosphere of the great +engine to which she had given herself. A mere isolated atom, she was set in +some obscure corner of this intricate machine, and she was compelled to +revolve with the rest, as the rest, in the fear of disgrace and of hunger. +The terms "special teachers," "grades of pay," "constructive work," +"discipline," etc., had no special significance to him, typifying merely +the exactions of the mill, the limitations set about the human atom. + +Her manner of telling it all was unpremeditated, incoherent, and +discursive, and yet strangely effective. She described the contortions of +her kaleidoscope as they came to mind haphazard, with an indifference, a +precise objectivity that made the picture all the more real and universal, +not the special story of the special case. + +"The first weeks I was nearly lost; the drawing teacher didn't like me, and +reported my room for disorder; the 'cat'--that is what they call the +principal--kept running in and watching, and the pupils--there were +seventy-five--I could barely keep them quiet. There was no teaching. How +could one teach all those? Most of our time, even in 'good' rooms, is taken +up in keeping order. I was afraid each day would be my last, when Miss +M'Gann, who was the most friendly one of the teachers, told me what to do. +'Give the drawing teacher something nice from your lunch, and ask her in to +eat with you. She is an ignorant old fool, but her brother is high up in a +German ward. And give the cat taffy. Ask him how he works out the +arithmetic lessons, and about his sassing the assistant superintendent, and +make yourself agreeable.' + +"I did as I was told," she ended with a smile, "and things went better for +a time. But there was always the married teachers' scare. Every month or so +some one starts the rumor that the Board is going to remove all married +teachers; there are complaints that the married women crowd out the +girls--those who have to support themselves." + +They both laughed at the irony of the argument, and their laugh did much to +do away with the constraint, the tension of their mood. More gayly she +mentioned certain farcical incidents. + +"Once I saw a principal hurl a book at a sleepy teacher, who was nodding in +his lecture at the Institute. Poor woman! she is so nearly deaf that she +can hear nothing, and they say she can never remember where the lessons +are: the pupils conduct the recitations. But she has taught in that school +for twenty-three years, and she is a political influence in the ward. +Imagine it!" + +They laughed again, and the world seemed lighter. Sommers looked at his +companion more closely and appreciatively. Her tone of irony, of amused and +impartial spectatorship, entertained him. Would he, caught like this, +wedged into an iron system, take it so lightly, accept it so humanly? It +was the best the world held out for her: to be permitted to remain in the +system, to serve out her twenty or thirty years, drying up in the thin, hot +air of the schoolroom; then, ultimately, when released, to have the means +to subsist in some third-rate boarding-house until the end. Or marry again? +But the dark lines under the eyes, the curve of experience at the mouth, +did not warrant that supposition. She had had her trial of that +alternative. + +She did not question him, and evinced no curiosity about his world. She had +touched it on the extreme edge, and she was content with that, satisfied +probably that this unexpected renewal of their connection was most +casual--too fortunate to happen again. So she took him into a perfectly +easy intimacy; it was the nearness that comes between two people when there +is slight probability of a common future. + +At last she turned into one of the streets that crossed the avenue at long +intervals. This one was more developed than those they had passed: a row of +gigantic telephone poles stretched along its side; two car tracks in use +indicated that it was a thoroughfare. At the corner there was an +advertising sign of The Hub Clothing House; and beneath, on one spoke of a +tiny hub, _This is Ninety-first Street_; and at right angles on +another spoke, _This is Washington Avenue_. He remembered vaguely +having seen a Washington Avenue miles to the north. The thing had been +drawn on the map by a ruler, without regard to habitations; on the map it +probably went on into Indiana, to the Ohio River,--to the Gulf for all he +knew. + +Yet the cross-road was more promising than anything they had met: a truck +farm bordered one side; a line of tall willows suggested faintly the +country. Just beyond the tracks of a railroad the ground rose almost +imperceptibly, and a grove of stunted oaks covered the miniature hill. The +bronzed leaves still hanging from the trees made something like shade +beside the road. + +"That is better," Sommers exclaimed, relieved to find a little oasis in the +desert of sand and weeds. + +The woman smiled. "It is almost a forest; it runs south for a block. And +beyond there is the loveliest meadow, all tender green now. Over there you +can see the Everglade School, where I spend my days. The people are Swedes, +mostly,--operatives in the factories at Grand Crossing and on the +railroads. Many of the children can scarcely understand a word of +English,--and their habits! But they are better than the Poles, in the +Halsted Street district, or the Russians in another West Side district. And +we have a brick building, not rooms rented in a wooden house. And the +principal is an old woman, too fat to climb all the stairs to my room. So I +am left alone to reign among my young barbarians." + +When they reached the grove, Mrs. Preston crossed the car tracks and +entered a little grassy lane that skirted the stunted oaks. A few hundred +feet from the street stood a cottage built of yellow "Milwaukee" brick. It +was quite hidden from the street by the oak grove. The lane ended just +beyond in a tangle of weeds and undergrowth. On the west side there was an +open, marshy lot which separated the cottage in the trees from Stoney +Island Avenue,--the artery that connects Pullman and the surrounding +villages with Chicago. + +An old German had lived in it, Mrs. Preston explained, until his death a +year or two ago. He had a little chicken farm. As no one else wanted to +live in such a desolate place, so far from the scattered hamlets, she had +got it for a small rent. The house was a tiny imitation of a castle, with +crenelated parapet and tower. Crumbling now and weather-stained, it had a +quaint, human, wistful air. Its face was turned away from the road toward a +bit of garden, which was fenced off from the lane by arbors of grape-vines. + +Sommers tied his horse to the gate post. Mrs. Preston did not speak after +they reached the house. Her face had lost its animation. They stood still +for some time, gazing into the peaceful garden plot and the bronzed oaks +beyond, as if loath to break the intimacy of the last half hour. In the +solitude, the dead silence of the place, there seemed to lurk misfortune +and pain. Suddenly from a distance sounded the whirr of an electric car, +passing on the avenue behind them. The noise came softened across the open +lot--a distant murmur from the big city that was otherwise so remote. + +The spring twilight had descended, softening all brutal details. The broad +horizon above the lake was piled deep with clouds. Beyond the oak trees, in +the southern sky, great tongues of flame shot up into the dark heavens out +of the blast furnaces of the steel works. Deep-toned, full-throated frogs +had begun their monotonous chant. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"Shall we go in?" the doctor asked at last. + +Mrs. Preston started, and her hand closed instinctively upon the gate, as +if to bar further entrance to her privacy. Then without reply she opened +the gate, led the way across the tiny lawn, and unlocked the cottage door. +They entered a large room, from which some narrow stairs led to the +chambers above. Floor and walls were bare, and the only furniture consisted +of two wooden chairs, a small coal-stove, and a pine table of considerable +size. This was covered with books, school exercises, and a few dishes. Mrs. +Preston brusquely flung off her cape and hat, and faced the doctor. + +"I might as well tell you the main thing before you see him. He--" + +"That is scarcely necessary," Sommers replied gently. "I probably know what +you are thinking of." + +A flush, caused by the revealed shame, crept over her face, lighting it to +the extreme corners under the temples and ears. As she stood there, +humiliated, yet defiant of him and of the world, Sommers remembered the +first time he had seen her that night at the hospital. He read her, +somehow, extraordinarily well; he knew the misery, the longing, the anger, +the hate, the stubborn power to fight. Her deep eyes glanced at him +frankly, willing to be read by this stranger out of the multitude of men. +They had no more need of words now than at that first moment in the +operating room at St. Isidore's. They were man and woman, in the presence +of a fate that could not be softened by words. + +"You are right," she said softly. "Yet sometime I want to tell you +things--not now. I will go and see how he is." + +When she had left the room, Sommers examined the few objects about him in +the manner of a man who draws his conclusions from innumerable, +imponderable data. Then he took a chair to the window and sat down. She was +very real to him, this woman, and compelling, with her silences, her broken +phrases. Rarely, very rarely before in his life, had he had this experience +of intimacy without foreknowledge, without background--the sense of dealing +with a human soul nakedly. + +"Will you come now?" + +Mrs. Preston had returned and held the stair-door open for him. Sommers +looked at her searchingly, curious to find where this power lay. Her face +had grown white and set. The features and the figure were those of a large +woman. Her hair, bronzed in the sunlight as he remembered, was dark in the +gloom of this room. The plain, symmetrical arrangement of the hair above +the large brow and features made her seem older than she was. The deep-set +eyes, the quivering lips, and the thin nostrils gave life to the passive, +restrained face. The passions of her life lay just beneath the surface of +flesh. + +"He is very talkative, and wanders--" + +The doctor nodded and followed her up the steep stairs, which were closed +at the head by a stout door. The upper story was divided about equally into +two rooms. The east room, to which Mrs. Preston opened the door, was +plainly furnished, yet in comparison with the room below it seemed almost +luxurious. Two windows gave a clear view above the little oak copse, the +lines of empty freight cars on the siding, and a mile of low meadow that +lay between the cottage and the fringe of settlement along the lake. +Through another window at the north the bleak prospect of Stoney Island +Avenue could be seen, flanked on one side by a huge sign over a saloon. +Near this window on a lounge lay the patient. + +Preston's personal appearance had not improved during his illness: his +face, over the lower half of which a black beard had grown rankly, was +puffy with convalescent fat. His hands that drummed idly against the couch +were white and flabby. As he half rose and extended his hand to the doctor, +he betrayed, indefinably, remote traces of superior breeding. + +"Excuse me, doctor," he said apologetically. "Mrs. Preston keeps me a close +prisoner. But she won't have the whip-hand very long." + +He laughed boisterously, as Sommers shook hands and sat down. + +"Women know they've got you while you are sick. They like to keep an eye on +a man, eh?" + +He laughed again, confidentially, as if the doctor, being a man, would +appreciate the point. Then he continued, nervously, without pause: + +"But I have some business to attend to. I must get out of this as soon as +you can patch me up so I can walk straight. I ought to have been in Denver +a month ago. There's a man out there, who comes in from his ranch two +hundred miles to see me. He is a fine fellow, strapping, big six-footer. +_He_ knows how to put in his time day and night, when he gets to town. +I remember one time we were in Frisco together--ever been in Frisco? It's a +great place for a good dinner, and all you want to drink. Drink--my! I've +seen the time--" + +He rambled on, now and then pausing to laugh boisterously at some +recollection. As his whirligig tale touched upon indecent episodes, his +voice lowered and he sought for convenient euphemisms, helped out by +sympathetic nods. Mrs. Preston made several attempts to interrupt his +aimless, wandering talk; but he started again each time, excited by the +presence of the doctor. His mind was like a bag of loosely associated +ideas. Any jar seemed to set loose a long line of reminiscences, very +vaguely connected. The doctor encouraged him to talk, to develop himself, +to reveal the story of his roadside debaucheries. He listened attentively, +evincing an interest in the incoherent tale. Mrs. Preston watched the +doctor's face with restless eyes. + +Finally Preston ended his husky monotone in a querulous entreaty. "I need a +little whiskey to keep me going. Tell _her_, won't you?--to let me +have a little drink. My regular allowance was a pint a day, and I haven't +had a drop for four weeks. Your Chicago whiskey is rotten bad, though, I +tell you. I just stepped into a place to get a drink with Joe Campbell--his +father owns a big pulp mill in Michigan--well--we had one or two drinks, +and the first thing I knew there was shooting all over the place, and some +one grabbed me, and I was thrown into the street--" + +Mrs. Preston exclaimed, "Do you want to hear _more_?" + +Sommers rose. "I'll come again to see you, Mr. Preston, and I will leave +something that will help you. Good night." + +"It was good of you to take this interest, doctor. I am glad to have met +you, Doctor--?" + +"Sommers," suggested the doctor, smiling at the evidences of forgotten +breeding that cropped out of the general decay. + +"Well, Dr. Sommers, I hope we shall meet again when I am more myself." + + +When they returned to the room below, Mrs. Preston lit a lamp. After some +minutes Sommers asked, "How long has this been going on?" + +"For years--before he left college; he was taken out of Yale because of it. +All I know is what he tells when he is not--responsible." + +"Ah!" the doctor exclaimed involuntarily. + +"_I_ never knew," Mrs. Preston added quickly, "until we had been +married a year. He was away so much of the time, and he was very different +then--I mean he didn't ramble on as he does now. He was not flabby and +childish, not before the operation." + +The doctor turned his face away. + +"About two years ago some of the men he was with brought him home, drunk. +Afterward he didn't seem to care. But he was away most of the time, +travelling, going from place to place, always living in hotels, always +drinking until some illness brought him back." + +"And this time?" the doctor asked. + +Mrs. Preston shut her lips, as if there were things she could not say yet. + +"I was not living with him." In a few moments, she continued quietly: "I +suppose I should have been but for one thing. He told me he was going to +New York, and I found him with another woman, living in a hotel not a mile +from our home. I don't know why I should have made so much of that. I had +suspected for months that there were other women; but seeing it, knowing +that he knew I had seen it! I nearly starved before I got work." + +Confession, the details, the whole story, appealed to her evidently as +obvious, typical, useless. She tried to select simple words, to leave the +facts undimmed by passionate speech. + +"As I told you, an old friend of my father's helped me to get work. That +kept me from ending it just there. As the months went on and he did not try +to find me, I got used to the round, to the school, the living on, dead and +alive. I thought of getting a divorce, of finding some country school in +another state. Dr. Leonard urged me to. I might have--I don't know. But +accidentally _he_ was brought back. I was going home from a teachers' +meeting that night. I saw him lying on the pavement, thrown out of the +saloon, as he told you. A crowd gathered. He was unconscious. I wanted to +run away, to leave him, to escape. He groaned. I couldn't--I couldn't." + +She sighed wearily at the memory of her illogical act. The doctor nodded +sympathetically. It was a fatal moment, the point of decision in her life. +He understood what it meant to her. + +"There was no one else to take him--to be responsible. He had been mine. +After all, the divorce would have made no difference; it never can. You +have to take your failures; you have to endure." + +"Has he any relatives?" Sommers asked. + +"A few; they were done with him long ago. They had money, and they wanted +to get rid of him. They put him into a business that would keep him away +from them; that would give him the best chance to kill himself--going about +everywhere, always travelling, always with men who drink and live in hotels +as he has. They shoved him into the world to let the world, or any one who +would, take care of him." + +It had been her lot, because of the error of her incompetent heart, to take +charge of this flotsam. That was so evident that she had given up seeking +for escape. + +"He is helpless now," she added, as for excuse. "It would be cruel." + +For a moment the doctor's face looked hard. Was it, he seemed to be turning +over in his mind, that she loved him a little in the depths of her heart? +That was an irritating trait of feminine stupidity. But one intelligent +glance at her calm face rendered that supposition impossible. She was +merely largely human, with a sense of remote claims. + +"And now what will you do?" he asked. + +Her eyes were brooding on that now. Finally she exclaimed with an impatient +gesture: + +"How can I tell! He may get strong enough to leave me--in peace. He may +come back again to rest and get well. And that may go on and on until one +of us dies, or I am discharged. As I told you, they are trying now to +exclude married teachers from the schools. And I am married!" + +Sommers saw that she had faced the sordid situation; that she expected no +relief from the clouds. He got up and looked at his watch. + +"I shall come again. We will see what can be done." + +This was a convention of the profession. Nothing could be done for that +man, and he knew it. She knew it also. She smiled mournfully as they shook +hands. Yet as he moved toward the door she asked in a low tone: + +"Won't you tell me what you call it? There is no use in not telling me." + +"Paresis," Sommers replied shortly. As her face was still inquiring, he +added: "Brain trouble. In his case a kind of decay of the tissue; perhaps +inherited, certainly hastened by his habits, probably precipitated by the +operation." + +His glance met hers, and they both fell silent before the common thought. +In the practice of his profession he had done this for her, in obedience to +the cowardly rules of that profession. He had saved life--animation--to +this mass of corruption. Except for his skill, this waste being would have +gone its way quietly to death, thereby purifying all life by that little. +He added at last in a mechanical tone: + +"That results sometimes from such an operation. You can't tell how it will +affect the brain, especially when the history of the case is a bad one. He +will have to be sent away to an institution if--; but the only thing now +is to wait to see what will happen. Good night. I shall see you in a few +days," he concluded abruptly. + +He was determined to speculate no more, to give her no hopes that might +prove groundless. The future was uncertain: the patient might have +convulsions, paralysis, locomotor ataxia, mere imbecility with normal +physical functions, or intermittent insanity. It was highly unprofessional +to speculate in this loose fashion about the outcome of an operation. + +Mrs. Preston watched him as he crossed the lawn and untied his horse. She +had not thanked him for coming, for promising to come again, he reflected +with relief. She was no weak, dependent fool. He rode down the sodded lane, +and as his horse picked his way carefully toward the avenue where the +electric cars were shooting back and forth like magnified fireflies, he +turned in his saddle to look once more at the cottage. One light gleamed +from the room he had just left. He could see the outline of the woman's +form standing by the open window. The place was lonely and forbidding +enough, isolated and withdrawn as the life of the woman within it. She was +set apart with the thing that had been man stretched out above in stupor, +or restlessly babbling over his dirty tale. God knew why! Yet, physician +and unsentimental thinker that he was, he felt to a certain degree the +inevitableness of her fate. The common thing would be to shake the dirt +from one's shoes, to turn one's back on the diseased and mistaken being, +"to put it away where it would not trouble,"--but she did not seek to +escape. + +And he had been the instrument to execute for her this decree of fate, to +bind it permanently, a lifetime curse. + +The frogs were making merry in the marshy fields along the avenue. Their +robust chorus mingled with the whir of the cars. Soft, dark clouds were +driving lakeward. The blast furnaces of the steel works in South Chicago +silently opened and belched flame, and silently closed again. A rosy vapor, +as from some Tartarean breathing, hovered about the mouths of the furnaces. +Moment by moment these mouths opened and belched and closed. It was the +fiery respiration of a gigantic beast, of a long worm whose dark body +enveloped the smoky city. The beast heaved and panted and rested, again and +again--the beast that lay on its belly for many a mile, whose ample stomach +was the city, there northward, hid in smoke. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Long after the horse's hoofs had ceased to beat in the still evening, Mrs. +Preston sat by the open window in the bare cottage room, her head resting +on her arms, her eyes peering into the soft darkness in the path of the +shadowy figure that had passed down Stoney Island Avenue into the night +beyond her ken. She had not asked him to return. But he had promised to. +Indeed, he did not seem to be far away: she could feel his gentle eyes, his +imperious face, his sympathetic voice. It was not much that she could make +of him; but her imagination built gratefully on his few words and simple +acts, until he became--as when he had spoken to her at the hospital--a +masterful spirit, dominating that vague, warm land of dreams in which she +took refuge during waking hours. + +She should see him again--she must see him again, that was all. And yet +what was the good of it? Only a new pain in thus revealing her sores--a +pain mixed with a subtle anaesthetic, sweeter than anything she had known +in this life. In the end she would have to do without this anodyne; would +have to meet her hard and brutal world. Just now, while the yoke was hot to +the neck, she might take this mercy to temper the anguish. On the long hill +road before her it would be a grateful memory. It seemed now that she had +put herself to the yoke, had taken the hill road very lightly. She had not +thought of accepting the dentist's advice. With the fierce energy of her +crushed, spoiled youth, she had taken her measures: had found this little +cottage, hid in the oak copse; had prepared it with her own hands; had gone +to the hospital to fetch her husband. That never ending journey from the +hospital to the cottage! His ceaseless babble, the foul overflow from his +feeble mind, had sapped her courage. + +Her head dropped weakly upon her arms; useless tears started. Before that +day she had had some joy in this cottage. There were glorious sunrises from +the lake and sunsets over the desolate marshes. The rank swamp grasses were +growing long, covering decently the unkempt soil. At night, alone, she had +comfort in the multitudinous cries from the railroads that ribbed the +prairie in this outskirt of the city. The shrieks of the locomotives were +like the calls of great savage birds, raising their voices melodiously as +they fled to and fro into the roaring cavern of the city, outward to the +silent country, to the happier, freer regions of man. As they rushed, they +bore her with them to those shadowy lands far away in the sweet stillness +of summer-scented noons, in the solemn quiet of autumn nights. Her days +were beset with visions like these--visions of a cool, quiet, tranquil +world; of conditions of peace; of yearnings satisfied; of toil that did not +lacerate. Yes! that world was, somewhere. Her heart was convinced of it, as +her father's had been convinced of the reality of paradise. That which she +had never been, that which she could not be now--it must exist somewhere. +Singularly childish it seemed even to herself, this perpetual obsession by +the desire for happiness,--inarticulate, unformed desire. It haunted her, +night and morning, haunted her as the desire for food haunts the famished, +the desire for action the prisoned. It urged on her footsteps in the still +afternoons as she wandered over this vast waste of houseless blocks. Up and +down the endless checker-board of empty streets and avenues she had roamed, +gleaning what joys were to be had in the metallic atmosphere, the stunted +copses, the marshy pools spotted with the blue shields of fleur-de-lys. For +even here, in the refuse corner of the great city, Nature doled out +niggardly gifts of green growth--proofs of her unquenchable bounty. + +This hunger for joy had included no desire for companionship. When her +child died, the last person had slipped out of her world. To-night there +was a strange, almost fearful sense that this vacant, tenantless life might +change. Was there some one among these dull figures that would take life, +speak, touch _her_? + +There was a movement in the rooms above. She started. Had she locked the +door securely? Preston had tried before to drag himself out of the cottage, +across the intervening lot, to the saloon on Stoney Island Avenue, whose +immense black and gold sign he could see from his chamber. That must not +happen here, in the neighborhood of the Everglade School. She must keep him +well concealed until he should be strong enough to go far away, on the old +round of travel and debauch, from city to city, wearing out his brutishness +and returning to her only when spent. + +The movements above increased. He was pounding at the door. + +"Are you going to let me starve? Where are you?" the sick man called out +querulously. + +She sprang up; she had forgotten to get supper. When she took the food +upstairs, Preston was dragging himself about the room. He was excited, and +anxious to talk. + +"Did that doctor fix me up? I don't remember seeing him in the hospital." + +"He operated when you were received. He left the next day," she answered. + +"It must have been a neat job. I guess I was in a pretty tough state," he +mused more quietly. "How did he happen to look me up?" + +"I met him accidentally in the park," she explained briefly, anxious to +have done with the subject. "He offered to come back with me to see you. +Perhaps," she added more bitterly, "he wanted to see what he had done." + +"I suppose he knows?" + +She nodded. + +"Well, I can't see why he bothers around. I don't want his attentions." + +As she prepared to leave the room, after pulling down the shades and +opening the bed, he said apologetically: + +"It was pretty good of you to take me in after--I have treated you badly, +Alves. But it's no use in going back over that. I guess I was made so. +There are lots of men like that, or worse." + +"I suppose so," she assented coldly. + +"Why are you so stiff with me? You hardly look at me, and you touch me as +if I were a piece of dirt. Supposing I take a brace and we start over, +somewhere else? I am tired of knocking round. Come over and kiss me, won't +you?" + +Mrs. Preston paused in her work, the color mounting in her face. At first +she made no reply, but as she crossed to the door, she said in a cool, +distant tone: + +"I don't think I shall ever kiss you again or let you touch me, if I can +help it. Do you happen to remember where I saw you last--I mean before I +found you in the street--six months ago?" + +His face grew troubled, as if he were trying to recollect. + +"Oh! that woman? Well, that's past." + +"Yes, that woman. I took you here," she continued, her full voice gathering +passion, "because you are helpless and an outcast. And because I had taken +you before, ignorantly, I feel bound to defend you as you never defended +_me_. But I am not bound to do more, and you have sense enough--" + +"You were ready enough to bind yourself, if I remember." + +She answered meekly: + +"I can't think it was the same woman who did that--who was blind and cheap +enough to do that. Something has shown me that I am other than the foolish +creature you took so easily with a marriage ring, because you could not +have her in an easier way! But the old, silly country girl has gone and +left me this----Why did it have to be?" she exclaimed more incoherently. +"Why did you not let me read what you are? I had only a few wretched weeks +to learn you--and I was ignorant and foolish and young. You had me helpless +at Barrington! Was it such a clever thing to cheat a girl from a Wisconsin +village?" + +Preston answered apologetically,-- + +"Well, I married you." + +"Married me! You make a good deal of that! Perhaps it would have been +better if you had not married me. My child and I could have died together +then. But I was _married_, and so I struggled. The child died, died, +do you hear, because you had left me without money to get it what it +needed. I sat and saw it die. You were--" + +She closed her lips as if to repress further words. As she reached the +door, she said in her usual neutral tones: + +"So long as you are decent, keep from drinking, and don't get me into +trouble at the school, you may stay and take what I can give you." + +"'May stay!'" Preston roared, getting to his feet and making a step to +intercept her before she closed the door. His legs trembled, and he fell. +She knelt over him to see if he had injured himself, and then satisfied +that he was not hurt, she left the room, barring the door from the outside. +She was none too soon in taking this precaution, for as she swung the heavy +oak bar into its socket,--a convenient device of the old German, who had +the reputation of being a miser,--she could hear Preston dragging himself +toward the door, cursing as he stumbled over the furniture. She crept +wearily downstairs into the bare room. Some one was moving in the tiny +kitchen beyond. + +"Is that you, Anna?" Mrs. Preston called. + +"Ye-es," a slow voice responded. Presently a young woman came forward. She +was large and very fair, with the pale complexion and intense blue eyes of +the Swede. + +"I came in and found no one here, so I was cleaning up for you. I have +time. John has gone to a meeting--there are many meetings now and not much +work. You will eat something?" + +She went back to the kitchen and returned with warm food. + +"Yes, I am faint." Mrs. Preston's arms trembled. She laughed nervously as +she spilled her tea. + +"You are not well? You cannot live so--it's no use," the strong Swede +continued monotonously. "The men are bad enough when they are good; but +when they are bad, a woman can do nothing." + +"Tell me about the strike." + +Anna Svenson laughed contemptuously, as if such affairs were a part of +men's foolishness. + +"They're talking of going out, all the railroad men, if the roads use the +Pullmans. That's what John has gone to see about. Work is hard to find, so +they're going to make less of it." + +She stood easily, her arms by her side, watching Mrs. Preston eat, and +talking in an even, unexcited tone. + +"Father likes the job I told you about--over at the lumber yards. He came +in last Sunday. He says the folks out his way are near starving. Svenson +thinks of quitting his job." + +She laughed gently. + +"Life is like that," Mrs. Preston assented. "You can't manage it." + +"No, why should one?" Anna Svenson replied coolly. "Children come, they +die, they grow up, they fight, they starve, and they have children. It was +so over there; it is so here--only more pay and more drink some days; less +pay, less drink other days. I shall wash the dishes. Sit still." + +She came and went quickly, noiselessly. When everything had been done, she +opened a window and leaned out, looking into the darkness. The fact of her +presence seemed to bring peace to the room. + +"It is a good night," she said, drawing her head in. "There, Svenson has +lit the lamp. I must go." + +"Good night, Anna." Mrs. Preston took her hand. It was large and cool. + +"You shake hands?" Mrs. Svenson asked, with a smile. "When I was working +out, people like you never shook hands." + +"People like me! What have I that makes me different from you?" + +"Oh, nothing; not much," she replied tranquilly. + +With a sigh Mrs. Preston took up a bundle of grammar exercises and sorted +them. She was too weary for this task: she could not go on just yet. She +drew her chair over to the window and sat there long quarter hours, +watching the electric cars. They announced themselves from a great distance +by a low singing on the overhead wire; then with a rush and a rumble the +big, lighted things dashed across the void, and rumbled on with a clatter +of smashing iron as they took the switches recklessly. The noise soothed +her; in the quiet intervals she was listening for sounds from upstairs. The +night was still and languorous, one of the peaceful nights of large spaces +when the heavens brood over the earth like a mother over a fretful child. +At last no more cars came booming out of the distance. She shut the windows +and bolted the door; then she prepared slowly to undress. + +For the first time in months she looked at herself curiously, taking an +impersonal, calm survey of this body. She sought for signs of slovenly +decay,--thinning rusty hair, untidy nails, grimy hands, dried skin,--those +marks which she had seen in so many teachers who had abandoned themselves +without hope to the unmarried state and had grown careless of their bodies. +As she wound her hair into heavy ropes and braided them, it gave her a +sharp sense of joy, this body of hers, so firm and warm with blood, so +unmarked by her sordid struggle. It was well to be one's self, to own the +tenement of the soul; for a time it had not been hers--she reddened with +the shame of the thought! But she had gained possession once more, never, +never to lose it. + +She listened carefully for noises from above; then flung herself on the +couch, utterly wearied. In a moment she was asleep, having shed the years +of pain, and a frank smile crept over the calm face. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +After giving the invalid his breakfast, and arranging him on his couch +where he could see the cars pass, Mrs. Preston hurried over to the +Everglade School, which was only two blocks west of Stoney Island Avenue. +At noon she slipped out, while the other teachers gathered in one of the +larger rooms to chat and unroll their luncheons. These were wrapped in +little fancy napkins that were carefully shaken and folded to serve for the +next day. As the Everglade teachers had dismissed Mrs. Preston from the +first as queer, her absence from the noon gossip was rather welcome, though +resented. + +The recess hour gave Mrs. Preston enough time to carry upstairs a cold +meal, to take a hasty nibble of food, and to hurry back across the vacant +lots before the gong should ring for the afternoon session. At the close of +school she returned to the cottage more deliberately, to finish her house +work before taking her daily walk. Occasionally she found this work already +performed; Anna Svenson's robust form would greet her as she entered the +cottage, with the apologetic phrase, "My fingers were restless." Mrs. +Svenson had an unquenchable appetite for work. The two women would have a +silent cup of tea; then Mrs. Svenson would smile in her broad, apathetic +manner, saying, "One lives, you see, after all," and disappear through the +oak copse. Thus very quickly between the school and the cottage Mrs. +Preston's day arranged itself in a routine. + +Three days after the unexpected visit from the doctor, Mrs. Preston found +on her return from the school a woman's bicycle leaning against the gate. +Under the arbor sat the owner of the bicycle, fanning herself with a little +"perky" hat. She wore a short plaid skirt, high shoes elaborately laced, +and a flaming violet waist. Her eyes were travelling over the cottage and +all its premises. + +"Miss M'Gann!" Mrs. Preston exclaimed. + +"My!" the young woman responded, "but they did send you to kingdom come. +You're the next thing, Alves, to Indiana. I do hope you can get out of this +soon." + +Mrs. Preston sat down beside her in the little arbor, and made polite +inquiries about the school where they had taught together, about Jane +M'Gann's "beaux," the "cat," and the "house" where she boarded. + +"It was good of you to come all this way to see me," she concluded. + +"I wanted a ride. We had a half day off--infectious disease in Rosa +Macraw's room. Besides, I told the girls I'd hunt you out. How _are_ +you? You look rather down. Say, you mustn't shut yourself off here where +folks can't get at you. Why don't you live up town, at the house?" + +"I can't," Mrs. Preston answered briefly. + +"Do you know the news? The 'cat' has gone up higher. They made him +supervisor, 'count of his sly walk, I guess. And we've got a new principal. +He's fine. You can just do what you want with him, if you handle him right. +Oh, do you know Rosemarry King, the girl that used to dress so queer, has +been discharged? She lived in bachelor-girl apartments with a lot of +artists, and they say they were pretty lively. And Miss Cohen is going to +be married, ain't coming back any more after this year. Some of us thought +we could work it so as the new principal--Hoff's his name--would ask to +have you transferred back to one of those places. There's just a chance. +Now I've told all my news and everything!" + +At that moment a man's figure appeared at an upper window. He was in a +dressing-gown, and unshaven. Miss M'Gann's keen vision spied him at once. + +"You'll get queer, if you stay here!" she said falteringly. +"I guess I am queer already," Mrs. Preston answered with a smile. "Let us +go inside and have some tea." + +Miss M'Gann looked the room over critically. + +"You must come down to the house some night soon and meet the principal. He +rides a wheel, and we girls see considerable of him. If you are nice to +him, he'll do anything--he is one of the soft kind, sweet on all women, and +likes a little adoration." + +"No, I don't believe I can." Mrs. Preston listened. There was noise in the +chamber above. "Besides, I like it out here. I like the quiet," she added. + +Miss M'Gann looked at her incredulously, as if she were waiting to hear +more. As nothing came, she went on: + +"We are having high times over the new readers. The 'cat' has done a set of +readers for the fourth and fifth. McNamara and Hills are bringing 'em out. +The Express Book Co. has a lot of money in the old ones, and they are +fighting hard to keep the cat's out of the schools. They're sending men +around to get reports from the teachers. There's a man, one of their +agents, who comes over to the house pretty often. He's a college man, was a +professor at Exonia." + +"Excuse me," Mrs. Preston interrupted. The continued noise in the room +overhead had made her more and more nervous. She had not heard Miss +M'Gann's story, which would probably be the preface of a tender personal +episode. "I will be back in a moment," she said, closing the sitting-room +door carefully. + +Miss M'Gann sat forward, listening intently. She could hear the stairs +creak under Mrs. Preston's quick steps; then there was silence; then an +angry voice, a man's voice. Excited by this mystery, she rose noiselessly +and set the hall door ajar. She could hear Alves Preston's voice: + +"You must not come down. You aren't fit." + +"Thank you for your advice," a man's voice replied. "Who's your visitor? +Some man? I am going to see. Don't make a scene." + +There was the sound of a scuffle; then the cry of a woman, as she fell back +exhausted from her physical struggle. + +"P'r'aps he's murdering her!" + +Miss M'Gann opened the door at the foot of the stairs wide enough to detect +a half-clothed man trying to pry open with one arm a heavy door above. She +hesitated for a moment, but when the man had shoved the door back a little +farther, enough for her to see Mrs. Preston struggling with all her force, +she called out: + +"Can I help you, Mrs. Preston?" + +"No, no, go back! Go out of the house!" + +"Well, I never!" Miss M'Gann ejaculated, and retreated to the sitting room, +leaving the door ajar, however. + +The struggle ended shortly, and soon the man appeared, plunging, tumbling +over the stairs. Wrenching open the front door he stumbled down the steps +to the road. He was hatless, collarless, and his feet were shod in +slippers. As he reached the gate he looked at himself as if accustomed to +take pride in his personal appearance, drew a handkerchief from his pocket +and wound it negligently about his neck. Then, gazing about to get his +bearings, he aimed for the road. Just as he crossed the car tracks, heading +for the saloon with the big sign, Mrs. Preston entered the room. Her face +was pale and drawn. Miss M'Gann was too embarrassed to speak, and she +pretended to look into the kitchen. + +"You will see now why I don't want a transfer," Mrs. Preston began, to +break the awkward silence. "I must look after my husband." + +"My!" Miss M'Gann exclaimed, and then restrained herself. She nodded her +head slowly, and crossed to where Mrs. Preston had seated herself. + +"But it's terrible to think of you here alone," she remarked gently. She +had intended to put her arm about Mrs. Preston's waist, but something +deterred her. "I wish I could come out and stay right on. I'm going to +spend the night, anyway. Father was that kind," she added in a lower voice. + +Mrs. Preston winced under her sympathy and shook her head. "No, no! I am +better alone. You mustn't stay." + +"You'd ought to have _some_ woman here," the girl insisted, with the +feminine instinct for the natural league of women. "At least, some one to +look after the house and keep you company." + +"I have thought of trying to find a servant," Mrs. Preston admitted. "But +what servant--" she left the sentence unfinished, "even if I could pay the +wages," she continued. "Anna comes in sometimes--she's a young Swede who +has a sister in the school. But I've got to get on alone somehow." + +"Well, if that's what getting married is, it's no wonder more of us girls +don't get married, as I told Mr. Dresser." + +There was a knock at the outside door. Miss M'Gann quickly barricaded +herself behind the long table, while Mrs. Preston opened the door and +admitted the visitor. Miss M'Gann came forward with evident relief, and +Mrs. Preston introduced her visitors, "Dr. Sommers, Miss M'Gann." + +Miss M'Gann greeted the doctor warmly. + +"Why, this must be Mr. Dresser's Dr. Sommers." The young doctor bowed and +look annoyed. Miss M'Gann, finding that she could get little from either of +the two silent people, took her leave. + +"I'll not forget you, dear," she said, squeezing Mrs. Preston's hand. + +When she had ridden away, Mrs. Preston returned to the little sitting room +and dropped wearily into a chair. + +"_He_ has just gone, escaped!" she exclaimed. "Just before you came." + +The doctor whistled. "Do you know where he's gone to?" + +She pointed silently to the low wooden building across the neighboring +avenue. + +"If he makes a row, it will all get out. I shall lose my place." + +The doctor nodded. + +"Has it happened before?" + +"He's tried of late. But I have kept him in and barred the door. This time +he forced it open. I was not strong enough to hold it." + +The doctor hesitated a moment, and then, as if making a sudden resolve, he +took his hat. + +"I'll try to bring him back." + +From the open window she could see him walk leisurely down the lane to the +street, and pick his way carefully over the broken planks of the sidewalk +to the avenue. Then he disappeared behind the short shutters that crossed +the door of the saloon. + +For some reason this seemed the one thing unbearable in her experience. The +bitterness of it all welled up and overflowed in a few hot tears that stung +her hands as they dropped slowly from the burning eyes. It was a long time +before the little blinds swung out, and the doctor appeared with her +husband. Preston was talking affably, fluently, and now and then he tapped +the doctor familiarly on his shoulders to emphasize a remark. Sommers +responded enough to keep his companion's interest. Once he gently +restrained him, as the hatless man plunged carelessly forward in front of +an approaching car. As the pair neared the house, the woman at the window +could hear the rapid flow of talk. Preston was excited, self-assertive, and +elaborately courteous. + +"After you, doctor. Will you come upstairs to my room?" she caught as they +entered the gate. "My wife, doctor, is all right, good woman; but, like the +rest of them, foolish." + +And the babbling continued until some one closed the heavy door at the head +of the stairs. Then there was noise, as of a man getting into bed. In time +it was quiet, and just as she was about to make the effort of finding out +what had happened, Sommers came downstairs and signed to her to sit down. + +"I have given him a hypodermic injection. He won't trouble you any more +to-night," he said, staring dreamily out into the twilight. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +"This is too much for you," Sommers observed finally. + +After his meditation he had come to much the same obvious conclusion that +Miss M'Gann had formed previously. The woman moved wearily in her chair. + +"It can't go on," the doctor proceeded. "No one can tell what he might do +in his accesses--what violence he would do to you, to himself." + +"He may get better," she suggested. + +Sommers shook his head slowly. + +"I am afraid not; the only thing to be hoped for is that he will get worse, +much worse, as rapidly as possible." + +Mrs. Preston stood his questioning eyes as he delivered this unprofessional +opinion. + +"Meantime you must protect yourself. The least harm his outbreaks will do +will be to make a scandal, to make it necessary for you to leave your +school." + +"What can I do?" she asked, almost irritably. + +"There are institutions." + +"I have no money." + +"And I suppose they would not do, now, while he is apparently getting +better. They would not help him, even if we should get him confined. His is +one of those cases where the common law prescribes liberty." + +There was nothing further to say in this direction. Sommers seemed to be +thinking. At last, with an impulsive motion, he exclaimed: + +"It should not have been! No, it should not have been." + +He paused. Her eyes had lowered from his face. She knew his unexpressed +thought. + +"And more than that, if you and I and the world thought straight, he +_would not be here now_." + +"No, I suppose not," she acquiesced quietly, following his thought word by +word. "Well, as it is, I guess it's for life--for _my_ life, at +least." + +"If one could only love enough--" he mused. + +"Love!" she exclaimed passionately, at this blasphemous intrusion. "Does +one love such as that,--the man who betrayed your youth?" + +"Not you and I. But one who could love enough--" + +Her disdainful smile stopped him. + +"I followed him to the hospital. I took him here, I don't know why. I guess +it's my fate. He was once mine, and I can't escape that--but as to love--do +you think I am as low as that?" + +"You have no duties except the duties love makes," the doctor suggested. +"He is no longer even the man you married. He is not a man in any sense of +the word. He is merely a failure, a mistake; and if society is afraid to +rid itself of him, society must provide for him." + +"Yes, yes," she murmured, as if all this were familiar ground to her mind. +"But I am the nearest member of society--the one whose business it is to +attend to this mistake. It's my contribution," she ended with a feeble +smile. + +"Society has no right to expect too much from any one. The whole sacrifice +mustn't fall where it crushes. I say that such a case should be treated by +the public authorities, and should be treated once for all." + +She rose and looked into his eyes, as if to say, 'You _were_ society, +and you did not dare.' In a moment she turned away, and said, "Don't you +believe in a soul?" + +"Yes," he smiled back. "And that poor soul and others like it, many, many +thousands, who cannot grow, should be at rest--one long rest; to let other +souls grow, unblasted by their foul touch." + +"I have thought so," she replied calmly, taking his belief as an equal. "To +let joy into the world somewhere before death." Her wistful tone rang out +into the room. "But that would be murder," she continued. "We should have +to call it murder, shouldn't we? And that is a fearful word. I could never +quite forget it. I should always ask myself if I were right, if I had the +right to judge. I am a coward. The work is too much for me." + +"We will not think of it," Sommers replied abruptly, unconsciously putting +himself in company with her, as she had herself with him. "We have but to +follow the conventions of medicine and wait." + +"Yes, wait!" + +"Medicine, medicine," he continued irritably. "All our medicine is but a +contrivance to keep up the farce, to continue the ills of humanity, to keep +the wretched and diseased where they have no right to be!" + +"And you are a doctor! How can you be?" + +"Because," he answered in the same tone of unprofessional honesty that he +had used toward her, "like most men, I am a coward and conventional. I have +learned to do as the others do. Medicine and education!" Sommers laughed +ironically. "They are the two sciences where men turn and turn and emit +noise and do nothing. The doctor and the teacher learn a few tricks and +keep on repeating them as the priest does the ceremony of the mass." + +"That's about right for the teacher," she laughed. "We cut our cloth almost +all alike." + +Unconsciously they drifted farther and farther into intimacy. Sommers +talked as he thought, with question and protest, intolerant of conventions, +of formulas. They forgot the diseased burden that lay in the chamber above, +with its incessant claims, its daily problems. They forgot themselves, thus +strangely brought together and revealed to each other, at one glance as it +were, without the tiresome preliminary acquaintanceship of civilization. It +had grown dark in the room before Sommers came back to the reality of an +evening engagement. + +"You can get a train on the railroad west of the avenue," Mrs. Preston +suggested. "But won't you let me give you something to eat?" + +"Not this time," Sommers answered, taking his hat "Perhaps when I come +again--in a few days. I want to think--what can be done." + +She did not urge him to stay. She was surprised at her boldness in +suggesting it. He had assumed the impersonal, professional manner once +more. That precious hour of free talk had been but an episode, a +relaxation. He gave directions as he went to the door. + +"The patient will sleep till to-morrow. It will take two or three days to +get over this relapse." + +Then he took a pad from his pocket and scribbled a prescription. + +"Should he grow unmanageable, you had better give him one of these +powders--two, if necessary. But no more; they are pretty strong." + +He placed the leaf of pencilled paper on the table. The next minute his +rapid footsteps crunched on the gravel path. Even after he was gone and she +was left quite alone in her old condition, the dead, nerveless sense of +despair did not return. An unreasonable lightness of spirit buoyed her--a +feeling that after a desolate winter a new season was coming, that her +little world was growing larger, lighting indefinably with rare beauty. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The engagement was not one to be missed, at least by a young professional +man who had his way to make, his patients to assemble, in the fierce +struggle of Chicago. The occasion was innocent enough and stupid +enough,--a lecture at the Carsons' by one of the innumerable lecturers +to the polite world that infest large cities. The Pre-Aztec Remains in +Mexico, Sommers surmised, were but a subterfuge; this lecture was merely +one of the signs that the Carsons had arrived at a certain stage in their +pilgrimage. + +They had come from Omaha five years before; they were on their way to New +York, where they would be due five years hence. From railroad law, Carson +had grown to the business of organizing monopolies. Some of his handiworks +in this order of art had been among the first to take the field. He was +resting now, while the country was suffering from its prolonged fit of the +blues, and his wife was organizing their social life. They had picked up a +large house on the North Boulevard, a bargain ready for their needs; it had +been built for the Bidwells, just before the panic. + +A rapid glance over the rooms proved to Sommers that Mrs. Carson was as +clever a manipulator of capitalists as her husband. There were a few of the +more important people of the city, such as Alexander Hitchcock, Ferdinand +Dunster, the Polot families, the Blaisdells, the Anthons. There were also a +few of the more distinctly "smart" people, and a number who might be +counted as social possibilities. Sommers had seen something in a +superficial way of many of these people. Thanks to the Hitchcocks' +introduction, and also to the receptive attitude of a society that was +still very largely fluid, he had gone hither and thither pretty widely +during this past year. There were quieter, less pretentious circles than +this in which the Carsons aspired to move, but he had not yet found them. +Anything that had a retiring disposition disappeared from sight in Chicago. +Society was still a collection of heterogeneous names that appeared daily +in print. As such it offered unrivalled opportunities for aspiration. + +Sommers had not come to the Carsons in the fulfilment of an aspiration. +Mrs. R. Gordon Carson bored him. Her fussy conscious manners bespoke too +plainly the insignificant suburban society in which she had played a minor +part. He came because Dr. Lindsay had told him casually that Louise +Hitchcock was in town again. He arrived late, when the lecture was nearly +over, and lingered in the hall on the fringe of the gathering. + +Carson had some reputation for his pictures. There was one, a Sargent, a +portrait of the protagonist in this little drama of success, that hung in a +recess of the hall at the foot of the stairs. R. Gordon Carson, as the +great psychologist had seen him, was a striking person, an embodiment of +modern waywardness, an outcropping of the trivial and vulgar. In a sacque +coat, with the negligent lounging air of the hotel foyer, he stared at you, +this Mr. R. Gordon Carson, impudently almost, very much at his ease. Narrow +head, high forehead, thin hair, large eyes, a great protruding nose, a thin +chin, smooth-shaven, yet with a bristly complexion,--there he was, the man +from an Iowa farm, the man from the Sioux Falls court-house, the man from +Omaha, the man now fully ripe from Chicago. Here was no class, no race, +nothing in order; a feature picked up here, another there, a third +developed, a fourth dormant--the whole memorable but unforgivably ordinary. + +Not far away, standing in the doorway of the next room, was Carson himself. +The great painter had undressed him and revealed him. What a comment to +hang in one's own home! The abiding impression of the portrait was +self-assurance; hasty criticism would have called it conceit. All the +deeper qualities of humanity were rubbed out for the sake of this one great +expression of egotism. + +When the lecture was finished, a little group formed about the host; he was +telling his experience with the great master, a series of anecdotes that +had made his way in circles where success was not enough. + +"I knew he was a hard customer," Sommers overheard him saying, "and I gave +him all the rope he wanted. 'It may be two years before I do anything on +your portrait, Mr. Carson,' he said. + +"'Take five,' I told him. + +"'I shall charge five thousand.' + +"'Make it ten,' said I. + +"'I shall paint your ears.' + +"'And the nose too.' + +"Well, he sent it to me inside of a year with his compliments. The fancy +struck him, he wrote. It was easy to do; I was a good type and all that. +Well, there it is." + +He turned on an additional bunch of electric lights before the picture. + +"Good, isn't it?" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed behind Sommers. + +"Too good," he muttered. "I shouldn't have dared to hang it." + +The girl's smooth brow contracted. + +"Don't you think it was fine, though, his making up his mind out there in +Sioux Falls that what he wanted was pictures, and the best pictures, and +that he'd have Sargent do his portrait?" + +"No more than it's fine for all the rest of these well-dressed men and +women to make up their minds that they want to be rich and luxurious and +important and all that." + +Her face became still more puzzled. + +"But it is fine! And the successful people are the interesting people." + +"That has nothing to do with the matter," he returned dogmatically. + +"Don't you think so?" she replied distantly, with a note of reproof in her +voice. He was too young, too unimportant to cast such aspersion upon this +comfortable, good-natured world where there was so much fun to be had. She +could not see the possessing image in his mind, the picture of the +afternoon--the unsuccessful woman. + +"There is nothing honorable in wealth," he added, as she turned to examine +a delicate landscape. Her eyes flashed defiantly. + +"It means--" + +"All this," he moved his hand contemptuously. "Ah, yes, and a lot more," he +added, as her lip trembled. "It shows power and ability and thrift and +purpose and provides means for generosity and philanthropy. But it rots." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Because it turns the people who have it into a class that come to feel +themselves divinely appointed. Whereas it is all a gamble, a lucky gamble!" + +"Not all wealth is a lucky gamble!" she retorted hotly. + +Sommers paused, discomfited at the personal turn to the thought. + +"I think the most successful would be the first to admit it," he answered +thoughtfully. + +"I don't understand you," the girl replied more calmly. "I suppose you are +a socialist, or something of that sort. I can't understand such matters +well enough to argue with you. And I hoped to find you in another mood when +I came back; but we fall out always, it seems, over the most trivial +matters." + +"I am afraid I am very blunt," he said contritely. "I came here to find +_you_; what do you want me to talk about,--Stewart's engagement to +Miss Polot? It was given the chief place in the newspaper this morning." + +"Sh, sh!" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed cautiously. Little groups were moving in +and out of the rooms, and at that moment a pale-faced, slight young man +came up to Miss Hitchcock. + +"May I offer my congratulations?" she said, turning to him with the smile +that Sommers's remark had caused still on her lips. The young man simpered, +uttered the requisite platitude, and moved away. + +"Did you congratulate him on the Polot connection or on the girl?" the +young doctor asked. + +"You don't know Estelle Polot! She is _impossible_. But Burton Stewart +has got _just_ what he wanted. No one thought that he would do as well +as that. You know they are _fearfully_ rich--she can't escape having a +number of millions. Don't you think a man of forty is to be congratulated +on having what he has been looking for for twenty years?" + +Miss Hitchcock's neat, nonchalant enunciation gave the picture additional +relief. + +"I don't see how he has the face to show himself. All these people are +laughing about it." + +"It _is_ a bad case, but don't you believe that they are not envying +him and praising him. He is a clever man, and he won't let the Polot money +go to waste. He has taken the largest purse--the rest were too light." + +Miss Hitchcock seemed to find infinite resources of mirth in the affair. +Other people drifted by them. Several of the younger women stopped and +exchanged amused glances with Miss Hitchcock. + +"He's been attentive to all these," Miss Hitchcock explained to Sommers. + +"The Polot money is very bad, isn't it?" + +Miss Hitchcock shrugged her shoulders. + +"It is current coin." + +"The system is worse than the _dot_ and _mariage de convenance_. +There is no pretension of sentiment in that, at least. See him hanging over +the girl--faugh!" + +"You _are_ crude," Miss Hitchcock admitted, candidly. "Let us move out +of this crowd. Some one will overhear you." + +They sauntered into the dimly lighted hall, where there were fewer people, +and he continued truculently: + +"I remember that side by side with the report of Miss Polot's engagement +was a short account of the starvation at Pullman, and another column was +headed, 'Nothing to arbitrate: Pullman says he has nothing to arbitrate.' +Did you see that the reporters carefully estimated just how much Miss +Polot's share of the plunder would be?" + +"What you need is golf. I have been teaching papa at the Springs. It is a +great resource, and it increases your sense of humor." + +"It doesn't seem to have rested you," Sommers answered. "You are tired or +worried." + +"Worse yet!" she laughed nervously. "Clearly, you won't do. You must go +back to Marion." + +She looked up at him from her low seat with brilliant, mocking eyes. +"I have thought of that. It would not be the worst thing that could happen. +Would _you_ think it possible--Marion?" he asked clumsily. + +Her eyes did not fall, but rested steadily on his face. Under this clear +gaze his remark appeared to him preposterous. She seemed to show him how +precipitate, unformed,--crude, as she said,--all his acts were. Instead of +answering his question, she said gently: + +"Yes, you are right. I _am_ worried, and I came here tonight to escape +it. But one doesn't escape worries with you. One increases them. You make +me feel guilty, uncomfortable. Now get me something thoroughly cold, and +perhaps we can have that long-promised talk." + +When Sommers returned with a glass of champagne, a number of men had +gathered about Miss Hitchcock, and she left him on the outside, +intentionally it seemed, while she chatted with them, bandying allusions +that meant nothing to him. Sommers saw that he had been a bore. He slipped +out of the group and wandered into the large library, where the guests were +eating and drinking. A heavy, serious man, whom he had seen at various +places, spoke to him. He said something about the lecture, then something +about Miss Polot's engagement. "They'll go to New York," he ventured. +"Stewart has some position there, some family." He talked about the +Stewarts and the Polots, and finally he went to the dressing room to smoke. + +Sommers had made up his mind to leave, and was looking for Mrs. Carson, +when he came across Miss Hitchcock again. + +"The man you were talking with is quite a tragedy," she said unconcernedly, +picking up the conversation where she had dropped it. "I knew him when he +left college. He was an athletic fellow, a handsome man. His people were +nice, but not rich. He was planning to go to Montana to take a place in +some mines, but he got engaged to the daughter of a very wealthy man. He +didn't go. He married Miss Prudence Fisher, and he has simply grown fat. +It's an old story--" + +"And a tragic enough one. We ought to change the old proverb, 'It is easier +for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for a poor man to +marry a rich man's daughter.'" + +"It ought not to be so, if the man were a man." + +She dwelt upon the last word until the young doctor's face flushed. Then +with the sudden transition of mood, which so often perplexed Sommers, she +said gently, confidently: + +"You are quite right. My journey did me no good. There were worries, and we +can't go away this summer. The business situation will keep papa here, and +he is so lonely without me that I hadn't the heart to suggest leaving him. +So we have taken a house at Lake Forest. I shall teach you golf at the new +Country Club, if you will deign to waste your time on us. You will see more +of these good people." + +"You must think me--" Sommers began penitently. + +"Yes, _they_ would say 'raw' and 'green.' I don't know. I must go +now." + +A few minutes later, Sommers met Colonel Hitchcock in the dressing room. As +he was leaving, the old merchant detained him. + +"Are you going north? Perhaps you will wait for me and let me take you to +the city. Louise is going on to a dance." + +Sommers waited outside the room. From the bedroom at the end of the hall +came a soft murmur of women's voices. He hoped that Miss Hitchcock would +appear before her father took him off. He should like to see her again--to +hear her voice. Every moment some one nodded to him, distracting his +attention, but his eyes reverted immediately to the end of the hall. Men +and women were passing out, down the broad staircase that ended in front of +the intelligent portrait. The women in rich opera cloaks, the men in black +capes carrying their crush hats under their arms, were all alike; they were +more like every other collection of the successful in the broad earth than +one might have expected. + +Sommers caught bits of the conversation. + +"Jim has taken the Paysons' place." + +"Is that so? We are going to York." + +"--Shall join them in Paris--dinner last Friday--did you see _The Second +Mrs. Tanqueray_--our horses are always ill--" + +It sounded like the rustle of skirts, the stretching of kid. There was +dulness in the atmosphere. Yet if it was dull, Sommers realized that it was +his own fault--a conclusion he usually took away with him from the feasts +of the rich which he attended. He lacked the power to make the most of his +opportunities. The ability to cultivate acquaintances, to push his way into +a good place in this sleek company of the well-to-do,--an ability +characteristically American,--he was utterly without. It would be better +for him, he reflected with depression, to return to Marion, Ohio, or some +similar side-track of the world, or to reenter the hospital and bury +himself in a quite subordinate position. + +There was still an eddy of guests about the host and his wife near the +great portrait. They were laughing loudly. Carson's thin face was beaming. +Even Mrs. Carson's face had lost some of its tension. Sommers could watch +her manner from his position in the upper hall. She was dismissing a minor +guest with a metallic smile. 'To aspire to this!' he murmured +unconsciously. 'This, the triumph of success!' + +"Still waiting?" + +Miss Hitchcock was passing, her long wrap trailing lightly behind. Her eyes +glowed underneath a white mantilla. + +"I am ready to go now," Sommers replied. "You are too tired for the dance." + +"I must go--I can't bear to miss anything. It is stupid--but it is exciting +at the same time. Good-by. Remember, Lake Forest in a fortnight. And learn +to take it easily!" + +She smiled and disappeared in the wake of Mrs. Porter. How easily she +seemed to take it! The man she married would have to be of the world, as +large a world as she could contrive to get. She would always be "going on." +Imaginatively, with the ignorance of a young man, he attributed to her +appetites for luxury, for power, for success. _He_ was merely an +instance of her tolerance. Really he was a very little thing in her cosmos, +and if he wished to be more, he would have to take an interest in just +this. + +Colonel Hitchcock came out at last, in close conversation with old +Blaisdell. They were talking business. Hitchcock's kindly face was furrowed +and aged, Sommers noticed. The old merchant put his arm through the young +doctor's, and with this support Sommers received the intimate farewell from +Mrs. Carson. + +Colonel Hitchcock ordered the driver to take them to the Metropolitan Club. + +"Our talk may take us some time," he explained. "I have been trying to find +you for several days. I have something to ask you to do for me. You may +think it strange that I should go to you instead of to one of my old +friends. But it is something Isaac would have done for me. It is for my +boy." + +The weariness of years was in his voice. As briefly and as simply as he +could, he stated the matter. Parker had disappeared; he had gone to New +York and there drawn heavily on his father. The journey which Colonel +Hitchcock had made with his daughter had been largely for the purpose of +finding Parker, and had failed. The boy was ashamed to come back. Now there +was a clew, but it seemed unwise for the father to follow it up himself. + +"I don't understand the boy," Colonel Hitchcock concluded. "I'm afraid +everything I do is wrong. I get angry. I have no patience with his polo, +his spending so much money uselessly--he spends ten times as much money as +any man among my friends did at his age." + +"You have ten times as much as any one of their fathers had," Sommers +protested with a smile. + +"Well, then, I guess I had better stop, if that's what it means. He may +find there isn't so much after all. This panic is pushing me. _I_ +can't leave Chicago another day. He should be here fighting with me, +helping me--and he is sneaking in some hotel, with his tail between his +legs." + +He breathed heavily at the bitterness of the thought. Everything in his +life had been honorable, open to all: he had fought fair and hard and +long--for this. + +"If it weren't for Louise and his mother, I would let him starve until he +was ready to come home. But his mother is ill--she can't be troubled." + +"And you can't let him disgrace himself publicly--do something that would +make it hard for him to come back at all," Sommers suggested. + +"No, I suppose not," the older man admitted, with a grateful glance. "I +can't refuse to help him, poor boy; perhaps I have made him weak." + +Sommers offered to do what he could,--to hunt Parker up, get him on his +feet, and bring him back to Chicago. He would leave that night. They had +stopped at the club to finish their talk, and while Colonel Hitchcock was +writing some letters, Sommers drove to his rooms for his bag. It was nearly +midnight before he returned. As they drove over to the station, Colonel +Hitchcock said: + +"I have told him the whole thing: how hard pressed I am; how his mother is +worrying and ill--well, I don't feel it will make much difference. He could +_see_ all that." + +"You must remember that he has always had every inducement to enjoy +himself," the young doctor ventured. "He doesn't understand _your_ +life. You sent him to a very nice private school, and whenever he failed +got him tutors. You made him feel that he was a special case in the world. +And he has always been thrown with boys and young men who felt _they_ +were special cases. At college he lived with the same set--" + +"His mother and I wanted him to start with every advantage, to have a +gentleman's education. At home he's seen nothing of extravagance and +self-indulgence." + +Sommers nodded sympathetically. It was useless to discuss the matter. The +upright, courageous old merchant, whose pride was that he had never +committed one mean action in the accumulation of his fortune, could never +understand this common misfortune. He belonged to a different world from +that in which his son was to take his part. They turned to other +topics,--the business depression, the strike, the threatened interference +of the American Railway Union. + +"Blaisdell, who is the general manager of the C. K. and G.," Colonel +Hitchcock remarked, "was saying tonight that he expected the Pullman people +would induce the A. R. U. to strike. If they stir up the unions all over +the country, business will get worse and worse. All we needed to make +things as bad as can be was a great railroad strike." + +"I suppose so," Sommers responded. "Why won't the Pullman people consent to +arbitrate?" + +The old merchant shook his head. + +"They'd divide their twenty millions of surplus and go out of business +first. They say they're saving money on the strike. Did you ever know of +people with the whip-hand who had anything to arbitrate?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Dr. Lindsay's offices were ingeniously arranged on three sides of the +Athenian Building. The patient entering from the hall, just beside the +elevators, passed by a long, narrow corridor to the waiting room, and +thence to one of the tiny offices of the attending physicians; or, if he +were fortunate enough, he was led at once to the private office of the +great Lindsay, at the end of the inner corridor. By a transverse passage he +was then shunted off to a door that opened into the public hall just +opposite the elevator well. The incoming patient was received by a woman +clerk, who took his name, and was dismissed by another woman clerk, who +collected fees and made appointments. If he came by special appointment, +several stages in his progress were omitted, and he passed at once to one +of the smaller offices, where he waited until the machine was ready to +proceed with his case. Thus in the office there was a perpetual stream of +the sick and suffering, in, around, out, crossed by the coming and going +through transverse passages of the "staff," the attendants, the clerks, +messengers, etc. Each atom in the stream was welling over with egotistic +woes, far too many for the brief moment in which he would be closeted with +the great one, who held the invisible keys of relief, who penetrated this +mystery of human maladjustment. It was a busy, toiling, active, subdued +place, where the tinkle of the telephone bell, the hum of electric +annunciators, as one member of the staff signalled to another, vibrated in +the tense atmosphere. Into this hive poured the suffering, mounting from +the street, load after load, in the swiftly flying cages; their visit made, +their joss-sticks burned, they dropped down once more to the chill world +below, where they must carry on the burden of living. + +The attending physicians arrived at nine. The "shop," as they called it, +opened at ten; Lindsay was due at eleven and departed at three. Thereafter +the hive gradually emptied, and by four the stenographers and clerks were +left alone to attend to purely business matters. Sommers came late the day +after his return from New York. The general door being opened to admit a +patient, he walked in and handed his coat and hat to the boy in buttons at +the door. The patient who had entered with him was being questioned by the +neat young woman whose business it was to stand guard at the outer door. + +"What is your name, please?" + +Her tones were finely adjusted to the caste of the patient. Judging from +the icy sharpness on this occasion, the patient was not high in the scale. + +"Caroline Ducharme," the woman replied. + +"Write it out, please." + +The patient did so with some difficulty, scrawling half over the neat pad +the clerk pushed toward her. + +"You wish to consult Dr. Lindsay?" + +"The big doctor,--yes, mum." + +"Did he make an appointment with you?" + +"What's that?" + +"Have you been here before?" + +"No, mum." + +"You will have to pay the fee in advance." + +"What's that, please?" + +"Ten dollars." + +"Ten?" + +The clerk tapped irritably on her desk with her pencil. + +"Yes, _ten_ dollars for the first visit; five after that; operations +from fifty to five hundred." + +The woman clutched tightly a small reticule. "I hain't the money!" she +exclaimed at last. "I thought it would be two dollars." + +"You'll have to go to the hospital, then." + +The clerk turned to a pile of letters. + +"Don't he see nobody here without he pays ten?" the woman asked. + +"No." + +"Where is the hospital?" + +"St. Isidore's--the clinic is every other Saturday at nine." + +"But my head hurts awful bad. The doctor up our way don't know anything +about it." + +The clerk no longer answered; she had turned half around in her +swivel-chair. Sommers leaned over her desk, and said,-- + +"Show her into my room, No. 3, Miss Clark." + +"Dr. Lindsay is _very_ particular," the clerk protested. + +"I will be responsible," Sommers answered sharply, in the tone he had +learned to use with hospital clerks when they opposed his will. He turned +to get his mail. The clerk shrugged her shoulders with a motion that said, +'Take her there yourself.' Sommers beckoned to the woman to follow him. He +took her to one of the little compartments on the inner corridor, which was +lined with strange devices: electrical machines, compressed air valves, +steam sprays--all the enginery of the latest invention. + +"Now what is it?" he asked gruffly. He was vexed that the matter should +occur at this time, when he was on rather cool terms with Lindsay. The case +proved to be an interesting one, however. There were nervous complications; +it could not be diagnosed at a glance. After spending half an hour in +making a careful examination, he gave the woman a preliminary treatment, +and dismissed her with directions to call the next day. + +"You will lose your eyesight, if you don't take care," he said. "We'll see +to-morrow." + +"No," the woman shook her head. "I've had enough of her lip. You'se all +right; but I guess I'll have to go blind. I can't stand your prices. Here's +two dollars, all I got." + +She held out a dirty bill. + +"In the world?" Sommers added smilingly. It was a familiar formula. + +"Just about," she admitted defiantly. "And if my eyes go back on me, I +guess 'twill be St. Isidore, or St. Somebody. You see I need my eyes pretty +bad just now for one thing." + +"What's that?" the doctor asked good-naturedly, waving the money aside. + +"To look for _him_. He's in Chicago somewheres, I know." + +"Ducharme?" the doctor inquired carelessly. + +The woman nodded, her not uncomely broad face assuming a strange expression +of determined fierceness. At that moment an assistant rapped at the door +with a summons from Dr. Lindsay. + +"Turn up this evening, then, at the address on this card," Sommers said to +Mrs. Ducharme, handing her his card. + +He would have preferred hearing that story about Ducharme to charging old +P. F. Wort with electricity. He went through the treatment with his +accustomed deftness, however. As he was leaving the room, Dr. Lindsay asked +him to wait. + +"Mr. Porter is about to go abroad, to try the baths at Marienbad. I have +advised him to take one of our doctors with him to look after his diet and +comfort in travelling,--one that can continue our treatment and be +companionable. It will just take the dull season. I'd like to run over +myself, but my affairs--" + +Lindsay completed the idea by sweeping his broad, fleshy hand over the +large office desk, which was loaded with letters, reports, and documents of +various kinds. + +"What d'ye say, Sommers?" + +"Do you think Porter would want me?" Sommers asked idly. He had seen in the +paper that morning that Porter was out of town, and was going to Europe for +his health. Porter had been out of town, persistently, ever since the +Pullman strike had grown ugly. The duties of the directors were performed, +to all intents and purposes, by an under-official, a third vice-president. +Those duties at present consisted chiefly in saying from day to day: "The +company has nothing to arbitrate. There is a strike; the men have a right +to strike. The company doesn't interfere with the men," etc. The third +vice-president could make these announcements as judiciously as the great +Porter. + +"I have an idea," continued Sommers, "that Porter might not want me; he has +never been over-cordial." + +"Nonsense!" replied the busy doctor. "Porter will take any one I advise him +to. All expenses and a thousand dollars--very good pay." + +"Is Porter very ill?" Sommers asked. "I thought he was in fair health, the +last time I saw him." + +Lindsay looked at the young doctor with a sharp, experienced glance. There +was a half smile on his face as he answered soberly: + +"Porter has been living rather hard. He needs a rest--fatty degeneration +may set in." + +"Brought on by the strike?" + +Lindsay smiled broadly this time. + +"Coincident with the strike, let us say." + +"I don't believe I can leave Chicago just now," the young doctor replied +finally. + +Lindsay stared at him as if he were demented. + +"I've a case or two I am interested in," Sommers explained nonchalantly. +"Nothing much, but I don't care to leave. Besides, I don't think Porter +would be an agreeable companion." + +"Very well," Lindsay replied indifferently. "French will go--a jolly, +companionable, chatty fellow." + +The young doctor felt that Lindsay was enumerating pointedly the qualities +he lacked. + +"Porter's connection will be worth thousands to the man he takes to. He's +in a dozen different corporations where they pay good salaries to +physicians. Of course, if you've started a practice already--" + +"I don't suppose my cases are good for ten dollars." + +Lindsay's handsome, gray-whiskered face expressed a polite disgust. + +"There's another matter I'd like to speak about--" + +"The patient Ducharme?" Sommers asked quickly. + +"I don't know her name,--the woman Miss Clark says you admitted against my +rules. You know there are the free dispensaries for those who can't pay, +and, indeed, I give my own services. I cannot afford to maintain this plant +without fees. In short, I am surprised at such a breach of professional +etiquette." + +Sommers got up from his seat nervously and then sat down again. Lindsay +undoubtedly had the right to do exactly what he pleased on his own +premises. + +"Very well," he replied shortly. "It shan't occur again. I have told the +Ducharme woman to call at my rooms for treatment, and I will give Miss +Clark her ten dollars. She was an exceptionally interesting and instructive +case." + +Lindsay elevated his eyebrows politely. + +"Yes, yes, but you know we specialists are so liable to be imposed upon. +Every one tries to escape his fee; no one would employ Carson, for example, +unless he had the means to pay his fee, would he?" + +"The cases are not exactly parallel." + +"All cases of employment are parallel," Lindsay replied with emphasis. +"Every man is entitled to what he can get, from the roustabout on the wharf +to our friend Porter, and no more." + +"I have often thought," Sommers protested rather vaguely, "that clergymen +and doctors should be employed by the state to do what they can; it isn't +much!" + +"There are the hospitals." Lindsay got up from his chair at the sound of an +electric bell. "And our very best professional men practise there, give +their time and money and strength. You will have to excuse me, as Mr. +Carson has an appointment, and I have already kept him waiting. Will you +see Mrs. Winter and young Long at eleven thirty and eleven forty-five?" + +As Sommers was leaving, Lindsay called out over his shoulder, "And can you +take the clinic, Saturday? I must go to St. Louis in consultation. General +R. P. Atkinson, president of the Omaha and Gulf, an old friend--" + +"Shall be delighted," the young doctor replied with a smile. + +As he stepped into the corridor, one of the young women clerks was filling +in an appointment slip on the long roll that hung on a metal cylinder. This +was an improved device, something like a cash-register machine, that +printed off the name opposite a certain hour that was permanently printed +on the slip. The hours of the office day were divided into five-minute +periods, but, as two assisting physicians were constantly in attendance +beside Sommers, the allotted time for each patient was about fifteen +minutes. + +"Mrs. Winter is in No. 3," the clerk told him. "Long in No. 1, and Mr. +Harrison and a Miss Frost in the reception room." + +So the machine ground on. Even the prescriptions were formularized to such +an extent that most of them were stencilled and went by numbers. The clerk +at the end of the corridor handed the patient a little card, on which was +printed No. 3033, No. 3127, etc., as he circled by in the last turn of the +office. There was an apothecary store on the floor below, where the patient +could sit in an easy-chair and read the papers while the prescription +called for by his number was being fetched by an elegant young woman. + +Sommers hurried through with Mrs. Winter, who was a fussy, nervous little +woman from the West Side; she resented having "a young feller" thrust on +her. + +"I knew Dr. Lindsay when he was filling prescriptions on Madison Street," +she said spitefully. + +Sommers smiled. "That must have been a good while ago, before Chicago was a +big place." + +"Before you was born, young man; before all the doctors who could came down +here in a bunch and set up offices and asked fees enough of a body to keep +'em going for a year!" + +Then young Long; then one, two, three new patients, who had to have +physical examinations before being admitted to Lindsay. Once or twice +Lindsay sent for Sommers to assist him in a delicate matter, and Sommers +hurried off, leaving his half-dressed patient to cool his heels before a +radiator. After the examinations there was an odd patient or two that +Lindsay had left when he had gone out to lunch with some gentlemen at the +Metropolitan Club. By two o'clock Sommers got away to take a hasty luncheon +in a bakery, after which he returned to a new string of cases. + +To-day "the rush," as the clerks called it, was greater than usual. The +attendants were nervous and irritable, answered sharply and saucily, until +Sommers felt that the place was intolerable. All this office practice got +on his nerves. It was too "intensive." He could not keep his head and enter +thoroughly into the complications of a dozen cases, when they were shoved +at him pell-mell. He realized that he was falling into a routine, was +giving conventional directions, relying upon the printed prescriptions and +mechanical devices. All these devices were ingenious,--they would do no +harm,--and they might do good, ought to do good,--if the cursed human +system would only come up to the standard. + +At last he seized his coat and hat, and escaped. The noiseless cage dropped +down, down, past numerous suites of doctors' offices similar to Lindsay's, +with their ground-glass windows emblazoned by dozens of names. This +building was a kind of modern Chicago Lourdes. All but two or three of the +suites were rented to some form of the medical fraternity. Down, down: here +a druggist's clerk hailing the descending car; there an upward car stopping +to deliver its load of human freight bound for the rooms of another great +specialist,--Thornton, the skin doctor. At last he reached the ground floor +and the gusty street. Across the way stood a line of carriages waiting for +women who were shopping at the huge dry-goods emporium, and through the +barbaric displays of the great windows Sommers could see the clerks moving +hither and thither behind the counters. It did not differ materially from +his emporium: it was less select, larger, but not more profitable, +considering the amount of capital employed, than his shop. Marshall Field +decked out the body; Lindsay, Thornton, and Co. repaired the body as best +they could. It was all one trade. + +On State Street the sandwich men were sauntering dejectedly through the +crowd of shoppers: "_Professor Herman Sorter, Chiropodist._" "_Go to +Manassas for Spectacles_";--it was the same thing. Across the street, on +the less reputable western side, flared the celluloid signs of the quacks: +"_The parlors of famous old Dr. Green_." "_The original and only Dr. +Potter. Visit Dr. Potter. No cure, no charge. Examination free._" The +same business! Lindsay would advertise as "old Dr. Lindsay," if it paid to +advertise,--paid socially and commercially. Dr. Lindsay's offices probably +"took in" more in a month than "old Dr. Green" made in a year, without the +expense of advertising. Lindsay would lose much more by adopting the +methods of quackery than he could ever make: he would lose hospital +connections, standing in the professional journals, and social prestige. +Lindsay was quite shrewd in sticking to the conventions of the profession. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +When Sommers reached his rooms that evening, he found Mrs. Ducharme waiting +for him. She held in her hand his card. + +"I thought you'd give me the go-by," she exclaimed, as he entered. "Your +kind is smooth enough, but they don't want to be bothered. But I came all +the same--on the chance." + +"What have you been doing?" the doctor inquired, without noticing her +surliness. "Walking about in the streets all day and making your +inflammation worse?" + +"Well, you see I must find _him_, and I don't know where to look for +him." + +"Well, you won't find your husband walking about the streets, especially if +he's gone off with another woman; but you will get blind and have to go to +the hospital!" + +"Well, I'll kill _her first_." + +"You will do nothing of the sort," said the doctor, wearily. "You'll make a +fuss, and your husband will hit you again, and go away." + +"He was all right, as nice a man as you could find before _she_ came +to Peory. You see she is married to another man, a baker, and they lived in +Decatur. Ducharme--he's a Frenchman--knew her in Decatur where he worked in +a restaurant, and he came to Peory to get rid of her. And he got a job and +was real steady and quiet. Then we got married, and Ducharme was as nice a +man as you ever knew. But we wasn't married a week--we had a kafe +together--before _she_ got wind o' his being married and come to town. +He told me she was trying to get him to go away, and he said how he didn't +want to; but she had influence with him and was worrying around. Well, the +third day he sent me a note by a little boy. 'Caroline,' it said, 'you'se a +good woman and an honest woman and we could get on first rate together; +but, Caroline, I don't love you when she is about. She calls me, and I +go.'" + +"Well, that's all there is to it, isn't it?" Sommers asked, half amused. +"You can't keep him away from the other woman. Now you are a sensible, +capable woman. Just give him up and find a place to work." + +Mrs. Ducharme shook her head sorrowfully. + +"That won't do. I just think and think, and I can't work. He was such a +nice man, so gentlemanlike and quiet, so long as she stayed away. But I +didn't tell you: I found 'em in Peory in a place not fit for hogs to live +in, and I watched my chance and gave it to the woman. But Ducharme came in +and he pushed me out, and I fell, and guess I cracked my head. That's when +my eye began to hurt. The kafe business ran out, and I followed them to +Chicago. And here I been for three months, doing most anything, housework +generally. But I can't keep a place. Just so often I have to up and out on +the road and try to find him. I'll brain that woman yet!" + +She uttered this last assertion tranquilly. + +"She don't amount to much,--a measly, sandy-haired, cheap thing. _I_ +come of respectable folks, who had a farm outer Gales City, and never +worked out 'fore this happened. But now I can't settle down to nothin'; +it's always that Frenchman before my eyes, and _her_." + +"Well, and after you have found her and disposed of her?" asked Sommers. + +"Oh, Ducharme will be all right then! He'll follow me like a lamb. He +doesn't want to mess around with such. But she's got some power over him." + +"Simply he wants to live with her and not with you." + +The woman nodded her head sadly. + +"I guess that's about it; but you see if she weren't around, he wouldn't +know that he didn't love me." + +Mrs. Ducharme wiped away her tears, and looked at the doctor in hopes that +he might suggest some plan by which she could accomplish her end. To him +she was but another case of a badly working mechanism. Either from the blow +on her head or from hereditary influences she had a predisposition to a +fixed idea. That tendency had cultivated this aberration about the woman +her husband preferred to her. Should she happen on this woman in her +wanderings about Chicago, there would be one of those blind newspaper +tragedies,--a trial, and a term of years in prison. As he meditated on this +an idea seized the doctor; there was a way to distract her. + +"The best thing for you to do," he said severely, "is to go to work." + +"Can't get no place," she replied despondently. "Have no references and +can't keep a place. See a feller going up the street that looks like +Ducharme, and I must go after him." + +"I have a place in mind where you won't be likely to see many men that look +like Ducharme!" + +He explained to her the situation of the Ninety-first Street cottage, and +what Mrs. Preston needed. + +"You take this note there to-morrow morning, and tell her that you are +willing to work for a home. Then I'll attend to the wages. If you do what I +want,--keep that fellow well locked up and relieve Mrs. Preston of +care,--I'll give you good wages. Not a word to her, mind, about that. And +when you want to hunt Ducharme, just notify Mrs. Preston and go ahead. Only +see that you hunt him in the daytime. Don't leave her alone nights. Now, +let's see your eye." + +The woman took the brief note which he scribbled after examining her, and +said dejectedly: + +"She won't want me long--no one does, least of all Ducharme." + +Sommers laughed. + +"Guess I better go straight down," she remarked more hopefully as she left. + +He should have taken the woman to the cottage, he reflected after she had +gone, instead of sending her in this brusque manner. He had not seen Mrs. +Preston since his return, and he did not know what had happened to her in +the meantime. To-morrow he would find time to ride down there and see how +things were going with the sick man. + +There was much mail lying on his table. Nothing had been forwarded by +Dresser, in accordance with the directions he had telegraphed him. And he +had seen nothing of Dresser yesterday or to-day. The rooms looked as if the +man had been gone some time. Dresser owed him money,--more than he could +spare conveniently,--but that troubled him less than the thought of +Dresser's folly. It was likely that he had thrown up his position--he had +chafed against it from the first--and had taken to the precarious career of +professional agitator. Dresser had been speaking at meetings in Pullman, +with apparent success, and his mind had been full of "the industrial war," +as he called it. Sommers recalled that the man had been allowed to leave +Exonia College, where he had taught for a year on his return from Germany, +because (as he put it) "he held doctrines subversive of the holy state of +wealth and a high tariff." That he was of the stuff that martyrs of speech +are made, Sommers knew well enough, and such men return to their haven +sooner or later. + +Sommers sorted his letters listlessly. The Ducharme affair troubled him. He +could see that a split with Lindsay was coming; but it must not be brought +about by any act of professional discourtesy on his part. Although he was +the most efficient surgeon Lindsay had, it would not take much to bring +about his discharge. Probably the suggestion about Porter was merely a +polite means of getting him out of the office. Lindsay had said some +pointed things about "the critical attitude." The "critical attitude" to +Lindsay's kind was the last crime. + +Ordinarily he would not have cared. The sacrifice of the three thousand +dollars which Lindsay paid him would have its own consolation. He could get +back his freedom. But the matter was not so simple as it had been. It was +mixed now with another affair: if he should leave Lindsay, especially after +any disagreement with the popular specialist, he would put himself farther +from Miss Hitchcock than ever. As it was, he was quite penniless enough; +but thrown on his own resources--he remembered the heavy, sad young man at +the Carsons', and Miss Hitchcock's remark about him. + +Yet this reflection that in some way it was complicated, that he could not +act impulsively and naturally, angered him. He was shrewd enough to know +that Lindsay's patronage was due, not to the fact that he was the cleverest +surgeon he had, but to the fact that, well--the daughter of Alexander +Hitchcock thought kindly of him. These rich and successful! They formed a +kind of secret society, pledged to advance any member, to keep the others +out by indifference. When the others managed to get in, for any reason, +they lent them aid to the exclusion of those left outside. So long as it +looked as if he were to have a berth in their cabin, they would be amiable, +but not otherwise. + +Among the letters on the desk was one from Miss Hitchcock, asking him to +spend the coming Saturday and Sunday at Lake Forest. There was to be a +small house party, and the new club was to be open. Sommers prepared to +answer it at once--to regret. He had promised himself to see Mrs. Preston +instead. In writing the letter it seemed to him that he was taking a +position, was definitely deciding something, and at the close he tore it in +two and took a fresh sheet. Now was the time, if he cared for the girl, to +come nearer to her. He had told himself all the way back from New York that +he did care--too much. She was not like the rest. He laughed at himself. A +few years hence she would be like the rest and, what is more, he should not +find her so absorbing now, if she were not like the rest, essentially. + +He wrote a conventional note of acceptance, and went out to mail it. +Possibly all these people were right in reading the world, and the aim of +life was to show one's power to get on. He was worried over that elementary +aspect of things rather late in life. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +These days there were many people on the streets, but few were busy. The +large department stores were empty; at the doors stood idle floor-walkers +and clerks. It was too warm for the rich to buy, and the poor had no money. +The poor had come lean and hungry out of the terrible winter that followed +the World's Fair. In that beautiful enterprise the prodigal city had put +forth her utmost strength, and, having shown the world the supreme flower +of her energy, had collapsed. There was gloom, not only in La Salle Street +where people failed, but throughout the city, where the engine of play had +exhausted the forces of all. The city's huge garment was too large for it; +miles of empty stores, hotels, flat-buildings, showed its shrunken state. +Tens of thousands of human beings, lured to the festive city by abnormal +wages, had been left stranded, without food or a right to shelter in its +tenantless buildings. + +As the spring months moved on in unseasonable, torrid heat, all the sores +of the social system swelled and began to break. The bleak winter had seen +mute starvation and misery, and the blasts of summer had brought no revival +of industry. Capital was sullen, and labor violent. There were meetings and +counter-meetings; agitators, panaceas, university lecturers, sociologizing +preachers, philanthropists, politicians--discontent and discord. The +laborer starved, and the employer sulked. + +"The extravagant poor are unwilling to let the thrifty reap the rewards of +their savings and abstinence," lectured the Political Economist of the +standard school. "The law of wages and capital is immutable. More science +is needed." + +"The rich are vultures and sharks," shrieked the Labor Agitator. + +"And will ye let your brother starve?" exhorted the Preacher. + +"For it is as clear as the nose on your face that corporations corrupt +legislatures, and buy judges, and oppress the poor," insinuated the +Socialist. + +"It's that wretched free trade," howled the hungry Politician, "and +Cleveland and all his evil deeds. See what we will do for you." + +"Yes, it's free trade," bawled one newspaper. + +"It's nefarious England," snarled another. + +"It's the greed of Wall Street, the crime against silver, the burden of the +mortgage," vociferated a third. + +"It's 'hard times,'" the meek sighed, and furbished up last year's clothes, +and cut the butcher's bill. + +"Yes, it's 'hard times,' a time of psychological depression and distrust," +softly said the rich man. "A good time to invest my savings profitably. +Real estate is low; bonds and mortgages are as cheap as dirt. Some day +people will be cheerful once more, and these good things will multiply and +yield fourfold. Yea, I will not bury my talent in a napkin." + +Thus the body social threw out much smoke, but no vital heat; here and +there, the red glare of violence burst up through the dust of words and the +insufferable cant of the world. + +The first sore to break, ironically enough, was in the "model industrial +town" of Pullman. That dispute over the question of a living wage grew +bitterer day by day. Well-to-do people praised the directors for their firm +resolve to keep the company's enormous surplus quite intact. The men said +the officers of the company lied: it was an affair of complicated +bookkeeping. The brutal fact of it was that the company rested within its +legal rights. The unreasonable people were dissatisfied with an eighth of a +loaf, while their employers were content with a half. Then there was +trouble among the mines, and the state troops were called out. Sores +multiplied; men talked; but capital could not be coerced. + +But while politicians squabbled and capitalists sulked and economists +talked, a strong tide of fellowship in misery was rising from west to east. +Unconsciously, far beneath the surface, the current was moving,--a current +of common feeling, of solidarity among those who work by day for their +daily bread. The country was growing richer, but they were poorer. There +began to be talk of Debs, the leader of a great labor machine. The A. R. U. +had fought one greedy corporation with success, and intimidated another. +Sometime in June this Debs and his lieutenant, Howard, came to Chicago. The +newspapers had little paragraphs of meagre information about the A. R. U. +convention. One day there was a meeting in which a committee of the Pullman +strikers set forth their case. At the close of that meeting the great +boycott had been declared. "Mere bluff," said the newspapers. But the +managers of the railroads "got together." Some of them had already cut the +wage lists on their roads. They did not feel sure that it was all "bluff." + + * * * * * + +It was the first day of the A. R. U. boycott. Sommers left the Athenian +Building at noon, for Dr. Lindsay's clients carried their infirmities out +of town in hot weather. He took his way across the city toward the station +of the Northwestern Railroad, wondering whether Debs's threats had been +carried out, and if consequently he should be compelled to remain in town +over Sunday. On the street corners and in front of the newspaper offices +little knots of men, wearing bits of white ribbon in their buttonholes, +were idling. They were quiet, curious, dully waiting to see what this +preposterous stroke might mean for them. In the heavy noonday air of the +streets they moved lethargically, drifting westward to the hall where the +A. R. U. committees were in session. Oblivious of his engagements, Sommers +followed them, hearing the burden of their talk, feeling their aimless +discontent, their bitterness at the grind of circumstances. This prodigal +country of theirs had been exploited,--shamefully, rapaciously, +swinishly,--and now that the first signs of exhaustion were showing +themselves, the people's eyes were opening to the story of greed. +Democracy! Say, rather, Plutocracy, the most unblushing the world had ever +seen,--the aristocracy of THOSE WHO HAVE. + +Thus meditating, he jostled against a group of men who were coming from a +saloon. All but one wore the typical black clothes and derby hats of the +workman's best attire; one had on a loose-fitting, English tweed suit. In +this latter person Sommers was scarcely surprised to recognize Dresser. The +big shoulders of the blond-haired fellow towered above the others; he was +talking excitedly, and they were listening. When they started to cross the +street, Sommers touched Dresser. + +"What are you doing here?" he demanded abruptly. + +"What are _you_ doing? You had better get out of town along with your +rich friends." He motioned sneeringly at the bag in Sommers's hand. + +"I fancied you might be up to something of this kind," Sommers went on, +unheeding his sneer. + +"I had enough of that job of faking up text-books and jollying +schoolteachers. So I chucked it." + +"Why did you chuck me, too?" + +"I thought you might be sick of having me hang about, and especially now +that I am in with the other crowd." + +"That's rot," Sommers laughed. "However, you needn't feel it necessary to +apologize. What are you doing with 'the other crowd'?" + +"I'm secretary of the central committee," Dresser replied, with some +importance. + +"Oh, that's it!" Sommers exclaimed. +"It's better than being a boot-licker to the rich." + +"Like the doctors? Well, we won't quarrel. I suppose you mean to give 'us' +a hard time of it? Come in when it is all settled, and we will talk it +over. Meantime you've got enough mischief on your hands to last you for +some months." + +"I don't blame you," Dresser said benignantly, "for your position. Perhaps +if _I_ had had the opportunities--" + +"That's just it. Your crowd are all alike, at least the leaders; they are +hungry for the fleshpots. If _they_ had the opportunities, _we_ +should be served as they are now. That's the chief trouble,--nobody really +cares to make the sacrifices. And that is why this row will be ended on the +old terms: the rich will buy out the leaders. Better times will come, and +we shall all settle down to the same old game of grab on the same old +basis. But _you_," Sommers turned on the sauntering blue-eyed fellow, +"people like you are the real curse." + +"Why?" + +"Because you are insincere. All you want is the pie. You make me feel that +the privileged classes are right in getting what they can out of fools +and--knaves." + +"That's about enough. I suppose you are put out about the money--" + +"Don't be an ass, Dresser. I don't need the hundred. And I don't want a +quarrel. I think you are playing with dynamite, because you can't get the +plunder others have got. Look out when the dynamite comes down." + +"It makes no difference to me," Dresser protested sullenly. + +"No! That's why you are dangerous. Well, good-by. Get your friends to leave +the Northwestern open a day or two longer." + +"There won't be a train running on the Northwestern to-morrow. I've seen +the orders." + +"Well, I shall foot it home, then." + +They shook hands, and Dresser hurried on after his friends. Sommers +retraced his steps toward the station. Dresser's vulgar and silly phrase, +"boot-licker to the rich," turned up oddly in his memory. It annoyed him. +Every man who sought to change his place, to get out of the ranks, was in a +way a "boot-licker to the rich." He recalled that he was on his way to the +rich now, with a subconscious purpose in his mind of joining them if he +could. Miss Hitchcock's wealth would not be enormous, and it would be easy +enough to show that he was not "boot-licker to the rich." But it was hard +to escape caste prejudices, to live with those who prize ease and yet keep +one's own ideals and opinions. If this woman had the courage to leave her +people, to open a new life with him elsewhere--he smiled at the picture of +Miss Hitchcock conjured up by the idea. + +The streets were filthy as always, and the sultry west wind was sweeping +the filth down the street canons. Here in the district of wholesale +business houses a kind of midsummer gloom reigned. Many stores were vacant, +their broad windows plastered with play-bills. Even in the warehouses along +the river a strange stillness prevailed. "Nothing was doing," in the idiom +of the street. Along the platforms of the railroad company's train house, +however, a large crowd of idlers had assembled. They were watching to see +whether the trainmen would make up the Overland Limited. Debs had said that +this company would not move its through trains if it persisted in using the +tabooed Pullmans. Stout chains had been attached to the sleepers to prevent +any daring attempt to cut out the cars at the last moment. A number of +officials from the general offices were hurrying to and fro apprehensively. +There was some delay, but finally the heavy train began to move. It wound +slowly out of the shed, in a sullen silence of the onlookers. In the yards +it halted. There was a derisive cry, but in a few moments it started again +and disappeared. + +"I guess it's all bluff," a smartly dressed young man remarked to Sommers. +"There's the general manager getting into the Lake Forest two-ten, and +Smith of the C., B. and Q., and Rollins of the Santa Fe, are with him. The +general managers have been in session most of last night and this morning. +They're going to fight it out, if it costs a hundred millions." + +The young man's views seemed to be the popular ones in the Lake Forest +train. It was crowded with young business men, bound out of town for their +holiday. Not a few were going to the country club at Lake Forest. In this +time of business stagnation they were cultivating the new game of golf. +There was a general air of blithe relief when the train pulled out of the +yards, and the dirty, sultry, restless city was left behind. +"Blamed fools to strike now," remarked a fat, perspiring stockbroker. +"Roads aren't earning anything, anyhow." + +The conductor who was taking the tickets smiled and kept his own counsel. + +"Good time to buy rails, all the same," his companion answered. + +"I guess this'll yank old Pullman back to town," another remarked, glancing +up from his paper. + +"You don't know him. It won't bother _him_. He's keeping cool +somewhere in the St. Lawrence. It's up to the railroads now." + +"Let's see your clubs. Did you get 'em straight from Scotland? That's a +pretty iron." + +Older men were chatting confidentially and shaking their heads. But the +atmosphere was not gloomy; an air of easy, assured optimism prevailed. "I +guess it will all come out right, somehow, and the men will be glad to get +back to work.... If Cleveland and his free trade were in hell!..." And the +train sped on through the northern suburbs, coming every now and then +within eyeshot of the sparkling lake. The holiday feeling gained as the +train got farther away from the smoke and heat of the city. The young men +belonged to the "nicer" people, who knew each other in a friendly, +well-bred way. It was a comfortable, social kind of picnic of the better +classes. + +Most of the younger men, and Sommers with them, got into the omnibus +waiting at the Lake Forest station, and proceeded at once to the club. +There, in the sprawling, freshly painted club-house, set down on a +sun-baked, treeless slope, people were already gathered. A polo match was +in progress and also a golf tournament. The verandas were filled with +ladies. One part of the verandas had been screened off, and there, in a +kind of outdoor cafe, people were lunching or sipping cool drinks. At one +of the tables Sommers found Miss Hitchcock and Mrs. Porter, surrounded by a +group of young men and women who were talking and laughing excitedly. + +"Ah! you couldn't get the twelve-thirty," Miss Hitchcock exclaimed, as +Sommers edged to her. "We waited luncheon for you until the train came; but +you are in time for the polo. Caspar is playing--and Parker," she added in +a lower tone. "Let us go down there and watch them." + +Miss Hitchcock detached herself skilfully from the buzzing circle on the +veranda, and the two stepped out on the springy turf. The undulating +prairie was covered with a golden haze. Half a mile west a thin line of +trees pencilled the horizon. The golf course lay up and down the gentle +turfy swells between the club-house and the wind-break of trees. The polo +grounds were off to the left, in a little hollow beside a copse of oak. +There were not many trees over the sixty or more acres, and the roads on +either side of the club grounds were marked by dense clouds of dust. Yet it +was gay--open to the June heavens, with a sense of limitless breathing +space. And it was also very decorous, well-bred, and conventional. + +As they strolled leisurely over the lawns in front of the club-house, Miss +Hitchcock stopped frequently to speak to some group of spectators, or to +greet cheerfully a golfer as he started for the first tee. She seemed very +animated and happy; the decorative scene fitted her admirably. Dr. Lindsay +came up the slope, laboring toward the ninth hole with prodigious welter. + +"That's the way he keeps young," Miss Hitchcock commented approvingly. +"He's one of the best golfers in the club. I like to see the older men +showing that they have powers of enjoyment left." + +"I guess there's no doubt about Lindsay's powers of enjoyment," Sommers +retorted idly. + +They passed Mrs. Carson, "ingeniously and correctly associated," as Miss +Hitchcock commented, and little Laura Lindsay flirting with young Polot. + +Miss Hitchcock quickened her pace, for the polo had already begun. They saw +Caspar Porter's little pony fidgeting under its heavy burden. It became +unmanageable and careered wildly up and down the field, well out of range +of the players. Indeed, most of the ponies seemed inclined to keep their +shins out of the melee. Sommers laughed rather ill-naturedly, and Miss +Hitchcock frowned. She disliked slovenly playing, and shoddy methods even +in polo. When the umpire called time, Parker Hitchcock rode up to where +they were standing and shook hands with the young doctor. As he trotted +off, his sister said earnestly: + +"You have done so much for him; we can never thank you." + +"I don't believe I have done so very much," Sommers replied. He did not +like to have her refer to his mission in New York, or to make, woman-wise, +a sentimental story out of a nasty little scrape. + +"I think polo will help him; papa agrees with me now." + +"Indeed!" Sommers smiled, + +"What is it that you don't say?" the girl flashed at him resentfully. + +"Merely, that this is a nice green paddock for a young man to be turned out +in--when he has barked his shins. Do you know what happens to the ordinary +young man who is--a bit wild?" + +"Well, let us not go into it. I am afraid of you to-day." + +"Yes, I am in one of my crude moods to-day, I confess. I had no business to +come." + +"Not at all. This is just the place for you. Nice people, nice day, nice +sporty feeling in the air. You need relaxation badly." + +"I don't think I shall get it exactly here." + +"Why not?" + +The girl looked out over the shaven turf, dotted with the white figures of +the golfers, at the careering ponies which had begun the new round in the +match, up the slope where the club verandas were gay with familiar +figures,--and it all seemed very good. The man at her side could see all +that and more beyond. He had come within the hour from the din of the city, +where the wealth that flowered here was made. And there was a primitive, +eternal, unanswerable question harassing his soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +"Shall we walk over to the lake," the girl suggested gently, as if anxious +to humor some incomprehensible child. "There is a lovely ravine we can +explore, all cool and shady, and this sun is growing oppressive." + +Sommers accepted gratefully the concession she made to his unsocial mood. +The ravine path revealed unexpected wildness and freshness. The peace of +twilight had already descended there. Miss Hitchcock strolled on, +apparently forgetful of fatigue, of the distance they were putting between +them and the club-house. Sommers respected the charm of the occasion, and, +content with evading the chattering crowd, refrained from all strenuous +discussion. This happy, well-bred, contented woman, full of vitality and +interest, soothed all asperities. She laid him in subtle subjection to her. +So they chatted of the trivial things that must be crossed and explored +before understanding can come. When they neared the lake, the sun had sunk +so far that the beach was one long, dark strip of shade. The little waves +lapped coolly along the breakwaters. They continued their stroll, walking +easily on the hard sand, each unwilling to break the moment of perfect +adjustment. Finally the girl confessed her fatigue, and sat down beside a +breakwater, throwing off her hat, and pushing her hair away from her +temples. She looked up at the man and smiled. 'You see,' she seemed to say, +'I can meet you on your own ground, and the world is very beautiful when +one gets away, when one gets away!' + +"Why did you refuse to go abroad with Uncle Brome?" she asked suddenly. She +was looking out idly across the lake, but something in her voice puzzled +Sommers. + +"I didn't want to go." + +"Chicago fascinates you already!" + +"There were more reasons than one," he answered, after a moment's +hesitation, as if he could trust himself no farther. The girl smiled a bit, +quite to herself. Her throat palpitated a little, and then she turned her +head. + +"Tell me about the cases. Are they so interesting?" + +"There is one curious case," the young doctor responded with masculine +literalness. "It's hardly a case, but an affair I have mixed myself up +with. Do you remember the night of the dinner at your house when Lindsay +was there? The evening before I had been at the Paysons' dance, and when I +returned there was an emergency case just brought to the hospital. They had +telephoned for me, but had missed me. Well, the fellow was a drunken brute +that had been shot a number of times. His wife was with him." + +Sommers paused, finding now that he had started on his tale that it was +difficult to bring out his point, to make this girl understand the +significance of it, and the reason why he told it to her. She was +attentive, but he thought she was a trifle bored. Soon he began again and +went over all the steps of the affair. + +"You see," he concluded, "I was morally certain that, if the operation +succeeded, the fellow would be worse than useless in this world. Now it's +coming true. Of course _I_ have no responsibility; I did what any +other doctor should have done, I suppose; and, if it had been an ordinary +hospital case, I don't suppose that I should have thought twice about it. +But you see that I--this woman has got her load of misery saddled on her, +perhaps for life, and partly through me." + +"I think she did right," the girl responded quickly, looking at the case +from an entirely different side. + +"I am not sure of that," Sommers retorted brusquely. + +"What kind of a woman is she?" the girl inquired with interest, ignoring +his last remark. + +"I don't think I could make you understand her. I don't myself now." + +"Is she pretty?" + +"I don't know. She makes you see her always." + +The girl moved as if the evening wind had touched her, and put on her hat. + +"She's a desperately literal woman, primitive, the kind you never +meet--well, out here. She has a thirst for happiness, and doesn't get a +drop." + +"She must be common, or she wouldn't have married that man," Miss Hitchcock +commented in a hard tone. She rose, and without discussion they took the +path that led along the bluff to the cottages. + +"I didn't think so," the doctor answered positively. "And if you knew her, +you wouldn't think so." + +After a moment he said tentatively, "I wish you could meet her." + +"I should be glad to," Miss Hitchcock replied sweetly, but without +interest. + +Sommers realized the instant he had spoken that he had made a mistake, that +his idea was a purely conventional one. The two women could have nothing +but their sex in common, and that common possession was as likely to be a +ground for difference as for agreement. It was always useless to bring two +people of different classes together. Three generations back the families +of these two women were probably on the same level of society. And, as +woman to woman, the schoolteacher, who travelled the dreary path between +the dingy cottage and the Everglade School, was as full of power and beauty +as this velvety specimen of plutocracy. It was sentimental, however, to +ignore the present facts. Evidently Miss Hitchcock had followed the same +line of reasoning, for when she spoke again she referred distantly to Mrs. +Preston. + +"Those people--teachers--have their own clubs and society. Mrs. Bannerton +was a teacher in the schools before she was married. Do you know Mrs. +Bannerton?" + +"I have met Mrs. Bannerton," Sommers answered indifferently. + +He was annoyed at the trivial insertion of Mrs. Bannerton into the +conversation. He had failed to make Mrs. Preston's story appear important, +or even interesting, and the girl by his side had shown him delicately that +he was a bore. They walked more rapidly in the gathering twilight. The sun +had sunk behind the trees, and the ravine below their path was gloomy. The +mood of the day had changed, and he was sorry--for everything. It was a +petty matter--it was always some petty thing--that came in between them. He +longed to recall the moment on the beach when she had asked him, with a +flicker of a smile upon her face, why he had decided to remain in Chicago. +But they were strangers to each other now,--hopelessly strangers,--and the +worst of it was that they both knew it. + + * * * * * + +There was a large house party at the Hitchcock cottage. The Porters and the +Lindsays, with other guests, were there for the holidays of the Fourth, and +some more people came in for dinner. The men who had arrived on the late +trains brought more news of the strike: the Illinois Central was tied up, +the Rock Island service was crippled, and there were reports that the +Northwestern men were going out _en masse_ on the morrow. The younger +people took the matter gayly, as an opportune occasion for an extended +lark. The older men discussed the strike from all sides, and looked grave. +Over the cigars the general attitude toward the situation came out +strongly: the strikers were rash fools; they'd find that out in a few +weeks. They could do a great deal of harm under their dangerous leaders, +but, if need be, the courts, the state, the federal government, would be +invoked for aid. Law and order and private rights must be respected. The +men said these things ponderously, with the conviction that they were +reciting a holy creed of eternal right. They were men of experience, who +had never questioned the worth of the society in which they were privileged +to live. They knew each other, and they knew life, and at the bottom it was +as useless to kick against the laws of society as to interfere with the +laws of nature. Besides, it was all very good--a fair enough field for any +one. + +Sommers was excited by the reports. It made him restless to be lolling here +outside of the storm when such a momentous affair was moving down the lake +under the leaden pall of the city smoke. He asked questions eagerly, and +finally got into discussion with old Boardman, one of the counsel for a +large railroad. + +"Who is that raw youth?" old Boardman asked Porter, when the younger men +joined the ladies on the veranda. + +"Some protege of Alec's," Brome Porter replied. "Son of an old +friend--fresh chap." + +"I am afraid our young friend is not going to turn out well," Dr. Lindsay, +who had overheard the discussion, added in a distressed tone. "I have done +what I can for him, but he is very opinionated and green--yes, very green. +Pity--he is a clever fellow, one of the cleverest young surgeons in the +city." + +"He talks about what he doesn't _know_," Boardman pronounced +sententiously. "When he's lived with decent folks a little longer, he'll +get some sense knocked into his puppy head, maybe." + +"Maybe," Brome Porter assented, dismissing this crude, raw, green, ignorant +young man with a contemptuous grunt. + +Outside on the brick terrace the younger people had gathered in a circle +and were discussing the polo match. Miss Hitchcock's clear, mocking voice +could be heard teasing her cousin Caspar on his performance that afternoon. +The heavy young man, whose florid face was flushed with the champagne he +had taken, made ineffective attempts to ward off the banter. Parker +Hitchcock came to his rescue. + +"I say, Lou, it's absurd to compare us with the teams east. We haven't the +stable. Who ever heard of playing with two ponies?" + +He appealed to Sommers, who happened to be seated next him. + +"Steve Bayliss buys ponies by the carload and takes his pick. You can't +play polo without good ponies, can you?" + +"I don't know," Sommers answered indifferently. + +He was looking at the lights along the shore, and contriving some excuse to +cut short his visit. It was clear that he was uncomfortably out of his +element in the chattering circle. He was too dull to add joy to such a +gathering, and he got little joy from it. And he was feverishly anxious to +be doing something, to put his hand to some plough--to escape the perpetual +irritation of talk. + +The chatter went on from polo to golf and gossip until the group broke up +into flirtation couples. As Sommers was about to stroll off to the beach, +Lindsay came out of the dining room and sat down by him with the amiable +purpose of giving his young colleague some good social doctrine. He talked +admiringly of the manner in which the general managers had taken hold of +the strike. + +"Most of them are from the ranks, you know," he said, "fought their way up +to the head, just as any one of those fellows could if he had the ability, +and they _know_ what they're doing." + +"There is no one so bitter, so arrogant, so proud as your son of a peasant +who has got the upper hand," Sommers commented philosophically. + +"The son of a peasant?" Lindsay repeated, bewildered. + +"Yes, that's what our money-makers are,--from the soil, from the masses. +And when they feel their power, they use it worse than the most arrogant +aristocrats. Of course the strikers are all wrong, poor fools!" he hastened +to add. "But they are not as bad as the others, as _those who have_. +The men will be licked fast enough, and licked badly. They always will be. +But it is a brutal game, a brutal game, this business success,--a good deal +worse than war, where you line up in the open at least." + +Sommers spoke nonchalantly, as if his views could not interest Dr. Lindsay, +but were interesting to himself, nevertheless. + +"That's pretty fierce!" Lindsay remarked, with a laugh. "I guess you +haven't seen much of business. If you had been here during the anarchist +riots--" + +Sommers involuntarily shrugged his shoulders. The anarchist was the most +terrifying bugaboo in Chicago, referred to as a kind of Asiatic plague that +might break out at any time. Before Lindsay could get his argument +launched, however, some of the guests drifted out to the terrace, and the +two men separated. + +Later in the evening Sommers found Miss Hitchcock alone, and explained to +her that he should have to leave in the morning, as that would probably be +the last chance to reach Chicago for some days. She did not urge him to +stay, and expressed her regret at his departure in conventional phrases. +They were standing by the edge of the terrace, which ran along the bluff +above the lake. A faint murmur of little waves rose to them from the beach +beneath. + +"It is so heavenly quiet!" the girl murmured, as if to reproach his +dissatisfied, restless spirit. "So this is good-bye?" she added, at length. + +Sommers knew that she meant this would be the end of their intimacy, of +anything but the commonplace service of the world. + +"I hope not," he answered regretfully. + +"Why is it we differ?" she asked swiftly. "I am sorry we should disagree on +such really unimportant matters." + +"Don't say that," Sommers protested. "You know that it is just because you +are intelligent and big enough to realize that they _are_ important +that--" + +"We strike them every time?" she inquired. + +"Laura Lindsay and Caspar would think we were drivelling idiots." + +"I am not so sure they wouldn't be right!" She laughed nervously, and +locked her hands tightly together. He turned away in discomfort, and +neither spoke for a long time. Finally he broke the silence,-- + +"At any rate, you can see that I am scarcely a fit guest!" + +"So you are determined to go in this way--back to your--case?" + +At the scorn of her last words Sommers threw up his head haughtily. + +"Yes, back to my case." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mrs. Ducharme opened the door of the cottage in response to Sommers's +knock. Attired in a black house dress, with her dark hair smoothly brushed +back from round, fat features, she was a peaceful figure. Sommers thought +there was some truth in her contention that "Ducharme ought to get a +decent-looking woman, anyway." + +"How is Mr. Preston?" he asked. + +Mrs. Ducharme shook her head mournfully. + +"Bad, allus awful bad--and _pitiful_. Calling for stuff in a voice fit +to break your heart." + +"Mind you don't let him get any," the doctor counselled, preparing to go +upstairs. + +"Better not go up there jest yet," the woman whispered. "He _did_ get +away from us yesterdy and had a terrible time over there." She hitched her +shoulders in the direction of Stoney Island Avenue. "We ain't found out +till he'd been gone 'most two hours, and, my! such goings on; we had to git +two perlicemen." + +"I suppose you were out looking for Ducharme?" the doctor asked, in a +severe tone. + +"It was the last time," the woman pleaded, her eyes downcast. "Come in +here. Miss Preston ain't got back from school,--she's late to-day." + +Sommers walked into the bare sitting room and sat down, while Mrs. Ducharme +leaned against the door-post, fingering her apron in an embarrassed manner. + +"I've got cured," she blurted out at last. "My eye was awful bad, and it's +been most a week since you sent me here." + +"Did you follow my treatment?" + +"No! I was out one afternoon--after Mrs. Preston came back from school--and +I had walked miles and miles. Comin' home I passed a buildin' down here a +ways on the avenue where there were picter papers pasted all over the +windows; the picters were all about healin' folks, heaps and heaps in great +theaters, a nice white-haired old preacher doin' the healin'. While I was +lookin' at the picters, a door opened and a young feller came along and +helped 'em carry in a cripple in his chair. He turns to me arter finishin' +with the cripple and says, 'Come in, lady, and be healed in the blood of +the lamb.' In I went, sure enough, and there was a kind of rough church +fitted up with texts printed in great show-bills, and they was healin' +folks. The little feller was helpin' em up the steps to the platform, and +the old feller was prayin', and at last the young feller comes to me and +says, 'Want ter be healed?' and I just got up, couldn't help it, and walked +to the platform, and they prayed over me--you aren't mad, are you?" she +asked suspiciously. + +Sommers laughed. + +"Mrs. Preston said you'd be very angry with such nonsense. But at any rate +the old fellow--Dr.--Dr.--Po--" + +"Dr. Potz," Sommers suggested. + +"That's him. He cured me, and I went back again and told him about +Ducharme. And _he_ says that he's got a devil, and he will cast it out +by prayin'. But he wants money." + +"How much will it cost to cast out the devil?" the doctor inquired. + +"The doctor says he must have ten dollars to loosen the bonds." + +"Well," Sommers drew a bill from his pocket, "there's ten dollars on +account of your wages. Now, don't you interfere with the doctor's work. You +let him manage the devil his own way, and if you see Ducharme or the other +woman, you run away as hard as you can. If you don't, you may bring the +devil back again." + +The woman took the money eagerly. + +"You can go right off to find the doctor," Sommers continued. "I'll stay +here until Mrs. Preston returns. But let me look at your eye, and see +whether the doctor has cast that devil out for good and all." + +He examined the eye as well as he could without appliances. Sure enough, so +far as he could detect, the eye was normal, the peculiar paralysis had +disappeared. + +"You are quite right," he pronounced at last. "The doctor has handled this +devil very ably. You can tell Mrs. Preston that I approve of your going to +that doctor." + +"I wonder where Mrs. Preston can be: she's most always here by half-past +four, and it's after five. He," the woman pointed upstairs to Preston's +rooms, "is sleeping off the effects of the dose Mrs. Preston gave him." + +"The powders?" the doctor asked. + +"Yes, sir. She had to give him two before he would sleep. Well, I'll be +back by supper time. If he calls you, be careful about the bar on the +door." + +After Mrs. Ducharme had gone, the doctor examined every object in the +little room. It was all so bare! Needlessly so, Sommers thought at first, +contrasting the bleak room with the comfortable simplicity of his own +rooms. The strip of coarse thin rug, the open Franklin stove, the pine +kitchen table, the three straight chairs--it was as if the woman, crushed +down from all aspirations, had defiantly willed to exist with as little of +this world's furniture as might be. On the table were a few school books, a +teacher's manual of drawing, a school mythology, and at one side two or +three other volumes, which Sommers took up with more interest. One was a +book on psychology--a large modern work on the subject. A second was an +antiquated popular treatise on "Diseases of the Mind." Another volume was +an even greater surprise--Balzac's _Une Passion dans la Desert_, a +well-dirtied copy from the public library. They were fierce condiments for +a lonely mind! + +His examination over, he noiselessly stepped into the hall and went +upstairs. After some fumbling he unbolted the door and tiptoed into the +room, where Preston lay like a log. The fortnight had changed him markedly. +There was no longer any prospect that he would sink under his disease, as +Sommers had half expected. He had grown stouter, and his flesh had a +healthy tint. "It will take it out of his mind," he muttered to himself, +watching the hanging jaw that fell nervelessly away from the mouth, +disclosing the teeth. + +As he watched the man's form, so drearily promising of physical power, he +heard a light footstep at the outer door, which he had left unbarred. On +turning he caught the look of relief that passed over Mrs. Preston's face +at the sight of the man lying quietly in his bed. What a state of fear she +must live in! + +Without a word the two descended, Sommers carefully barring and bolting the +door. When they reached her room, her manner changed, and she spoke with a +note of elation in her voice: + +"I was _so_ afraid that you would not come again after sending me +help." + +"I shall come as often and as long as you need me," Sommers answered, +taking her hand kindly. "He has had another attack," he continued. "Mrs. +Ducharme told me--I sent her out--and I suppose he's sleeping off the +opiate." + +"Yes, it was dreadful, worse than anything yet." She uttered these words +jerkily, walking up and down the room in excitement. "And I've just left +the schoolhouse. The assistant superintendent was there to see me. He was +kind enough, but he said it couldn't happen again. There was scandal about +it now. And yesterday I heard a child, one of my pupils, say to his +companion, 'She's the teacher who's got a drunken husband.'" + +Her voice was dreary, not rebellious. + +"I don't know what to do. I cannot move. It would be worse in any other +neighborhood. I thought," she added in a low voice, "that he would go away, +for a time at least, but his mind is so weak, and he has some trouble with +walking. But he gets stronger, stronger, O God, every day! I have to see +him grow stronger, and I grow weaker." + +"It is simply preposterous," the doctor protested in matter-of-fact tones, +"to kill yourself, to put yourself in such a position for a man, who is no +longer a man. For a man you cannot love," he added. + +"What would be the use of running away from the trouble? He has ruined my +life. Alves Preston is a mere thing that eats and sleeps. She will be that +kind of thing as long as she lives." + +"That is romantic rot," the doctor observed coldly. "No life is ruined in +that way. One life has been wrecked; but you, _you_ are bigger than +that life. You can recover--bury it away--and love and have children and +find that it is a good thing to live. That is the beauty of human +weakness--we forget ourselves of yesterday." + +In answer to his words her face, which he had once thought too immobile and +passive for beauty, flamed with color, the dark eyes flashing beneath the +broad white brow. + +"Am I just caught in a fog?" she murmured. + +"You are living in a way that would make any woman mad. I might twist +myself into as many knots as you have. I might say that _I_ had caused +this disaster; that March evening my hand was too true. For I knew then the +man ought to die." + +He blurted out his admission roughly. + +"I knew you did," she said softly, "and that has made it easier." + +His voice trembled when he spoke again. "But I live with facts, not +fancies. And the facts are that that ruined thing should not clog you, ruin +_you_. Get rid of him in any way you will,--I advise the county +asylum. Get rid of him, and do it quickly before he crazes you." + +When he had finished, there was an oppressive stillness in the room, as if +some sentence had been declared. Mrs. Preston got up and walked to and fro, +evidently battling with herself. She stopped opposite him finally. + +"The only thing that would justify _that_ would be to know that you +grasped it all--real happiness in that one bold stroke. Such conviction can +_never_ come." + +"Happiness!" he exclaimed scornfully. "If you mean a good, comfortable +time, you won't find any certainty about _that_. But you can get freedom to +live out your life--" + +"You fail to understand. There _is_ happiness. See,--come here." + +She led him to the front window, which was open toward the peaceful little +lawn. On the railroad track behind the copse of scrub oak an unskilful +train crew was making up a long train of freight cars. Their shouts, +punctuated by the rumbling reverberations from the long train as it +alternately buckled up and stretched out, was the one discord in the soft +night. All else was hushed, even to the giant chimneys in the steel works. +One solitary furnace lamped the growing darkness. It was midsummer now in +these marshy spots, and a very living nature breathed and pulsed, even in +the puddles between the house and the avenue. + +"You can hear it in the night air," she murmured; "the joy that comes +rising up from the earth, the joy of living. Ah! that is why we are +made--to have happiness and joy, to rejoice the heart of God, to make God +live, for _He_ must be happiness itself; and when we are happy and +feel joy in living, He must grow stronger. And when we are weak and bitter, +when the world haunts us as I felt this afternoon on leaving the +superintendent, when men strike and starve, and others are hard and +grasping--then He must shrink and grow small and suffer. There _is_ +happiness," she ended, breathing her belief as a prayer into the solitude +and night. + +"What will you do to get it?" Sommers asked, shortly. + +"Do to get it?" She drew back from the window, her figure tense. "When it +comes within my grasp, I will do everything, everything, and nothing shall +hinder me." + +"Meantime?" the doctor questioned significantly. + +"Don't ask me!" She sank into a chair and covered her eyes with her hand. +And neither spoke until the sound of footsteps was heard on the walk. + +"There is Mrs. Ducharme coming home from the charmer of devils. It is time +for me to go," Sommers said. + +The room was so dark that he could not see her face, as he extended his +hand; but he could feel the repressed breathing, the passionate air about +her person. + +"Remember," he said slowly, "whenever you need me--want me for +anything--send a message, and I shall come at once. We will settle this +thing together." + +There was a sharp pressure on his hand, her thin fingers drawing him toward +her involuntarily. Then his hand dropped, and he groped his way to the +door. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The cars were still whirring up and down Stoney Island Avenue when Sommers +left the cottage, but he did not think to stop one. Instead, he walked on +heedlessly, mechanically, toward the city. Frequently he stumbled and with +difficulty saved himself from falling over the dislocated planks of the +wooden walk. The June night was brilliant above with countless points of +light. A gentle wind drew in shore from the lake, stirring the tall rushes +in the adjacent swamps. Occasionally a bicyclist sped by, the light from +his lantern wagging like a crazy firefly. The night was strangely still; +the clamorous railroads were asleep. Far away to the south a solitary +engine snorted at intervals, indicating the effort of some untrained hand +to move the perishing freight. Chicago was a helpless giant to-night. When +he came to the region of saloons, which were crowded with strikers, he +turned away from the noise and the stench of bad beer, and struck into a +grass-grown street in the direction of the lake. There he walked on, +unmindful of time or destination, in the marvellous state of conscious +dream. + +The little space of one day separated him from that final meeting with Miss +Hitchcock in the pleasant cottage above the lake. He had gone there, drawn +by her, and he had gone away repelled, at strife with himself, with her. +Nothing had happened since, and yet everything. As he had said to another +woman, Mrs. Preston was a woman you remembered. And he had said that of a +woman very different from the one he had seen and spoken with this night. +That stricken, depressed creature of the night of the operation had faded +away, and in her place was this passionate, large-hearted woman, who had +spoken to him bravely as an equal in the dark room of the forbidding +cottage. She had thrown a spell into his life this night, and his steps +were wandering on, purposeless, unconscious, with an exhilaration akin to +some subtle opiate. + +Her life was set in noisome places. Yet the poor mass of clay in the upper +room that had burdened her so grievously--what was it, after all, but one +of the ephemeral unrealities of life to be brushed aside? Decay, defeat, +falling and groaning; disease, blind doctoring of disease; hunger and +sorrow and sordid misery; the grime of living here in Chicago in the sharp +discords of this nineteenth century; the brutal rich, the brutalized poor; +the stupid good, the pedantic, the foolish,--all, all that made the waking +world of his experience! It was like the smoke wreath above the lamping +torch of the blast-furnace. It was the screen upon which glowed the rosy +colors of the essential fire. The fire,--that was the one great thing,--the +fire was life itself. + +As he walked on in the tumultuous sensations of dream, the discords of +living were swept away: the beautiful flesh that rotted; the noble human +figures that it was well to have covered; the shame of woman's form, of +man's corrupted carcass; the world that has, with its beauty and charm, +side by side with the world that has not, with its grime and its nastiness. +In the dream that he dreamed the difference between the woman who had +adornment and the other sad one back there in the cottage was as nothing. +The irritating paradox of life was reconciled: there was great +reasonableness in things, and he had found it. + +Men fought and gambled to-day in the factories, the shops, the railroads, +as they fought in the dark ages, for the same ends--for sensual pleasures, +gross love of power, barbaric show. They would fight on, glorifying their +petty deeds of personal gain; but not always. The mystery of human defeat +in the midst of success would be borne in upon them. The barbarians of +trade would give way, as had the barbarians of feudal war. This heaving, +moaning city, blessedly quiet tonight, would learn its lesson of futility. +His eyes that had been long searching the dark were opened now, and he +could bide his few years of life in peace. He had labored too long in the +charnel house. + +He forgave life for its disgusting manifestations, for the triviality of +Lindsay, for the fleshy Porter with his finger in the stock market, for the +ambitious Carson who would better have rested in his father's dugout in +Iowa. They were a part of the travailing world, without which it could not +fulfil its appointed destiny. It was childish to dislike them; with this +God-given peace and understanding one could never be impatient, nor foam at +the mouth. He could enter into himself and remove them from him, from +_her_. Some day they two would quietly leave it all, depart to a place +where as man and woman they could live life simply, sweetly. Yes, they had +already departed, had faded away from the strife, and he was no longer in +doubt about anything. He had ceased to think, and for the first moment in +his life he was content to feel. + +All emotion over life must come to be transmuted to this--an elemental +state of conviction transforming the tawdry acts of life. There was but +this one everlasting emotion which equalized everything, in which all +manifestations of life had their proper place and proportion, according to +which man could work in joy. She and he were accidents of the story. They +might go out into darkness to-night; there was eternal time and multitudes +of others to take their place, to feel the ancient, purifying fire--to love +and have peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The Fourth, of July had never before been kept in the like manner in +Chicago. There was a row or two at Grand Crossing between the strikers and +the railroad officials, several derailed cars and spiked switches, a row at +Blue Island, and a bonfire in the stock yards. People were not travelling +on this holiday, and the main streets were strangely silent and dull. + +Sommers had found no one at the office in the Athenian Building. Lindsay +had not been in since the strike began. Probably he would not appear until +the disorderly city had settled down. Sommers had taken the clinic +yesterday; to-day there was nothing for him to do except exercise his horse +by a long ride in the blazing sunshine. Before he left the office a +telegram came from Lake Forest, announcing that a postponed meeting of the +board of managers of the summer sanitarium for poor babies would be put off +indefinitely. Sommers knew what that meant--no appropriation for carrying +on the work. At the last meeting the board of managers, who were women for +the most part, had disagreed about the advisability of undertaking the work +this season, when every one was feeling poor. Some women had been +especially violent against supporting the charity in those districts where +the strikers lived. + +Miss Hitchcock, who was the secretary, and Sommers had got the heated +members of the board to suppress their prejudices for the present, and vote +a temporary subsidy. The telegram meant that under the present +circumstances it would be hopeless to try to extract money from the usual +sources. The sanitarium and creche would have to close within a week, and +Sommers was left to arrange matters. After he had taken the necessary +measures, he started on his ride. He had in mind to ride out of the city +along the lines of railroad to the southwest to see whether the newspaper +reports of the strike were justified or, as he suspected, grossly +exaggerated. The newspapers, at first inclined to side with the Pullman men +in their demand for arbitration, had suddenly turned about and were +denouncing the strikers as anarchists. They were spreading broadcast +throughout the country violent reports of incendiarism and riot. + +Outside of the stations and the adjacent yards Sommers found little to see. +A great stagnation had settled over the city this hot July day. Somewhat +disappointed in his search for excitement he came back at nightfall to the +cool stretches of the South Parks. He turned into the desolate Midway, +where the unsightly wheel hung an inert, abortive mass in the violet dusk. +His way home lay in the other direction, and his horse trotted languidly. +He had determined to turn back, when suddenly a tongue of flame shot up a +mile away toward the lake. This first long tongue ran out, followed by +another and another, and yet others that raced north and south and up into +the night. + +"The Fair Buildings!" a man on a bicycle shouted, and sped away. + +The broad flames now illuminated the dome of the Administration Building +and the facades of the Court of Honor. Sommers spurred his horse, while the +loungers suddenly, with one cry, poured from the park along the rough paths +of the Midway, streaming out across the prairie toward the fire. He plunged +into the cool gulf under the Illinois Central tracks, then out into a glare +of full day, before the wild, licking flames. The Court of Honor with its +empty lagoon and broken bridges was more beautiful in the savage glow of +the ravaging fire than ever on the gala nights of the exposition. The +fantastic fury of the scene fascinated man and beast. The streaming lines +of people raced on, and the horse snorted and plunged into the mass. Now +the crackling as of paper burning in a brisk wind could be heard. There was +a shout from the crowd. The flames had gained the Peristyle--that noble +fantasy plucked from another, distant life and planted here above the +barbaric glow of the lake in the lustrous atmosphere of Chicago. The +horseman holding his restive steeds drove in a sea of flame. Through the +empty arches the dark waters of the lake caught the reflection and sombrely +relighted the scene. + +Sommers almost knocked over a woman who was gazing in speechless absorption +at the panorama of flame. In the light of the fire he could see that it was +Mrs. Preston. She seemed entranced, fascinated like an animal by the +savagery of the fierce fire. + +"It is grand, beautiful," she murmured to Sommers, who had dismounted. Her +large frame trembled with suppressed excitement, and her face glowed. + +"Beauty eating beauty," Sommers replied sadly. + +"They ought to go, just like this--shoot up into the sky in flame and die, +expire in the last beauty." + +The excitement of the scene loosened her tongue, gave her whole being +expression, and made her words thrill. She took off her hat as if to free +her body, even by that little, while she drank in the scene of leaping +flames, the crescendo of light, the pathetic, noble emptiness between the +fire-eaten pillars of the Peristyle. + +"That is better than the Fair itself. It is fiercer--not mere play." + +"Nature has taken a hand," Sommers said grimly, "and knocks about man's +toys. Look!" + +He pointed to the fairylike brightness of the island in the lagoon. The +green leafage of the shrubbery was suffused in tender light; the waters +reflected calmly all their drapery, but none of the savage desolation of +the pyre in the Court of Honor. Beyond where the gracious pile of the Art +Building stretched across the horizon the light clouds of smoke floated, a +gray wreath in the night. The seething mass of flame began to abate, to +lessen almost imperceptibly, exhausting itself slowly with deep groans like +the dying of a master passion. + +Sommers suggested that they should circle the fire to the south, where they +could see to better advantage the Peristyle now burning almost alone. They +made the circuit slowly, Sommers leading his frightened animal among the +refuse of the grounds. Mrs. Preston walked tranquilly by his side, her face +still illuminated by the fading glow. The prairie lay in gloomy vastness, +lighted but a little way by the waning fire. Along the avenue forms of men +and women--mere mites--were running to and fro. The figures were those of +gnomes toiling under a gloomy, uncertain firmament, or of animals furtively +peeping out of the gloom of dusk in a mountain valley. Helpless shapes +doomed to wander on the sandy strand of the earth! + +The two found a place above the little inlet, directly across from the +burning Peristyle. The fire had burned itself out now, and was dying with +protests of reviving flame spurting here and there from the dark spots of +the Court. The colossal figure rising from the lagoon in front of the +Peristyle was still illuminated,--the light falling upon the gilded ball +borne aloft,--solemnly presiding even in the ruins of the dream. And behind +this colossal figure of triumph the noble horseman still reined in his +frightened chargers. The velvet shadows of the night were falling once more +over the distant Art Building, creeping over the little island, leaving the +lagoons in murky silence. The throngs of curious people that had clustered +about the western end of the fire were thinning out rapidly. A light night +breeze from the empty spaces of prairie wafted the smoke wreaths northward +toward the city of men whose plaything had been taken. At their feet a +white column of staff plunged into the water, hissed and was silent. The +passion was well-nigh spent. + +Mrs. Preston sighed, like a child waking from a long revery, a journey into +another land. + +"I never felt that the fierce things, the passions of life, could bring +their happiness too. It seemed that happiness was something peaceful, like +the fields at night or this lake when it is still. But that is but +_one_ kind. There are many others." + +Her low voice, powerful in its restraint, took up the mood of the place. + +"It dies," Sommers replied. "Burnt out!" + +"No," she protested eagerly; "it remains in the heart, warming it in dull, +cold times, and its great work comes after. It is not well to live without +fierceness and passion." + +The last lights from the fire flickered over her dark hair and sombre face. +She was breathing heavily close by his side, throwing into the soft night a +passionate warmth of feeling. It set his pulses beating in response. + +"You are so insistent upon happiness," the man cried. + +"Yes," she nodded. "To die out without this"--her hand pointed to the +blackened Court of Honor--"is to have lived unfulfilled. That is what I +felt as a child in the rich fields of Wisconsin, as a girl at the chapel of +the seminary." + +And she began, as if to explain herself, to tell the story of the Wisconsin +farm, sleeping heavily in the warm sun among the little lakes; of the crude +fervor that went on under the trees of the quiet seminary hill; of the +little chapel with its churchyard to the west, commanding the lakes, the +woods, the rising bosom of hills. The story was disconnected, lapsing into +mere exclamations, rising to animated description as one memory wakened +another in the chain of human associations. Bovine, heavy, and animal, yet +peaceful, was that picture of Wisconsin farm lands, saturated with a few +strong impressions,--the scents of field and of cattle, the fertile soil, +and the broad-shouldered men, like Holstein cattle. + +The excitement of the evening had set free the heart, and a torrent of +feelings and memories surged up,--disordered, turbulent, yet strangely +unified by the simple nature, the few aims of the being that held them. The +waters of the past had been gathering these past weeks, and now she found +peace in their release, in the abandonment of herself through speech. The +night crept on, cooler now and clouded, the heavens covered with filaments +of gray lace; the horse tied near by stamped and whinnied. But the two +sitting on the shore of the silent lake felt neither the passing of time +nor the increasing cold of the night. + +At the end of her tale the dominant note sounded once more: "Eight or +wrong, happiness! for if we make happiness in the world, we know God. God +lives upon our happiness." + +This belief, which seemed laboriously gathered from the tears of tortured +experience, had become an obsession. She was silent, brooding over it; but +she herself was there, larger, less puzzling and negative than +hitherto,--an awakening force. The man lost his anchor of convention and +traditional reasoning. He felt with her an excitement, a thirst for this +evanescent treasure of joy. + +"If you think that--if your whole story turns out that way--why did you--" +But he paused, unwilling to force her by a brutal proof of illogicality. + +"How is _he_?" he asked at last, with effort. + +Her head had drooped forward, but with this question she moved quickly, as +if suddenly lashed. + +"He is better, always better." + +"My God!" the man groaned. + +"But his mind is weaker--it wanders. Sometimes it is clear; then it is +dreadful." + +"You must not endure it!" + +She laid her hand lightly upon his arm, warning him of the inutility of his +protest. + +"I think we must endure it now. If it had been done earlier, before--" she +answered tranquilly; and added definitely, "it is too late now for any +relief." + +It was on his lips to cry out, "Why, why?" but as his eyes looked into her +face and met her warm, wistful glance, he acquiesced in the fate she had +ordained. He took her hand, the one that had touched him, and for the time +he was content that things should be as they were. She was looking out into +the ruined buildings, where embers hissed; at last she lowered her eyes, +and whispered: + +"It is very good even as it is, now." + +But he rebelled, manlike, unwilling to be satisfied with mere feeling, +desirous of retrieving the irretrievable. "Fool," he muttered, "a weak fool +I have been! _I_ have fastened this monstrous chain about you--about +_us_." + +"Let us not think of it----to-night," she murmured, her eyes burning into +his face. + + * * * * * + +The first gray of the morning was revealing the outlines of the scrub oaks +in the field as the two came back to the cottage. Sommers tied his horse to +a fence-post at the end of the lane, and went in to warm himself from the +chill of the night air. Mrs. Preston prepared some coffee, while he built a +fire in the unused stove. Then she drew up her work-table before the fire +and poured out the coffee into two thick cups. As there was no cream, she +remarked with a little smile, "It is very late for after-dinner coffee!" + +She moved and spoke with extreme caution, not to disturb Mrs. Ducharme and +Preston, who became excitable when awakened suddenly. They drank their +coffee in silence, and Sommers had stood up to leave. + +"I shall come very soon," he was saying, and her face responded with a +little smile that lit up its sober corners and hard lines. Suddenly it grew +rigid and white, and her eyes stared beyond the doctor into the gloom of +the room. Sommers turned to follow her gaze. The door moved a little. There +was some one outside, peering in. Sommers strode across the floor and threw +the door open. In the dim light of the dawn he could see Preston, half +dressed. He had slunk back from the door. + +"Come in," the doctor ordered sternly. + +The man obeyed, shambling into the room with an air of bravado. + +"Oh, it's you, is it, doctor?" he remarked quite naturally, with an air of +self-possession. "Haven't seen you for a long time; you don't come this way +often, at least to see _me_," he added insinuatingly, looking at his +wife. "I heard voices, and I thought I would come down to see what my wife +was up to. Women always need a little watching, doctor, as you probably +know." + +He walked toward the table. As he stood there talking in a sneering voice, +in full flesh, shaved and clean, he certainly did not look like a man +stricken with paresis. Yet the doctor knew that this fitful mood of sanity +was deceitful. The feeble brain had given a momentary spurt. + +"Coffee?" Preston continued, as the others remained silent. "Haven't you +got anything better than coffee? Where have you been, Mrs. Preston and +Dr.--?" + +Mrs. Preston tremblingly poured out some coffee and handed it to him. The +act enraged the doctor. It seemed symbolical. Preston threw the cup to the +floor. + +"None of your rot," he shouted. "I bet _you_ have had something more +than coffee, you--" he glared at his wife, his limbs trembling and +twitching as the nervous irritation gained on him. Sommers sprang forward. + +"Go upstairs," he commanded sternly. "You are not fit to be here." + +"Who are you to give me orders in my own house before _my_ wife?" The +man balanced himself against the table. "You get out of this and never come +back. I am a gentleman, I want you to know, and I may be a drunkard and all +that, but I am not going to have any man hanging--" + +Sommers seized Preston by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the +stairs. The man fought and bit and cursed. A black slime of words fell from +his lips, covering them all with its defilement. Finally the struggles +subsided, and with one mighty effort the doctor threw him into the upper +chamber and closed the door behind them. In a few moments he came +downstairs, bolting the door carefully. When he entered the room, he saw +Mrs. Preston staring at the door as if entranced, her face marble with +horror. + +"I gave him a hypodermic injection. He will sleep a few hours," Sommers +muttered, throwing himself into a chair. + +Mrs. Preston sat down at the table and folded her arms about her face. Her +figure shook with her silent sobs. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +"When the men confront bayonets, you know, they'll give in quick enough. I +have reason to believe that the President has already ordered United States +troops to protect lives and property in Chicago. The general managers will +get an injunction restraining Debs and his crew. When the courts take a +hand--" + + +"So it's to be made into a civil war, is it?" Sommers interposed +sarcastically. "I saw that the bankrupt roads had appealed to the +government for protection. Like spendthrift sons, they run to their +guardian in time of trouble." + +"Oh! you know this thing can't go on. It's a disgrace. I was called to go +to Detroit on an important case; it would mean two thousand dollars to +me,--but I can't get out of the city." + +Dr. Lindsay was in an ill humor, having spent three early morning hours in +driving into town from Lake Forest. Sommers listened to his growling, +patiently if not respectfully, and when the eminent physician had finished, +he spoke to him about a certain operation that was on the office docket for +the following week. + +"You haven't asked my opinion, doctor," he said, in conclusion; "but I have +been thinking over the case. I was present at General Horr's examination, +and have seen a good deal of the case these last days while you were out of +town." Lindsay stared, but the young man plunged on. "So I have ventured to +remonstrate. It would do no good, and it might be serious." + +The day was so hot that any feeling sent beads of perspiration to the face. +Sommers paused when Lindsay began to mop his head. + +"I may say to start with," Lindsay answered, with an irascible air, as if +he intended to take this time to finish the young man's case, "that I am in +the habit of consulting my attending physicians, and not having them +dictate to me--" + +"Who is dictating?" Sommers asked bluntly. "That old man can't possibly get +any good from an operation--" + +"It will do him no harm?" Lindsay retorted, with an interrogation in his +tone that made the younger surgeon stare. What he might have said when he +realized the full meaning of Lindsay's remark was not clear in his own +mind. At that moment, however, one of the women employed in the office +knocked at the door. She had a telephone message. + +"Somebody, I think it was Mrs. Prestess or Preton, or something--" + +"Preston," suggested Sommers. + +"That's it. The message was she was in trouble and wanted you as soon as +possible. But some one is at the wire now." + +Sommers hastened out without making excuses. When he returned, Dr. Lindsay +had dried his face and was calmer. But his aspect was sufficiently ominous; +he was both pompous and severe. + +"Sit down, doctor, will you. I have a few words--some things I have been +meditating to say to you a long time, ever since our connection began, in +fact." + +Sommers did not sit down. He stood impatiently, twirling a stethoscope in +his hand. He had passed the schoolboy age and was a bit overbearing +himself. + +"As a young man of good promise, well introduced, and vouched for by some +of our best people, I have naturally looked for great things from you." + +Sommers stopped the rotation of the stethoscope and squared about. His face +was no longer flushed with irritation. Some swift purpose seemed to steady +him. As Sommers made no reply to this exordium, Lindsay began again, in his +diagnostic manner: + +"But I have been disappointed. Not that you haven't done your work well +enough, so far as I know. But you have more than a young man's +self-assurance and self-assertion. I have noticed also a note of +condescension, of criticism in your bearing to those about you. The +critical attitude to society and individuals is a bad one for a successful +practitioner of medicine to fall into. It is more than that--it is +illiberal; it comes from a continued residence in a highly exotic society, +in a narrow intellectual circle. Breadth of mind--" + +Sommers made an impatient gesture. Every sentence led the florid +practitioner farther and farther into the infinite. Another time the young +surgeon would have derived a wicked satisfaction from driving the doctor +around the field in his argument. To-day the world, life, was amove, and +more important matters waited in the surcharged city. He must be gone. He +said nothing, however, for another five minutes, waiting for some good +opportunity to end the talk. But Lindsay had once lectured in a college; he +did not easily finish his exposition. He vaguely sketched a social +philosophy, and he preached the young specialist successful as he preached +him on graduating days of the medical school. He was shrewd, eloquent, +kind, and boresome. At last came the clause: + +"If you are to continue your connection with this office--" + +"I should like to talk that over with you some other day," Sommers +interposed positively, "when I have more time. I am sorry that I shall have +to leave at once." After a moment, he added, "And if you have any one in +mind for my place, don't bother--" + +Lindsay waved his hand. + +"We never have to 'bother' about any member of our force." + +"Oh! very well. I didn't want to leave you in a hole. Perhaps I was +presumptuous to suppose I was of any importance in the office." + +Sommers stepped briskly to the door, while Lindsay wheeled to his desk. +Before he opened the door, he paused and called back pleasantly: + +"But really I shouldn't operate on the General. Poor old man! And he hasn't +much money--'the usual fee' would come hard on him." + +Lindsay paid no attention to the remark. Sommers had passed from his world +altogether; there would be a long, hard road for this young man in the +practice of his profession in Chicago, if Dr. Lindsay, consulting surgeon +at St. Isidore's, St. Martha's, the Home for Incurables, the Institute for +Pulmonary Diseases, etc., could bring it about. + +Sommers hastily rifled certain pigeonholes of his desk, tossing the letters +into his little black bag, and seizing his hat hurried out. He stopped at +the clerk's desk to leave a direction for forwarding his mail. + +"Going away for a vacation?" Miss Clark queried. + +"Yes, for a good long one," the young surgeon answered. As the door slammed +behind him, the black-haired Miss Clark turned to the assistant +stenographer with a yawn. + +"He's got his travelling papers. I knew there was a fuss when I called him +to the 'phone. I guess he wasn't tony enough for this office." + +Sommers was now sinking down to the heated street, unmindful whether he was +"tony" enough for the Athenian Building or not. Mrs. Ducharme had whispered +over the telephone: "He's gone. Come quick. Mrs. Preston wants you bad." + +For an instant he asked himself if he had made a mistake when he had given +Preston the injection of morphine two days before. A glance at the little +instrument reassured him. Perhaps the woman meant merely that he had got +away again from the cottage. Why, then, such agitation over the creature's +disappearance? But _she_ wanted him "bad." He hurried into the torrid +street out of the cool, marble-lined hall, like a factory hand dismissed +from his job. It was the first break with the order of things he had grown +into. But he had no time for regrets. + +He crossed the deserted streets where the women usually shop, and turned +into the strip of park bordered by the Illinois Central tracks. Possibly a +train might be going out, under a heavy guard of deputy sheriffs, and in +that case he would save much time in reaching Ninety-first Street. +Exhilarated by his new freedom, he walked briskly, threading his way among +the groups of idle workmen who had gathered in the park. As he skirted a +large group, he recognized Dresser, who was shouting a declamatory speech. +The men received it apathetically, and Dresser got off the bench on which +he had stood and pushed his way through the crowd. + +"Well," Sommers said, as Dresser came by him. "How does the good work move? +You've got the courts down on you, and pretty soon there'll be the troops +to settle with. There's only one finish when the workingmen are led by a +man like Debs, and the capitalists have an association of general managers +as staff. Besides, your people have put the issue badly before the public. +The public understands now that it is a question of whether it, every one +of them, shall do what he wants to or not. And the general public says it +won't be held up in this pistol-in-your-face fashion. So Pullman and the +others get in behind the great public opinion, and there you are!" + +"All that newspaper talk about riot and destruction of property is a mass +of lies," Dresser exclaimed bitterly. "Which, way are you going? I will +walk along with you." + +As the two men proceeded in the direction of the big station, Dresser +continued: + +"I _know_ there isn't any violence from the strikers. It's the tough +element and the railroads. They're burning cars themselves so as to rouse +public opinion." + +Sommers laughed. + +"You don't believe it? I suppose you won't believe that the general +managers are offering us, the leaders, money,--money down and a lot of it, +to call the strike off." + +"Yes, I'll believe that; but you won't get any one to believe the other +thing. And you'd better take the money!" + +"We'll have every laboring man in Chicago out on a strike in a week," +Dresser added confidentially. "There hasn't been a car of beef shipped out +of the stock yards, or of cattle shipped in. I guess when the country +begins to feel hungry, it will know something's on here. The butchers +haven't a three days' supply left for the city. We'll _starve_ 'em +out!" + +Sommers knew there was some truth in this. The huge slaughter-houses that +fed a good part of the world were silent and empty, for lack of animal +material. The stock yards had nothing to fill their bloody maw, while +trains of cars of hogs and steers stood unswitched on the hundreds of +sidings about the city. The world would shortly feel this stoppage of its +Chicago beef and Armour pork, and the world would grumble and know for once +that Chicago fed it. Inside the city there was talk of a famine. The +condition was like that of the beleaguered city of the Middle Ages, +threatened with starvation while wheat and cattle rotted outside its grasp. +But the enemy was within its walls, either rioting up and down the iron +roadways, or sipping its cooling draughts and fanning itself with the +garish pages of the morning paper at some comfortable club. It was a war of +injunctions and court decrees. But the passions were the same as those that +set Paris flaming a century before, and it was a war with but one end: the +well-fed, well-equipped legions must always win. + +"They're too strong for you," Sommers said at last. "You will save a good +many people from a lot of misery, if you will sell out now quietly, and +prevent the shooting." + +"That's the cynicism of _your_ crowd." + +"You can't say my crowd any longer; they never were my crowd, I guess." + +"Have you been fired?" Dresser asked, with childish interest. + +"Not exactly, but I fancy Lindsay and I won't find each other's society +healthy in the future." + +"It isn't the same thing, though. Professional men like you can never get +very far from the rich. It isn't like losing your bread and butter." + +"Pretty much that, at present. And I think I shall get some distance from +the rich--perhaps go out farther west into some small town." +Dresser did not reply; he kept on with Sommers, as if to express his +sympathy over a misfortune. The court that led to the Park Row station was +full of people. Men wearing white ribbons were thickly sprinkled in the +crowd. The badge fluttered even from the broad breasts of the few apathetic +policemen. + +The crowd was kept off the tracks and the station premises by an iron +fence, defended by a few railway police and cowed deputy sheriffs. Every +now and then, however, a man climbed the ugly fence and dropped down on the +other side. Then he ran for the shelter of the long lines of cars standing +on the siding. A crew of men recruited from the office force of the +railroad was trying to make up a train. The rabble that had gained entrance +to the yards were blocking their movements by throwing switches at the +critical moment. As Sommers came up to the fence, the switching engine had +been thrown into the wrong siding, and had bunted up at full speed against +a milk car, sending the latter down the siding to the main track. It took +the switch at a sharp pace, was derailed, and blocked the track. The crowd +in the court gave a shout of delight. The switching engine had to be +abandoned. + +At this moment Sommers was jostled against a stylishly dressed woman, who +was trying to work her way through the seething mass that swayed up and +down the narrow court. He turned to apologize, and was amazed to see that +the young woman was Louise Hitchcock. She was frightened, but keeping her +head she was doing her best to gain the vestibule of a neighboring store. +She recognized Sommers and smiled in joyful relief. Then her glance passed +over Sommers to Dresser, who was sullenly standing with his hands in his +pockets, and ended in a polite stare, as if to say, 'Well, is that a +specimen of the people you prefer to my friends?' + +"You've got one of your crowd on your hands," Dresser muttered, and edged +off into the mob. + +"What are you doing here?" Sommers demanded, rather impatiently. + +"I drove down to meet papa. He was to come by the Michigan Central, and +Uncle Brome telephoned that the railroad people said the train would get +through. But he didn't come. I waited and waited, and at last tried to get +into the station to find out what had happened. I couldn't get through." + +Sommers had edged her into a protected corner formed by a large telephone +post. The jostling people stared impudently at the prettily dressed young +woman. To their eyes she betrayed herself at a glance as one of the +privileged, who used the banned Pullman cars. + +"Whar's your kerridge?" a woman called out over Sommers's shoulder. A man +pushed him rudely into his companion. + +"Why don't you take your private kyar?" + +"The road is good enough for _me_!" + +"Come," Sommers shouted in her ear, "we must get out of this at once. Take +my arm,--no, follow me,--that will attract less attention." + +The girl was quite at ease, now that this welcome friend had appeared +opportunely. Another prolonged shout, almost a howl of derision, went up by +the fence at some new trick played upon the frantic railroad officials. + +"What people!" the girl exclaimed scornfully. "Where are the police?" + +"Don't speak so loud," Sommers answered impatiently, "if you wish to escape +insult. There the police are, over there by the park. They don't seem +especially interested." + +The girl closed her lips tightly and followed Sommers. It was no easy task +to penetrate the hot, sweating mob that was packing into the court, and +bearing down toward the tracks where the fun was going on. Sommers made +three feet, then lost two. The crowd seemed especially anxious to keep them +back, and Miss Hitchcock was hustled and pushed roughly hither and thither +until she grasped Sommers's coat with trembling hands. A fleshy man, with a +dirty two weeks' beard on his tanned face, shoved Sommers back with a +brutal laugh. Sommers pushed him off. In a moment fists were up, the young +doctor's hat was knocked off, and some one threw a stone that he received +on his cheek. + +Sommers turned, grasped the girl with one arm, and threw himself and her +upon the more yielding corner of the press. Then he dragged his companion +for a few steps until the jam slackened at the open door of a saloon. Into +this the two were pushed by the eddying mob, and escaped. For a moment they +stood against the bar that protected the window. The saloon was full of +men, foul with tobacco smoke, and the floor was filthy. Flies sluggishly +buzzed about the pools of beer on the bar counter. The men were talking +excitedly; a few thin, ragged hangers-on were looting the free-lunch dishes +surreptitiously. Miss Hitchcock's face expressed her disgust, but she said +nothing. She had learned her lesson. + +"Wait here," Sommers ordered, "while I find out whether we can get out of +this by a back door." + +He spoke to the barkeeper, who lethargically jerked a thumb over his +shoulder. They elbowed their way across the room, Miss Hitchcock rather +ostentatiously drawing up her skirts and threading her way among the pools +of the dirty floor. The occupants of the bar-room, however, gave the +strangers only slight attention. The heavy atmosphere of smoke and beer, +heated to the boiling point by the afternoon sun, seemed to have soddened +their senses. Behind the bar the two found a passage to the alley in the +rear, which led by a cross alley into a deserted street. Finally they +emerged on the placid boulevard. + +"Your face is bleeding!" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed. "Are you hurt?" + +"No," Sommers answered, mopping his brow and settling his collar. "They +were good enough to spare the eye." + +"Brutes!" + +"I wouldn't say that," her companion interrupted sharply. "We are all +brutes each in our way," he added quietly. + +The girl's face reddened, and she dropped his arm, which was no longer +necessary for protection. She raised her crushed and soiled skirt, and +looked at it ruefully. + +"I wonder what has become of poor papa!" she exclaimed. "This strike has +caused him so much worry. I came in from Lake Forest to open the house for +him and stay with him until the trains begin to run again." + +She seemed to expect sympathy for the disagreeable circumstances that +persisted in upsetting the Hitchcock plans. But Sommers paid no attention +to this social demand, and they walked on briskly. Finally Miss Hitchcock +said coldly: + +"I can go home alone, now, if you have anything to do. Of course I should +like to have you come home and rest after this--" + +"I shall have to return to my room for a hat," Sommers replied, in a +matter-of-fact way. "I will leave you at your house." + +Miss Hitchcock insensibly drew herself up and walked more quickly. The +boulevard, usually gay with carriages in the late afternoon, was absolutely +deserted except for an occasional shop-boy on a bicycle. Sommers, hatless, +with a torn coat, walking beside a somewhat bedraggled young woman, could +arouse no comment from the darkened windows of the large houses. As they +passed Twenty-second Street, Miss Hitchcock slackened her pace and spoke +again. + +"You don't think _they_ are right, surely?" + +"No," the doctor replied absent-mindedly. He was thinking how he had been +delayed from going to Mrs. Preston's, and how strange was this promenade +down the fashionable boulevard where he had so often walked with Miss +Hitchcock on bright Sundays, bowing at every step to the gayly dressed +groups of acquaintances. He was taking the stroll for the last time, +something told him, on this hot, stifling July afternoon, between the rows +of deserted houses. In twenty-four hours he should be a part of _them_ +in all practical ways--a part of the struggling mob, that lived from day to +day, not knowing when the bread would give out, with no privileges, no +pleasant vacations, no agreeable houses to frequent, no dinner parties at +the close of a busy day. He was not sorry for the change, so far as he had +thought of it. At least he should escape the feeling of irritation, of +criticism, which Lindsay so much deplored, that had been growing ever since +he had left hospital work. The body social was diseased, and he could not +make any satisfactory diagnosis of the evil; but at least he should feel +better to have done with the privileged assertive classes, to have taken up +his part with the less Philistine, more pitiably blind mob. + +With the absolute character of his nature and the finality of youth, he saw +in a very decisive manner the plunge he was about to make. He was to leave +one life and enter another, just as much as if he should leave Chicago and +move to Calcutta--more so, indeed. He was to leave one set of people, and +all their ways, and start with life on the simplest, crudest base. He +should not call on his Chicago friends, who for the most part belonged to +one set, and after a word from Lindsay they would cease to bother him. He +would be out of place among the successful, and they would realize it as +well as he. But he should be sorry to lose sight of certain parts of this +life,--of this girl, for example, whom he had liked so much from the very +first, who had been so good to him, who was so sincere and honest and +personally attractive. + +Yet it was strange, the change in his feelings toward her brought about in +the few days that had elapsed since they had parted at Lake Forest. It was +so obvious today that they could never have come together. While he had +tried to do the things that she approved, he had been hot and restless, and +had never, for one moment, had the calm certainty, the exquisite fulness of +feeling that he had now--that the other woman had given him without a +single outspoken word. + +If things had gone differently these past months,--no, from his birth and +from hers, too,--if every circumstance of society had not conspired to put +them apart, who knows! They might have solved a riddle or two together and +been happy. But it was all foolish speculation now, and it was well that +their differences should be emphasized at this last chance meeting; that +she should be hostile to him. He summed the matter up thus, and, as if +answering her last remark, said: + +"_They_, my dear Miss Hitchcock, are wrong, and you are wrong, if we +can use pronouns so loosely. But I have come to feel that I had rather be +wrong with them than wrong with you. From to-day, when you speak of 'them,' +you can include me." + +And to correct any vagueness in his declaration, he added,-- + +"I have left Lindsay's shop, and shall never go back." + +He could feel that she caught her breath, but she said nothing. + +"I should never be successful in that way, though it wasn't for that reason +that I left." + +"Do you think you can do more for people by putting yourself--away, holding +off--" + +Her voice sank. + +"That is a subterfuge," Sommers answered hotly, "fit only for clergymen and +beggars for charities. I am not sure, anyway, that I want 'to do for' +people. I think no fine theories about social service and all that +settlement stuff. I want to be a man, and have a man's right to start with +the crowd at the scratch, not given a handicap. There are too many +handicaps in the crowd I have seen!" + +Miss Hitchcock pressed her lips together, as if to restrain a hot reply. +She had grown white from the fatigue and excitement and heat. They were +almost at her father's house, walking along the steaming asphalt of the +quiet avenue. A few old trees had been allowed to remain on these blocks, +and they drooped over the street, giving a pleasant shade to the broad +houses and the little patches of sward. Just around the corner were some +rickety wooden tenements, and a street so wretchedly paved that in the +great holes where the blocks had rotted out stood pools of filthy, rankly +smelling water. + +"I have merely decided to move around the corner," the young man remarked +grimly. + +Miss Hitchcock's lips trembled. She walked more slowly, and she tried to +say something, to make some ill-defined appeal. As she had almost found the +words, a carriage approached the Hitchcock house and drew up. Out of it +Colonel Hitchcock stepped heavily. His silk hat was crushed, and his +clothes were covered with dust. + +"Papa!" his daughter exclaimed, running forward anxiously. "What has +happened? Where have you been? Are you hurt?" + +"No, yes, I guess not," the old man laughed good-naturedly. "Howdy do, +doctor! They stopped the train out by Grand Crossing, and some fellows +began firing stones. It was pretty lively for a time. I thought you and +your mother would worry, so I got out of it the best way I could and came +in on the street cars." + +"Poor papa!" the girl exclaimed, seizing his arm. She glanced at Sommers +defiantly. Here was her argument. Sommers looked on coolly, not accepting +the challenge. + +"Won't you come in, doctor?" Colonel Hitchcock asked. "Do come in and +rest," his daughter added. + +But the young doctor shook his head. + +"I think I will go home and brush up--around the corner," he added with +slight irony. + +The girl turned to her father and took his arm, and they slowly walked up +the path to the big darkened house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Sommers did not go to his rooms, however. He could delay no longer reaching +Mrs. Preston. From the quiet decorous boulevard, with its clean asphalt +pavement and pleasant trees, he turned at once into the dirty cross street. +The oasis of the prosperous in the expanse of cheap houses and tawdry +flat-buildings was so small! It was easy, indeed, to step at least +physically from the one world to the other. + +At a little shop near the cable line he bought a hat and tie, and bathed +his face. Then he took the cable car, which connected with lines of +electric cars that radiated far out into the distant prairie. Along the +interminable avenue the cable train slowly jerked its way, grinding, +jarring, lurching, grating, shrieking--an infernal public chariot. Sommers +wondered what influence years of using this hideous machine would have upon +the nerves of the people. This car-load seemed quiescent and dull +enough--with the languor of unexpectant animals, who were accustomed to +being hauled mile by mile through the dirty avenues of life. His attention +was caught by the ever repeated phenomena of the squalid street. Block +after block, mile after mile, it was the same thing. No other city on the +globe could present quite this combination of tawdriness, slackness, dirt, +vulgarity, which was Cottage Grove Avenue. India, the Spanish-American +countries, might show something fouler as far as mere filth, but nothing so +incomparably mean and long. The brick blocks, of many shades of grimy red +and fawn color, thin as paper, cheap as dishonest contractor and bad labor +could make them, were bulging and lopping at every angle. Built by the half +mile for a day's smartness, they were going to pieces rapidly. Here was no +uniformity of cheapness, however, for every now and then little squat +cottages with mouldy earth plots broke the line of more pretentious +ugliness. The saloons, the shops, the sidewalks, were coated with soot and +ancient grime. From the cross streets savage gusts of the fierce west wind +dashed down the avenue and swirled the accumulated refuse into the car, +choking the passengers, and covering every object with a cloud of filth. +Once and again the car jolted across intersecting boulevards that presented +some relief in the way of green grass and large, heavy-fronted houses. +Except for these strips of parklike avenues, where the rich lived,--pieced +into the cheaper stuff of the city, as it were,--all was alike, +flat-building and house and store and wooden shanty,--a city of booths, of +extemporized shifts. + +Sommers picked up a newspaper that some passenger had thrown aside and +endeavored to distract his mind from the forlorn sight. The sheets were +gritty to the touch, and left a smutch upon the fingers. His clothes were +sifted over with dust and fine particles of manure. The seat grated beneath +his legs. The great headlines in the newspaper announced that the troops +were arriving. Columns of childish, reportorial prattle followed, +describing the martial bearing of the officers, the fierceness of the +"bronzed Indian fighters." The city was under martial law. He read also the +bickering telegrams exchanged between the state authorities and the +federal government, and interviews with leading citizens, praising the +much-vilified President for his firm act in upholding law and order. The +general managers were clever fellows! Sommers threw the grimy sheet aside. +It was right, this firm assertion of the law; but in what a cause, for what +people! + +He turned to the street once more. + +This block, through which the car was grinding its way, had a freakish +individuality in sidewalks. Each builder had had his own idea of what the +proper street level should be, and had laid his sidewalk accordingly. There +were at least six different levels in this one block. The same blunt +expression of wilful individuality was evident in every line of every +building. It was the apotheosis of democratic independence. This was not a +squalid district, nor a tough one. Goose Island, the stock yards, the +Bohemian district, the lumber yards, the factories,--all the aspects of the +city monstrous by right, were miles away. But Halsted Street, with its +picturesque mutations of poverty and its foreign air, was infinitely +worthier than this. Sommers shuddered to think how many miles of Cottage +Grove Avenue and its like Chicago contained,--not vicious, not squalid, +merely desolate and unforgivably vulgar. If it were properly paved and +cleaned, it would be bearable. But the selfish rich and the ignorant poor +make bad housekeepers. + +On, on they jolted and jarred, dropping along the cross streets a cargo of +indifferent souls, and taking in a new cargo of white-ribboned men, who +talked in loud voices or spat ruminatively over the floors. Sommers sank +back listless. It was well that he had taken this way of entering the new +life. To have galloped south through the cool parks would have been absurd, +like playing at charity. This was the life of the people,--not the +miserably poor, but the mean and small, the mass in this, our prosperous +country. Through the dirty, common avenues, without one touch of beauty, +they were destined to travel all their days, and he with them. + +He shut his eyes and thought of the woman to whom he was journeying. Hers +was the face he had seen in imagination in all his moods of revolt, of +disgust with the privileged. She was the figure, paramount, of those who +had soul enough to thirst for beauty, happiness, life, and to whom they +were denied. The machine of society whirled some aloft--the woman he had +just left--but it dragged her down. It was the machine that maddened him. +He was taking himself away from those who governed the machine, who ran it +and oiled it, and turned it to their own pleasures. He had chosen to be of +the multitude whom the machine ground. The brutal axioms of the economists +urged men to climb, to dominate, and held out as the noblest ideal of the +great commonwealth the right of every man to triumph over his brother. If +the world could not be run on any less brutal plan than this creed of +_success, success_, then let there be anarchy--anything. + +With a final groan the cable train came to a halt, and the hypnotic sleep +of the pilgrimage through Cottage Grove Avenue ended. Sommers started +up--alert, anxious, eager to see _her_ once more, the glow of +enchantment, of love renewed in his soul. Yet at the very end of his +journey he was fearful for the first time. How could they meet, after the +foul scene with Preston? + +Mrs. Ducharme opened the cottage door, and recognizing the young doctor in +the twilight sighed with relief. Her placid countenance was ruffled. + +"Where is Mrs. Preston?" he demanded hastily. + +"She's gone out for a moment. I made her take a turn." + +"How is Mr. Preston?" + +Mrs. Ducharme's face assumed a frightened expression. She spoke in low +tones, as if the patient might still overhear. + +"He's rested for good, poor man! He won't want no more liquor this life, I +guess." Then more solemnly she ended, "He's at peace." + +Without further words Sommers went upstairs. The outer door was unbarred, +and the door into the room open. Preston was lying, clean and quiet, in a +clean bed with a fresh counterpane. His face was turned to one side, as if +he were sleeping. His eyes were suspiciously reddened under the lids, and +his cheeks had rather more bloat than the doctor remembered. He was dead, +sure enough, at peace at last, and the special cause for the ending was of +little importance. Sommers proceeded to make an examination, however; he +would have to sign a certificate for the health officers. As he bent over +the inert form, he had a feeling of commiseration rather than of relief. +Worthless clay that the man was, it seemed petty now to have been so +disturbed over his living on, for such satisfactions as his poor fragment +of life gave him. Like the insignificant insect which preyed on its own +petty world, he had, maybe, his rights to his prey. At all events, now that +he had ceased to trouble, it was foolish to have any feeling of disgust, of +reproach, of hatred. God and life had made him so, as God and life had made +the mighty.... + +Suddenly the doctor's eye detected something that arrested his attention, +and he proceeded to look at the dead man more carefully. Then he started +back and called out to the woman below. When she came panting up the +stairs, he asked sternly: + +"Was he given anything?" + +"What?" she asked, retreating from the room. + +"Any medicine?" the doctor pursued, eying her sharply. + +"He was took bad last night, and Mrs. Preston went to see what was the +matter. She might have given him somethin' to rest him. I dunno." + +The doctor went back to the dead man and examined him again; the woman +crawled away. Again Sommers abandoned his task, nervously twitching the +bedclothes over the cold form. He went to the window and opened it, and +stood breathing the night air. There was another step upon the stair, and +Sommers turned. It was Mrs. Preston. She started on seeing the doctor, and +he noticed how pale her face appeared, even in the darkening room. He was +also conscious of the start she had given. + +"I have looked for you so long!" she exclaimed eagerly, hastening toward +him, and then stopping in embarrassment. + +"I was detained, hindered in every possible way," the doctor replied. His +tone was chilling, preoccupied. + +"He was ill last night, but I thought nothing of it. When I returned from +an errand this noon, he had fallen into a kind of stupor--last night he was +so excited--and I was alarmed. I had Mrs. Ducharme telephone for you then. +He did not come out of his stupor," she added in a low tone. + +Sommers stepped back to the bedside. "Did you--" he began involuntarily, +but he left his sentence unfinished, and turned away again. + +"I have completed my examination," he said at last. "Let us go downstairs." + +When they had reached the sitting room, Mrs. Preston lighted a lamp and +placed it on the table beside the doctor. The strong light increased the +pallor of her face. Sommers noticed that the eyes were sunken and had black +circles. His glance rested on her hands, as she leaned with folded arms on +the table. They were white and wan like the face. The blood seemed to have +left her body. + +Sommers raised his eyes and looked at her face. She returned his glance for +a moment, then flushes of color spread over her face and died down, and she +dropped her face. He laid his hand softly upon hers, and spoke her name for +the first time, "Alves." A tear dropped on his hand beneath the lamp, then +another and another. He started up from his seat and strode to the window, +keeping his back turned to the quiescent woman. It was terrible! He knew +that he was a fool, but none the less something awesome, cruel, forbidding, +tainted the atmosphere. + +At last he said in a dull voice: + +"Mrs. Preston, will you get me pen and ink. I must fill out the usual +certificate, stating the disease that caused death," he added meaningly, +wheeling about. + +She started, stung by his formal words, and fetched writing materials. As +he wrote out the certificate, she went into the next room. When she +returned, Sommers got up and crossed toward her, impelled by an +irresistible desire _to know_. + +"I have said that death was due to congestion of the brain, indirectly +resulting from illness and operation for the removal of a bullet." + +Mrs. Preston stared at him, her face curiously blank, as though to say, +'Why are you so cruel?' He offered her the wisp of paper. + +"Put it there!" she cried, motioning to the mantelpiece. + +The doctor placed the certificate on the mantel, and then returned to his +chair by the lamp. + +"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked abruptly. + +"I have done--the necessary things--he will be buried to-morrow afternoon." + +Her words came with an effort, as if every voluntary act caused her pain. + +"I am sorry that I did not come earlier, to save you these tasks," the +doctor answered more gently. "Isn't there some one you would like to send +for, some relative or friend?" + +She shook her head, looking at him with beseeching eyes. Then they were +silent, until the silence was too much to be borne. Sommers rose hastily to +take leave. + +"I can do nothing more to-night," he said hastily. "I shall come +to-morrow." + +She made no reply and did not rise. Outside, the place seemed so deadly +still! The house was dark; the neighboring avenue, unusually deserted. +Sommers shivered. After he had reached the end of the lane, he turned back, +and walked swiftly to the cottage. At the corner he looked into the room +where they had been sitting. She was still in the same place where he had +left her, by the lamp, her white, almost stern face, with its large, severe +lines, staring fiercely into space. It made him uneasy, this long, tense +look that betrayed a mind fixed upon one idea, and that idea! He crept away +into the lane to flee from it, and walked swiftly down the cross street +toward the lake. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +"It could not be!" he muttered, as he stumbled on in the dark. He was +oversuspicious. But how else could the facts be explained? Such deaths, he +knew, did not occur to men in Preston's condition,--calm, easy deaths, +without the agony of convulsion. _No_, it _must be_. Science was +stronger than desire, than character, than human imagination. To disbelieve +his scientific knowledge would be to deny the axioms of life. + +And why should it not be? Was it not what he had reproached himself for not +doing, and reproached his medical brethren as cowards for not daring to do +in so many cases? The horror of it, the uncanniness of it, thus stopping +the human animal's course as one would stop an ill-regulated watch, had +never appealed to him before. "Prejudice!" he cried aloud. His involuntary +drawing back was but an unconscious result of the false training of +centuries. As a doctor, familiar with death, cherishing no illusions about +the value of the human body, he should not act like a nervous woman, and +run away! How brutal he had been to her! + +His mind passed on, traversing vast areas of speculation by a kind of +cerebral shorthand. What would be the result upon humanity if all doctors +took this liberty of decision? Where could you draw the distinction between +murder and medicine? Was science advanced enough as yet to say any certain +thing about the human body and mind? There were always mysterious +exceptions which might well make any doctor doubtful of drastic measures. +And the value of human life, so cheap here in this thirsty million of +souls, cheap in the hospitals; but really, essentially, at the bottom of +things, who knew how cheap it was? + +Thus for an hour or more his mind was let loose among the tenebra of life, +while his feet pushed on mechanically over the dusty roads that skirted the +lake. He had nowhere to go, now that he had broken with the routine of +life, and he gave himself up to the unaccustomed debauch of willess +thinking. He was conscious at length of traversing the vacant waste where +the service-buildings of the Fair had stood. Beyond were the shattered +walls of the little convent, wrapped in the soft summer night. There they +had sat together and watched the fire die out, while she told her story, +and he listened in love. + +The real thing--was the woman. This thought stung him like a reproach of +cowardice. He had forgotten her! And she was but the instrument in the +deed, for he had taught her that this care of a worthless life was +sentimental, hysterical. He had urged her to put it away in some easy +fashion, to hide it at least, in some sort of an asylum. That she had +steadfastly refused to do. Better death outright, she had said. And that +which he had feared to undertake, she had done, fearlessly. He had +recoiled; it made him tremble to think of her in that act. What cowardice! +These were the consequences of his teaching, of his belief. + +What had made her take this resolution so suddenly? There was time, all the +time in the world, and having once neglected the thing at the very start, +it was curious that she should now, at this late date, make her desperate +resolve. Preston had not been worse, more difficult to handle. In fact, +when the two women had grown used to his case, the management had been +simple enough. He had thought she was inured to the disgust and the +horror--placid almost, and taking the thing like one accustomed to pain. +What was the cause of her revolt from her burden? Those filthy words the +night they had come back late, when the fellow had stolen downstairs and +spied upon them at their coffee. Had the shame of it before him stung her +past enduring? Had it eaten into her mind and inflamed her? + +But his feverish imagination was not content with this illumination of the +facts. Something more lay behind it all. He sat down beside a prostrate +column to penetrate the gloom. As he gazed before him into the dark +heavens, the blast furnace winked like an evil eye, then silently belched +flame and smoke, then relapsed into its seething self. The monster's breath +illumined the dusky sky for a few moments. Blackness then fell over all for +two minutes, and again the beast reappeared. Far away to the west came +through the night a faint roar, like the raving of men. There was a line of +light against the horizon: the mob was burning freight cars. Soon the +bonfire died down. The cries sounded more and more faintly, and more +distinctly came the sharp reports of revolvers or military rifles. The law +had taken a hand in the game. + +It was a night like this when the first glow of joy had suffused his life; +and then had come that night, that wonderful night, which began, in the +lurid fire, and ended foully with Preston's words. Here was the key: she +too loved, as he had, and this feeling which had drawn them together from +the very moment when he had looked from the helpless form on the hospital +chair to her had grown, surging up in her heart as in his--until, until she +had taken this last stern step, and had-- + +He had begun to walk once more, heading south, retracing his steps by the +most direct line. To leave her thus, with all the horror; thus when she had +reached out to him--oh, the shame, the brutality of it! He hastened his +steps almost to a run. Perhaps it was already too late; his cold, hard +manner had killed her love, crushed her, and she had gone on to the next +step. The night was cold now, but his hands were damp with a feverish +sweat. How blind, not to have read at once, as she would have done, the +whole deed! What she had done, she had done for him, for both, and he had +left her to carry the full burden alone. Like a boy, he had wavered at the +sight of what she had accomplished so swiftly, so competently, for +_their_ sake. To love shamefully, that was not in her, and she had put +the cause of shame away. As he hurried on southwards, his thoughts flew out +on this new track. She had made the way clear; he must go to her, take her, +accept her acts with her love. They were one now. + +It was late, past midnight, when he reached the long cross street that led +to the lane of the cottage, and the buzz of the passing cars no longer +disturbed the hoarse chorus of frogs. Sommers crept up the lane stealthily +to the dark cottage, afraid for what he might find, chilled by the +forbidding aspect of the place. Instead of entering the door, he paused by +the open window and peered in. Within the gloom of the room he could make +out her bent figure, her head fallen forward over her arms. She was sitting +where he had left her, but the spell of her tense gaze had broken. She had +laid her head upon the table to weep, and had not raised it all these +hours. The night wind soughed into the room through the open window, +drifting a piece of paper about the floor, poking into the gloom of the +interior beyond. + +Sommers noiselessly pushed open the door and entered the room. The bent +figure did not heed the tread of his steps. He stood over her, knelt down, +and wrapped her in his arms. + +"Alves!" he whispered. + +She roused herself as from a dream and turned her face to his, wonderingly. + +"Alves," he stammered, reading eagerly the sombre lines of her face, "I +have come back--for always." + +Then she spoke, and her voice had a mechanical ring, as if for a long time +it had not been used. + +"But you left me--why did you come back?" + +"You know," he answered, his feverish face close to her white forehead. +"You know!" The face was so cold, so large and sombre, that it seemed to +chill his fever. + +"I have come to share--to have you, because I love, because we loved--from +the first, all through." + +At his slow, trembling words, the woman's face filled with the warm blood +of returning life. Her flesh paled and flushed, and her eyes lit slowly +with passion; her arms that had rested limply on the table took life once +more and grasped him. The feeling sweeping into her lifeless body thrilled +him like fire. She was another woman--he had never known her until this +communicating clasp. + +"You love me?" she asked, with a moan of inarticulate abandonment. + +"Love you, love you, love you, Alves," he repeated in savage iteration. +"Now,--" he kissed her lips. They were no longer cold. "You are mine, mine, +do you understand? Nothing shall touch you. _That_ has passed!" + +For a moment she looked at him in question. But instantly her face smiled +in content, and she flashed back his passion. She kissed him, drawing him +down closer and closer into her warm self. + +With this long kiss a new love put forth its strength, not the pale +beatitude of his dream, with its sweet wistfulness, its shy desires. That +was large and vague and insubstantial, permeating like an odor the humdrum +purlieus of the day. This was savage, triumphant, that leaped like flame +from his heart to his mouth, that burned blood-red on the black night. It +swept away hesitation, a sick man's nicety and doubts, all the prejudices +of all times! This was love, unchained, that came like waters from the +mountains to quench the thirst of blazing deserts: parched, dry, in dust; +now slaked and yet ever thirsty. + +"How could it have been otherwise," he murmured, more to himself than to +her. + +"What?" she asked, startled, withdrawing herself. + +"Don't think, don't think!" he exclaimed, in fear of the ebbing of the +waters. + +Her doubts were calmed, and she yielded to his insistence, slipping into +his arms with an unintelligible cry, the satisfied note of desire. For all +the waiting of the empty years came this rich payment--love that satisfied, +that could never be satisfied. + + * * * * * + +In the first light of the morning the Ducharme woman, creeping from her +room in the rear, caught sight of them. Mrs. Preston's head was lying on +the doctor's arm, while he knelt beside the table, watching her pale face +in its undisturbed sleep. At the footfall, he roused her gently. Mrs. +Ducharme hastily drew back. She, too, did not seem to have passed a +peaceful night. Her flabby fat face was sickly white, and she trembled as +she opened the side door to the hot morning sun. She threw some small thing +into the waste by the door; then looking around to see that she was not +observed, she hurled with all her strength a long bottle toward the swamp +across the fence. The bottle fell short of the swamp, but it sank among the +reeds and the fleurs-de-lys of the margin. Then the woman closed the door +softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +That morning Sommers returned to the city. Mrs. Preston had asked him to +notify Dr. Leonard and Miss M'Gann, the only friends she had in Chicago, +that the funeral would take place late in the afternoon. In the elevator of +the Athenian Building, Sommers met Dr. Lindsay with Dr. Rupert, the oldest +member of the office staff. The two men bowed and edged their backs toward +Sommers. He was already being forgotten. When the elevator cage discharged +its load on the top floor, Rupert, who was popularly held to be a genial +man, lingered behind his colleague, and tried to say something to the young +doctor. + +"Private practice?" he asked sympathetically, "or will you try hospital +work again?" + +"I haven't thought anything about it," Sommers replied truthfully. + +Rupert, a man of useful, mediocre ability, eyed the younger man with +curiosity, thinking that doubtless he had private means; that it was a pity +he and Lindsay had fallen out, for he was a good fellow and clever. + +"Well--glad to see you. Drop in occasionally--if you stay in Chicago." + +The last phrase stung Sommers. It seemed to take for granted that there +could be nothing professionally to keep him in Chicago after the fiasco of +his introduction. He would have to learn how much a man's future depended +upon the opinion of men whose opinion he despised. + +Dr. Leonard came out of his den, where he was filling a tooth. His +spectacles were pushed up over his shaggy brows, and little particles of +gold and of ground bone clung untidily to the folds of his crumpled linen +jacket. His patients did not belong to the class that is exacting about +small things. + +"So the feller has taken himself off for good," he observed, after +listening to the doctor's brief statement. "That's first-rate, couldn't be +better for Alves." + +Sommers started at the familiar use of the first name. "She's never had a +show. Preston wasn't much except as a looker. The first time she came in +here I could see how things stood. But you couldn't budge her from +him--jest like a woman--she loved him." + +Sommers must have shown some irritation, for Dr. Leonard, watching him +closely, repeated: + +"Yes! she loved _him_, would have him back, though I argued with her +against it. Well, I'm glad it's settled up now so clever. Of course I'll be +out to the funeral. Alves ain't got any folks near connected, and +Preston--well, it's no use harboring hard thoughts about dead folks. +They'll have to settle with some one else, won't they?" + +From the Athenian Building Sommers went to an ambitious boarding-house that +called itself a hotel, where Miss M'Gann boarded. A dirty negro boy opened +the door, and with his duster indicated the reception room. Miss M'Gann +came down, wearing a costume of early morning relaxation. She listened to +the news with the usual feminine feeling for decorum, compounded of +curiosity, conventional respect for the dead, and speculation for the +future. + +"Poor Mrs. Preston! I'll go right down and see her. I've been thinking for +a week that I'd take a run on my bike down that way. But things have been +so queer, you know, that I didn't feel--you understand?" + +The doctor nodded and rose to go. Miss M'Gann's note was more jarring than +the kindly old dentist's. + +"Oh, you aren't going!" Miss M'Gann protested regretfully. "I want to ask +so many questions. I am _so_ glad to see you. I feel that I know you +_very_ well. Mr. Dresser, your intimate friend, has spoken to me about +you. Such an interesting man, a little erratic, like a genius, you know." + +As Sommers remained stiffly mute, Miss M'Gann's remarks died away. + +"There is nothing more to tell," he said, getting up. "Of course Mrs. +Preston has had a very serious strain, and I,--her friends,--must see that +she has rest." + +"Sure," Miss M'Gann broke in warmly; "now a lot of us girls are going up to +Plum Lake, Michigan, for four weeks. It would be good for her to be with a +nice party--" + +"We will see," the doctor said coldly. + +Later Miss M'Gann said to one of her friends: "Talkin' to him is like +rubbing noses with an iceberg. He's one of your regular freeze-you-up, +top-notchy eastern swells." + +"Perhaps it would be well if Mrs. Preston came here to stay with you for a +few days. I will ask her," Sommers suggested, as he shook hands. + +"Certainly," Miss M'Gann replied warmly, "first-class house, good society, +reasonable rates, and all that." + +But the doctor was bowing himself out. + +'He's taking some interest in the fair widow's welfare,' Miss M'Gann +commented, as she watched him from behind the hall-door curtain. 'I hope he +won't get the d. t.'s like number one, and live off her. Think she'd have +had warning to wait a reasonable time.' + +Meantime Sommers was musing over the "breezy" and "lively" Miss M'Gann, +who, he judged, contributed much to the gayety of the Keystone Hotel. He +had been hasty in suggesting that Alves might find a refuge in the +Keystone. It would be for a few days, however, for he planned--he was +rather vague about what he had planned. He wondered if there would be much +of Miss M'Gann in the future, their future, and he longed to get away, to +take Alves and fly. + +He was tired; the sun was relentless. But he must make arrangements to sell +his horse as soon as possible, and to give up his rooms. For the first time +in his life he was conscious that he wanted to talk with a man, to see some +friend. But of all the young professional men he had met in Chicago, there +was not one he could think of approaching. On his way to his rooms he +passed the Lake Front Park, where some companies of troops were encamped. +Tents were flapping in the breeze, a Gatling gun had been placed, and +sentries mounted. The bronzed young soldiers brought in from the plains +were lounging about, watching the boulevard, and peering up at the massive +walls of the Auditorium. The street was choked with curious spectators, +among whom were many strikers. The crowd gaped and commented. + +"They'll _shoot_," one of the onlookers said almost proudly. "There +ain't no use in foolin' with the reg'lars. Those fellows'd pop you or me as +soon as a jack-rabbit or a greasy Injun." + +The sinewy sentry shifted his gun and tramped off, his blue eyes marvelling +at the unaccustomed sights of the great city, all the panoply of the +civilization that he was hired to protect. + +The city was under martial law, but it did not seem to mind it. The +soldiers had had a few scuffles with rowdies at Blue Island and the stock +yards. They had chased the toughs in and out among the long lines of +freight cars, and fired a few shots. Even the newspapers couldn't magnify +the desultory lawlessness into organized rebellion. It was becoming a +matter of the courts now. The general managers had imported workmen from +the East. The leaders of the strike--especially Debs and Howard--were +giving out more and more incendiary, hysterical utterances. All workingmen +were to be called out on a general strike; every man that had a trade was +to take part in a "death struggle." But Sommers could see the signs of a +speedy collapse. In a few days the strong would master the situation; then +would follow a wrangle in the courts, and the fatal "black list" would +appear. The revenge of the railroads would be long and sure. + +Sommers went to his rooms and sought to get some rest before the time set +for the funeral. The driving west wind, heated as by a furnace in its mad +rush over the parched prairies, fevered rather than cooled him. His mind +began to revolve about the dead man, lying with heavy, red-lidded eyes in +the cottage. Was it,--was it murder? He put the thought aside laboriously, +only to be besieged afresh, to wonder, to argue, to protest. After three +hours of this he dressed and took the cable car for the cottage. He might +find some pretext to examine the dead man again before the others came. + +At the cottage gate, however, he overtook the good dentist, bearing a large +florist's box. Miss M'Gann was already within the little front room, and +Alves was talking in low tones with a sallow youth in a clerical coat. At +the sight of the newcomers the clergyman withdrew to put on his robes. Dr. +Leonard, having surrendered the pasteboard box to Miss M'Gann, grasped Mrs. +Preston's hand. + +"Alves," he began, and stopped. Even he could feel that the commonplaces of +the occasion were not in order. "Alves, you know how mighty fond of you I +am." + +She smiled tranquilly. Her air of calm reserve mystified the watchful young +doctor. The clergyman returned, followed by Mrs. Ducharme and Anna Svenson. +The Ducharme woman's black dress intensified the pallor of her flabby face. +Her hands twitched nervously over the prayer-book that she held. Subject to +apoplexy, Sommers judged; but his thoughts passed over her as well as Miss +M'Gann, who stood with downcast eyes ostentatiously close to Mrs. Preston, +and the grave old dentist standing at the foot of the coffin, and the +clergyman whose young voice had not lost its thrill of awe in the presence +of death. He had no eyes for aught but the woman, who was bound to him by +firmer ties than those whose dissolution the clergyman was recording. She +stood serene, with head raised above theirs, revealing a face that sadness +had made serious, grave, mature, but not sad. She displayed no affected +sorrow, no nervous tremor, no stress of a reproachful mind. Unconscious of +the others, even of the minister's solemn phrases, she seemed to be +revolving truths of her own, dismissing a problem private to her own heart. +To the man who tried to pierce beneath that calm gaze, the woman's complete +control was terrible. + +The minister's grave voice went on, pronouncing the grave sentences of the +service. The ceremonial words sounded all the more fateful said over this +poor body. The little of life that he had had,--the eating and drinking in +restaurants and hotels, the chaffing and trading with his own kind, the +crude appeasements of crude desires,--all these were taken away, and thus +stripped it was easy to see how small was his responsibility in the matter +of life. He had crushed and injured this other human being, his wife, to +whom he had come nearest, just as a dirty hand might soil and crumple a +fine fabric. But she no longer reproached him, if she ever had; she +understood the sad complexity of a fate that had brought into the hand the +fabric to be tarnished. And what she could accept, others must, the world +must, to whom the Prestons are but annoyances and removable blemishes. + +Sommers felt the deaconlike attitude of the dentist, the conventional +solemnity of the schoolteacher and of the immobile Swede, the shaking, +quavering terror of Mrs. Ducharme, mumbling to herself the words of the +service. Why should the old woman be so upset, he wondered. But his vagrant +thoughts always came back to the woman near the coffin, the woman he loved. +How could she summon up such peace! Was hers one of those mighty souls that +never doubted? That steadfast gaze chilled his heart. + +"The resurrection of the dead." Her glance fell, and for one swift moment +rested on the dead man. She was debating those noble words, and denying +their hope to _him_, to such as were dead in this life. Then once more +her glance rose and fell upon Sommers, and swiftly it effaced his doubts. + +She was so beautiful, a woman in the full tide of human experience! And the +night before she had been so simple and tender and passionate. He felt her +arms about his heart, teaching him how to live. This moment, this careful +putting away of the past must be over soon, in a few hours; whereupon he +and she would cast it out of their hearts as they would leave this gloomy +cottage and waste marshes. He would not think of the body there and its +death, of anything but her. How exquisite would be this triumph, over her +baulked, defeated past! 'Alves, Alves,' he murmured in his heart, 'only you +who have suffered can love.' It seemed that an answering wave of color +swept over her pale face. + + * * * * * + +There was a movement. The service was ended. The burial was the only thing +that remained to be done. Sommers went to the cemetery with the minister +and Dr. Leonard. He did not wish to be with Alves until they could be +alone. The grave was in the half-finished cemetery beside the Cottage Grove +cable line, among the newest lots. It was a fit place for Preston, this bit +of sandy prairie in the incomplete city. The man who came and went from +town to town, knowing chiefly the hotel and the railroad station, might +well rest here, within call of the hoarse locomotives gliding restlessly to +and fro. + +As the little company retraced their steps from the grave, Alves spoke to +Sommers for the first time. + +"You will come back with me?" she asked. + +"Not now," he answered hastily, instinctively. "I must go back to town. The +others will be there. Not to-day." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +At the gate of the cemetery he fled from the little company. Dr. Leonard +wanted to return to the city with him, but he shook off the talkative +dentist. He must escape all sense of participation in the affair. So he +made the long journey in the cable train, thinking disconnectedly in unison +with the banging, jolting, grinding of the car. The panorama of his one +short year in Chicago rose bit by bit into his mind: the hospital, the +rich, bizarre town, the society of thirsty, struggling souls, always +rushing madly hither and thither, his love for the woman he had just left, +and this final distracting event. + +What if she had doubled the dose of the anodyne? Probably the fellow was +abusive. It might have been some shameful extremity that had forced upon +her this act in self-defence. But such a situation would have called for +violence, some swift blow. The man had died in insidious calm. He had +counselled it, believed in it. But not that _she_--the woman he +loved--should be brave with that desperate courage. Yet it was over now, +beyond sight and thought, and he loved her--yes, loved her more than if it +had not been so. + +Once in town, he felt intolerably lonely, as a busy man who has had his +round of little duties in a busy world soon comes to feel when any jar has +put him out of his usual course. As he sauntered among the strange faces of +the city streets, looking out for a familiar being, he began to realize how +completely he had cut himself off from the ordinary routine of life. He was +as much a stranger as if he had been dropped into the bustling crowd for +the first time. He had sat in judgment, and the world would give a fig for +his judgments. A week ago he might have taken refuge in a dozen houses. +To-night he stood upon street corners and wistfully eyed the passing +stream. + +He walked to the river aimlessly, and then walked back, examining the blank +faces of the people. He spied through the lowered window of a carriage +Brome Porter and Carson, going in the direction of the Northwestern +station. The carriage skirted the curb near him, but the occupants were +looking the other way. He recalled that Carson had been induced to leave +the famous portrait on exhibition at the Art Institute. Whenever in the +future he might care to refresh his mind with the vision of this epitome of +success, he had but to drop into the dusky building on the lake front and +have it all--with the comment of the great artist. + +As he moved on his restless course, he thought of Porter and Carson, of +Polot, and then of many others, whose faces came out of the memories of the +past year. How many of them were "good fellows," human and kind and strong! +They fought the world's fight, and fought it fairly. Could more be expected +of man? Could he be made to curb his passion for gain, to efface himself, +to refuse to take what his strong right hand had the power to grasp? +Perhaps the world was arranged merely to get the best out of strong +animals. + +He turned into a restaurant, where usually he could find a dozen people of +his acquaintance in the prosperous world. The place was crowded, but he +spied no one he had ever seen. Evidently the people who knew how to make +themselves comfortable had contrived to get out of this besieged city. They +were at the various country clubs, at Wheaton, Lake Forest, Lake Geneva, +Oconomowoc, keeping cool, while the general managers, the strikers, and the +troops fought out their differences. The menu was curtailed this evening. + +"'Twon't be long, sir," the waiter explained, "'fore we'll have to kill +them cab horses as they done in Paris. Game and fruit and milk can't be +had." + +But for the present the food was not of the famine order, and the noisy +crowd eat joyously, as if sure of enough, somehow, as long as they needed +it and had the money to pay. As Sommers was idling over his coffee, Swift, +a young fellow whom he had seen at the University Club, a college man +connected with one of the papers, sat down at his table, and chatted +busily. + +"They telephoned from the stock yards that there was a big mob down there," +he told Sommers. "I thought I'd go over and see if I couldn't get an extra +story out of it. Want to come along? It's about the last round of the +fight. The managers have got five thousand new men here already or on the +way. That will be the knock-out," he chatted briskly. + +Sommers drifted along to the scene of the riot with the reporter, happier +in finding himself with some one, no matter who he might be. Swift talked +about the prospects of ending the strike. He regarded it as a reportorial +feast, and had natural regrets that such good material for lurid paragraphs +was to be cut off. As they passed through the Levee, he nodded to the +proprietors of the "places," with ostentatious familiarity. From the Levee +they took an electric car, which was crowded with officers and deputies +bound for the stock yards. The long thoroughfare lined with rotting wooden +houses and squalid brick saloons was alive with people that swarmed over +the roadbed like insects. A sweltering, fetid air veiled the distances. +Like a filthy kettle, the place stewed in its heat and dirt. Here lived the +men who had engaged in the foolish fight! + +At a cross street the officers dropped off the car, and Swift and Sommers +followed them. + +"Where's the fun?" the reporter asked the sergeant. + +The officer pointed languidly toward a tangle of railroad tracks at one end +of the vast enclosure of the stock yards. They trudged on among the lines +of deserted cars in the fading glare of the July heat. The broad sides of +the packing houses, the lofty chimneys surrounded by thin grayish clouds, +the great warehouses of this slaughter yard of the world, drew nearer. All +at once a roar burst on their ears, and they came out from behind a line of +cars upon a stretch of track where a handful of soldiers were engaged in +pressing back a rabble of boys, women, and men. The rabble were teasing the +soldiers, as a mob of boys might tease a cat. Suddenly, as the officers and +deputies appeared, some one hurled a stone. In a moment the air was thick +with missiles, revolver shots followed, and then the handful of soldiers +formed in line with fixed bayonets. + +Sommers heard in the midst of all the roar the piteous bellowing of cattle, +penned up in the cars. He saw a dark form stealing around the end of a car; +in a moment a light spurted out as if a match had been touched to kerosene; +there was a gleam of light, and the stock-car with its load of cattle was +wrapped in flames. The dark figure disappeared among the cars; Sommers +followed it. The chase was long and hot. From time to time the fleeing man +dodged behind a car, applied his torch, and hurried on. At last Sommers +overtook him, kneeling down beside a box car, and pouring oil upon a bunch +of rags. Sommers kicked the can out of reach and seized the man by the +collar. They struggled in the dark for a few moments. Then the man put his +hand to his pocket, saying,-- + +"I suppose you're a damned, sneaking deputy." + +"Hold on, you drunken fool!" Sommers exclaimed. "It's lucky for you I am +not a deputy." + +He could hear the mob as it came down the yards in the direction of the +burning cars. + +"If you don't want to be locked up, come on with me." + +The fellow obeyed, and they walked down through the lane of cars until they +reached a fence. Sommers forced his companion through a gap, and followed +him. Then the man began to run, and at the corner ran into a file of +soldiers, who were coming into the yards. Sommers turned up the street and +walked rapidly in the direction of the city. The first drops of a +thunder-shower that had been lowering over the city for hours were falling, +and they brought a pleasant coolness into the sultry atmosphere. That was +the end! The "riot" would be drowned out in half an hour. + +The sense of overwhelming loneliness came back, and instinctively he turned +south in the direction of the cottage. From the loneliness of life, the +sultry squalor of the city, the abortive folly of the mob, he fled to the +one place that was still sweet in all this wilderness of men. + + * * * * * + +The cottage windows were dark when he arrived an hour later, but Alves met +him at the door. + +"I have been waiting for you," she said calmly. "I knew you would come as +soon as you could." + +"Didn't Miss M'Gann stay?" he asked remorsefully. + +"I sent her away with Dr. Leonard. And our old Ducharme has gone out to one +of her doctor's services. She is getting queerer and queerer, but such a +good soul! What should I have done without her! You sent her to me," she +added tenderly. + +They sat down by the open window within sound of the gentle, healing rain. +Sommers noticed that Alves had changed her dress from the black gown she +had worn in the afternoon to a colored summer dress. The room had been +rearranged, and all signs of the afternoon scene removed. It was as if she +willed to obliterate the past at once. How fast she lived! + +Her manner was peaceful. She sat resting her head against a high-backed +chair, and her arms, bare from the elbow, fell limply by her side. She +seemed tired, merely, and content to rest in the sense of sweet relief. + +"Alves," he cried, taking one of her hands and pressing the soft flesh in +his grip, "I could not stay away. I meant to--I did not mean to meet you +again here--but it was too lonely, too desolate everywhere." + +"Why not here and at once?" she asked, with a shade of wonder in her voice. +"Haven't we had all the sorrow here? And why should we put off our joy? It +is so great to be happy to the full for once." + +The very words seemed to have a savor for her. + +"Are you happy?" he asked curiously. + +"Why not! It's as if all that I could ever dream while I walked the hot +streets had come to me. It has come so fast that I cannot quite feel it +all. Some joy is standing outside, waiting its turn." + +Smilingly she turned her face to his for response. + +"What shall you do?" he asked. + +"Do? I can't think _now_. There is so much time to think of that." + +"But you can't stay here!" he exclaimed, with undue agitation. + +"Not if you dislike it. But I feel differently. I found this refuge, and it +served me well. I have no need to leave it." + +Sommers let her hand fall from his clasp, and rose to his feet. + +"You must! You cannot stay here after--" + +"As you wish. We will go away." + +"But until we are married?" + +"Married?" she repeated questioningly. "I hadn't thought of that." + +After a moment she said hesitatingly: + +"Do we have to be married? I mean have the ceremony, the oath, the rest of +it? I have been married. Now I want--love." + +"Why, it is only natural--" the man protested. + +"No, no, it is not natural. It may kill all this precious love. You may +come to hate me as I hated him, and then, then? No," she continued +passionately. "Let us not make a ceremony of this. It would be like the +other, and I should feel it so always. We will have love, just love, and +live so that it makes no difference. You cannot understand!" + +Sommers knelt beside her chair. + +"Love, love," he repeated. "You shall have it, Alves, as you will--the +delirium of love!" + +"That is right," she whispered, trembling at his touch. "Talk to me like +that. Only more, more. Make my ears ring with it. Your words are so weak!" + +"There are no words." + +"No, there is not one perfect one in all the thousands!" she uttered, with +a low cry. "And they are all alike--all used and common. But this,"--she +kissed him, drawing him closer to her beating heart. "This is you and all!" + +Thus she taught him the fire of love--so quickly, so surely! From the vague +boyish beatitude had sprung this passion, like the opulent blossom out of +the infolding bosom of the plant. Her kiss had dissipated his horrid +suspicions. Her lips were bond and oath and sacrament. + +That night they escaped the world with its fierce cross-purposes, its +checker-board scheme. The brutality of human success, the anguish of +strife,--what is it when man is shut within the chamber of his joy! Outside +the peaceful rain fell ceaselessly, quenching the flame and the smoke and +the passion of the city. + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"Next week Monday is the tenth," Alves announced, glancing at the calendar +that hung beside the writing-table. + +"Well?" Sommers answered. He was preparing to make the daily trip to the +post-office on the other side of Perota Lake. + +"The Chicago schools open this year on the tenth," Alves continued slowly. + +"What difference does that make?" + +For reply Alves took from the drawer of the table the old leather purse +that was their bank. The mute action made Sommers smile, but he opened the +purse and counted the bills. Then he shoved them back into the purse, and +replaced it in the drawer. + +"I don't know why I haven't heard about my horse," he mused. + +"That would only put the day off another month or two," Alves answered. "We +have had our day of play--eight long good weeks. The golden-rod has been +out for nearly a month, and the geese have started south. We saw a flock +yesterday, you remember." + +"But you aren't going back to the school!" Sommers protested. "Not to the +Everglade School." + +"I got the notices last week. They haven't discharged me! Why not?" she +added sanely. "You know that it will be hard to build up a practice. And +Miss M'Gann wrote me that we could get a good room at the Keystone. That +won't be too far from the school." + +"I had thought of returning to Marion, where my father practised," Sommers +suggested. "If we could only stay _here_, in this shanty three miles +from a biscuit!" + + +Alves smiled, and did not argue the point. They went to the shore where +their little flat-bottomed boat was drawn up. Perota Lake, on which the +tiny frame cottage stood, was a shallow, reedy pond, connecting by sluggish +brooks with a number of other lakes. The shore on this side of the lake was +a tangled thicket; the opposite shore rose in a gentle slope to fields of +sun-dried grain. The landscape was rich, peaceful, uneventful, with wide +spaces of sun and cloud and large broad Wisconsin fields. The fierce west +wind came cool and damp from the water. Sommers pulled out of the reedy +shore and headed for a neighboring lake. After rowing in silence for some +time, he rested on his oars. + +"Why couldn't we stay here? That is what I want to do--to keep out of the +city with its horrible clatter of ambitions, to return to the soil, and +live like the primitive peasant without ambition." + +The Wisconsin woman smiled sympathetically. She had grown strong and +firm-fleshed these summer weeks, sucking vitality from the warm soil. + +"The land is all owned around here!" she laughed. "And they use herb +doctors or homeopaths. No, we should starve in the midst of harvests. There +is only one thing to do, to go back where we can earn a bit of bread." + +Sommers started to row, but put down the oars again. + +"Do _you_ want to go back?" + +"I never think about it. It is so arranged," she answered simply. "Perhaps +it will not be always so." + +"Which means that we may be more fortunate than our neighbors?" + +"I don't know--why think? We have until Monday," and she leaned forward to +touch his hand. + +Why think! That is what she had taught him. They had sloughed off Chicago +at the first, and from the day they arrived at Perota they had sunk into a +gentle, solitary routine. Sommers had been content to smoke his pipe, to +ruminate on nothings, to be idle with no strenuous summoning of his will. +There had been no perplexity, no revolt, no decision. Even the storm of +their love subdued itself to a settled warmth, like that of the insistent +summer sun. They had little enough to do with, but they were not aware of +their poverty. Alves had had a long training in economy, and with the +innate capability of the Wisconsin farmer's daughter, adjusted their little +so neatly to their lives that they scarcely thought of unfulfilled wants. + +Now why, the man mused, must they break this? Why must they be forced back +into a world that they disliked, and that had no place for them? If he were +as capable as she, there would be no need. But society has discovered a +clever way of binding each man to his bench! While he brooded, Alves +watched the gentle hills, straw-colored with grain, and her eyes grew moist +at the pleasant sight. She glanced at him and smiled--the comprehending +smile of the mothers of men. + +"You would not want it always." + +They landed at the end of the lake; from there it was a short walk over the +dusty country road to the village. The cross-roads hamlet with its saloons +and post-office was still sleeping in midday lethargy. Alves pointed to the +unpainted, stuffy-looking houses. + +"You would not like this." + +At the post-office they met a young fellow wearing a cassock, a strangely +incongruous figure in the Wisconsin village. "Are you coming to vespers?" +the young priest asked. His brown, heavy face did not accord with the +clerical habit or with the thin clerical voice. + +"I think so--for the last time," Alves answered. + +"Guy Jones will be there. You remember Guy, Alves? He used to be quite +sweet on you in the old days when your brother was at the seminary." + +"Yes, I remember Guy," Alves answered hurriedly. She seemed conscious of +Sommers's bored gaze. The young priest accompanied them along the dusty +road. + +"Guy'll be glad to see you again. He's become quite a man out in Painted +Post, Nebraska--owns pretty much the whole place--" + +"We shall be at vespers," Alves repeated, interrupting the talkative young +man. + +When his cassock had disappeared up the dusty road between the fields of +corn, she added, + +"And that, too, you would not like, nor Guy Jones." + +After beaching the boat in front of the cottage they walked to the seminary +chapel by a little path through the meadows along the lake, then across a +wooded hill where the birds were singing multitudinously. The buildings of +the Perota Episcopal Seminary occupied the level plateau of a hill that lay +between two lakes. A broad avenue of elms and maples led to the rude stone +cloisters, one end of which was closed by the chapel. To Sommers the cheap +factory finish of the chapel and the ostentatious display of ritualism were +alike distasteful. The crude fervors of the boy priests were strangely out +of harmony with the environment. But Alves, to whom the place was full of +associations, liked the services. As they entered the cloisters, a tiny +bell was jangling, and the students were hurrying into the chapel, their +long cassocks lending a foreign air to the Wisconsin fields. Only one other +person was seated on the benches beneath the choir, a broad-faced young +American, whose keen black eyes rested upon Alves. She was absorbed in the +service, which was loudly intoned by the young priest. The candles, the +incense, the intoned familiar words, animated her. Sommers had often +wondered at the powerful influence this service exerted over her. To the +training received here as a child was due, perhaps, that blind wilfulness +of self-sacrifice which had first brought her to his notice. + +"The remission and absolution of sins--" Alves was breathing heavily, her +lips murmuring the mighty words after the priest. Was there a sore hidden +in her soul? Did she crave some supernatural pardon for a desperate deed? +The memory of miserable suspicions flashed over him, and gravely, sadly, he +watched the quivering face by his side. If she sought relief now in the +exercise of her old faith, what would come as the years passed and heaped +up the burden of remorse! + + * * * * * + +The service ended, and the three lay participants sauntered into the +graveyard outside the west door. The setting sun flooded the aisle of the +little chapel, even to the cross on the altar. The tones of the organ +rolled out into the warm afternoon. The young man approached Alves with +extended hand. + +"The boys told me I could find you here. It's real good to see you again. +Yes, I'm back to have a look at the old place. Wouldn't return to +_stay_ for worlds. It's a great place out there, where a man counts +for what he is. Won't you make me acquainted with your husband?" + +Sommers felt instinctively the hesitation in Alves's manner. She turned to +him, however. + +"Howard, this is my brother's old friend, Mr. Jones,--Dr. Sommers." + +The young man shook hands with great warmth, and joined them in their walk +home, talking rapidly all the way. When he left the cottage, he extended a +cordial invitation to Sommers to establish himself in Painted Post. "We +want a good, live, hustling doctor, one that is up in all the modern school +theories," he explained. + +After he had gone, they sat in silence, watching the deepening twilight in +the cool woods. The day, the season, the fair passion of life, seemed to +wane. Like the intimations of autumn that come in unknown ways, even in +August, surely in September, this accidental visitor brought the atmosphere +of change. + +"The struggle begins, then, next Monday," Sommers remarked at last. + +She kissed him for reply. + +To love, to forget unpleasant thoughts, to love again, to refrain from an +ignoble strife--alas! that it could not be thus for a lifetime. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The Keystone Hotel was in full blast when the doctor and Alves returned +from Wisconsin. Miss M'Gann met them and introduced them to the large, +parlor-floor room she had engaged for them. The newcomers joined the +household that was taking the air on the stone steps of the hotel. The step +below Miss M'Gann's was held by a young man who seemed to share with Miss +M'Gann the social leadership of the Keystone. He was with the Baking Powder +Trust, he told Sommers. He was tall and fair, with reddish hair that massed +itself above his forehead in a shiny curl, and was supplemented by a waving +auburn mustache. His scrupulous dress, in the fashion of the foppish clerk, +gave an air of distinction to the circle on the steps. Most of this circle +were so average as scarcely to make an impression at first sight,--a few +young women who earned their livelihood in business offices, a few decayed, +middle-aged bachelors, a group of widows whose incomes fitted the rates of +the Keystone, and several families that had given up the struggle with +maids-of-all-work. One of these latter,--father, mother, and daughter--had +seats at table with Sommers and Alves. The father, a little, bald-headed +man with the air of a furtive mouse, had nothing to say; the mother was a +faded blond woman, who shopped every day with the daughter; the daughter, +who was sixteen, had the figure of a woman of twenty, and the assurance +born in hotels and boarding-houses. Her puffy rounded face, set in a thick +roll of blond hair, had the expression of a precocious doll. When she had +sounded Alves on the subject of silk waists, she relapsed into silence and +stared amiably at the doctor. + +Sommers arranged to hang his little celluloid sign, _Howard Sommers, M. +D., Physician and Surgeon_, beneath his window. The proprietor of the +Keystone thought it gave a desirable, professional air to the house. But +Webber, the young man in the Baking Powder Trust, was sceptical of its +commercial value to the doctor. Certainly the results from its appearance +were not ascertainable. Sommers had no patients. The region about the +Keystone was a part of the World's Fair territory, and had been greatly +overbuilt. It had shrunk in these stagnant months to one-tenth of its +possible population. There was, besides, an army of doctors, at least one +for every five families Sommers judged from the signs. They were for the +most part graduates of little, unknown medical schools or of drug stores. +Lindsay had once said that this quarter of the city was a nest of +charlatans. The two or three physicians of the regular school had private +hospitals, sanitariums, or other means of improving their business. Many of +the doctors used the drug stores as offices and places of rendezvous. Their +signs hung, one below another, from a long crane at the entrances of the +stores. It was an impartial, hospitable method of advertising one's +services. There was one such bulletin at the shop on the corner of the +neighboring avenue; the names were unfamiliar and foreign,--Jelly, Zarnshi, +Pasko, Lemenueville. Sommers suspected that their owners had taken to +themselves _noms de guerre_. + +At first Sommers avoided these places, and got the few drugs he needed at a +well-known pharmacy in the city. He had an idea that matters would improve +when people returned from the country or the seashore. But these people did +not take long vacations. He had had but one case, the wife of a Swedish +janitor in a flat-building, and he had reason to believe that his services +had not pleased. Every morning, as Alves hurried to reach the Everglade +School, his self-reproach increased. He hated to think that she was in the +same treadmill in which he had found her. His failure was a matter of +pride, also; he began to suspect that the people in the house talked about +it. When Webber spoke to him of Dr. Jelly's success, he felt that the +Keystone people had been making comparisons. They were walking to the +railroad station after breakfast--the clerk on his way south to the baking +powder works; he, for a daily paper. The young clerk nodded to a +black-whiskered, sallow man, and said: + +"He's Doc. Jelly, and has the biggest practice around here. He's thick with +the drug-store people,--has an interest in it, I have heard. I haven't seen +your sign over there. Why don't you hang it out?" + +Sommers did not like to say that it was in bad professional form. After he +had left the friendly clerk, however, he walked over to the drug store and +made some inquiries in a general way. The place was a shameful pretence of +a prescription pharmacy. Cigars, toilet articles, and an immense soda-water +fountain took up three-fourths of the floor space. A few dusty bottles were +ranged on some varnished oak shelves; there was also a little closet at one +side, where the blotchy-faced young clerk retired to compound +prescriptions. The clerk hailed him affably, calling him by his name. He +seemed to know that Sommers used up-town pharmacies and had no practice; +and he, too, good-naturedly offered his advice. + +"Goin' to settle in the neighborhood? Shall be glad to have your slab to +add to the collection." He pointed jocularly to the filigree-work of signs +that were pendent above the door. + +"Well, I am not settled yet," Sommers replied, as easily as he could. + +"Mostly homeopaths hereabouts," the clerk went on, rolling out a handful of +cigars for a purchaser to make his selection. "Makes no difference, I say; +any one with a diploma is welcome to hang out and try his chances with the +rest. But all these"--he waved the hand which held the cigars at the +signs--"are fine men. They do a rushin' business." + +Sommers left the shop; he was not quite ready to do a "rushin' business" +and to advertise for it from the corner drug store. As he retreated the +clerk looked at him with a cynical smile. In the clerk's vernacular, he +wasn't "in the push," not "the popular choice." + +These days Sommers had so little to do that he could meet Alves at the +close of the afternoon session. At first he had gone to the Everglade +School and waited while the pupils bustled out. He disliked seeing her in +the performance of her petty duties, giving commands and reproofs. The +principal and the teachers stared at them when they walked away from the +school, and he gathered that his appearance there was embarrassing to +Alves. So they came to have a rendezvous at the rear of a vacant lot not +far from the deserted cottage, which lifted its ill-favored roof above the +scrub oaks. Then they would traverse the familiar walks in and out of the +deserted streets. + +When he told her of his conversation with Webber and the drug clerk's +remarks, she counselled unexpectedly: + +"Why don't you do it? Miss M'Gann says they all do it in Chicago,--that is, +the doctors who aren't swells." + +He smiled sadly at the idea that his holding aloof from this advertising +custom might be set down to his ambition of being a "swell doctor." The +method, however, seemed entirely proper to Alves, who hadn't the +professional prejudices, and whose experience with the world had taught her +to make the fight in any possible way, in any vulgar way that custom had +pointed out. + +"Well, if you want me to," he conceded drearily. + +"It isn't a great matter," she replied. "I don't _want_ you to do +anything that you don't feel like doing. Only," she sighed, "there's so +much opposition to married women's teaching, and we must live somehow." + +"I'll do it to-morrow," Sommers replied quickly, stung by the unintentional +implication of the speech. + +They walked to their favorite haunt on the lake shore, beneath the +crumbling walls of the little convent. During these hot September days this +spot had become the brightest place in their lives. They had come there to +find themselves, to avoid the world. They had talked and planned, had been +silent, had loved, and had rested. Today they watched the fiery sun sinking +in its bed of shining dust, and did not speak. Alves was unusually weary, +and he was sad over the decision he had just made, weakly, it seemed to +him. A good deal of the importance of his revolt against commercial +medicine disappeared. Lindsay tried oily, obsequious means of attracting +attention. He was to hang his sign from a corner store. Some dim idea of +the terrible spectre that haunts the days and nights of those without +capital or position confronted him. If he had never been rich, he had +always the means to give him time to look about, to select from a number of +opportunities. If he could manage to wait, even six months, some hospital +place might turn up. His old associates at Philadelphia would have him in +mind. He did not dare to write them of his necessity; even his friends +would be suspicious of his failure to gain a foothold in this hospitable, +liberal metropolis. + +He rose at last to escape these gloomy thoughts. Alves followed him without +a word. He did not offer her his arm, as he was wont to do when they walked +out here beyond the paths where people came. She respected his mood, and +falling a step behind, followed the winding road that led around the ruined +Court of Honor to the esplanade. As they gained the road by a little +footpath in the sandy bank, a victoria approached them. The young woman who +occupied it glanced hastily at Sommers and half bowed, but he had turned +back to give Alves his hand. The carriage drove on past them, then stopped. + +"That lady wishes to speak to you," Alves said. + +"I think not," Sommers replied quickly, turning in the opposite direction. +As they walked away the carriage started, and when Alves looked around it +had already passed over the rough wooden bridge that crossed the lagoon. + +"Was it some one you knew?" she asked indifferently. + +"It was Miss Hitchcock," Sommers replied shortly. He told her something +about the Hitchcocks. "She was the first woman I knew in Chicago," he +concluded musingly. Alves looked at him with troubled eyes, and then was +silent. Territories unknown in her experience were beginning to reveal +themselves in the world of this man. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The next day Sommers applied at the drug store for permission to hang his +sign beneath the others. The question was referred to Jelly, who seemed to +be the silent partner in the business, and in a few days consent was given. +The little iron sign with gilt letters shone with startling freshness +beneath the larger ones above. But no immediate results were visible. +Sommers dropped into the store as nonchalantly as he could almost daily, +but there were no calls for him. He met Jelly, who looked him over coldly, +while he lopped over the glass show-case and smoked a bad cigar. Sommers +thought he detected a malicious grin on the clerk's face when Jelly +questioned him one day about his practice. The successful physician seemed +to sum him up in a final speech. + +"What people want hereabouts is a practical, smart man. They don't take +much stock in schools or training; it's the _man_ they want." + +Leaving the clear impression that the young doctor was not the man for +their money, he grasped his black bag and lounged out of the door, puffing +at his cigar and spitting as he went. The Keystone, also, did not find +Sommers the man they could rely upon. When the overfed daughter of the +family at his table was taken ill with a gastric fever, the anxious mamma +sent for Jelly. Webber took this occasion to give him advice. Apparently +his case was exciting sympathy in the hotel,--at least Miss M'Gann and the +clerk had consulted about it. + +"You don't get acquainted with the folks," Webber explained. "You go and +shut yourself up in your room after every meal, instead of talking to +people and being sociable like the rest of us. And you haven't formed any +church connection. That helps a man, especially in your profession. You +ought to get connected with a good church, and go to the meetings and +church sociables. Join the young people's clubs and make yourself +agreeable. It don't make any difference how much you know in this world. +What people want is a good, open-hearted fellow, who meets 'em easily and +keeps in sight." + +'In different circles, different customs,' thought Sommers. 'Lindsay +frequents dinners, and I must attend church sociables!' + +"You and Mrs. Sommers hold yourselves apart," Webber went on with friendly +warmth, "as if you were too good for ordinary company. Now I know you don't +really think so at all. As soon as you break the ice, you will be all +right. There was Lemenueville. He started in here the right way, took to +the Presbyterian church, the fashionable one on Parkside Avenue, and made +himself agreeable. He's built up a splendid practice, right there in that +congregation!" + +"Are there any good churches left?" Sommers inquired. + +"Well, I shouldn't be bashful about cutting into the Presbyterian. You're +as good as Lemenueville." + +Decidedly, Sommers thought, this simple society had its own social habits. +If he did not take this well-meant advice, he must justify himself by his +own method. He made up his mind to go to the next meeting of the medical +society. His clothes were a trifle shabby, but as the meeting was in the +evening, he could go in his evening dress--drop in casually, as it were, +from an evening entertainment. That silly bit of pride, however, angered +him with himself. He went in his shabby everyday suit. The experience was +the most uncomfortable one he had had. The little groups of young doctors +did not open to him. They had almost forgotten him. Even his old colleagues +at the hospital scarcely recognized him, and when they did stop to chat +after the meeting, they examined him indifferently, as if they were making +notes. Lindsay had probably spread his story, with some imaginative +details. According to the popular tale Sommers had been "thrown down" by +Miss Hitchcock because he had mixed himself up with a married woman. Then +he had been discharged by Lindsay for the same reason, and had sunk, had +run away with the woman, and had come back to Chicago penniless. The woman +was supporting him, some one said. Enough of this pretty tale could be read +in the bearing of the men to make Sommers sorry that he had come, and +sorrier that he had come in the hope of bettering his condition. He slipped +out unobserved and walked the six miles back to the Keystone. + +The fight was on; he was placed, as he had wished, without handicap; he +closed his jaws and summoned all his will to take the consequences. The +pity was that he had brought himself to make any concessions to the +obsequiousness of the world. As he passed down Michigan Avenue he overtook +a shabby laboring man, who begged of him. Sommers found out that he was a +striker, a fireman on the Illinois Central, who had lost his job by being +blacklisted after the strike. He had walked the streets since the middle of +July. + +"You were a fool," Sommers remarked calmly, "to think that you and yours +could make any impression on the General Managers' Association. You have +had your lesson, and the next time you find yourself hanging on to the +world, no matter how, don't kick over the traces. There's a quarter. It's +more than I can afford to give, and I think you're a fool." + +The man hesitated. + +"I don't want none of your money," he growled at last. "If you had to work +for a living, you silk stocking--" + +"Come, don't call me names. I am a fool, too. I am in the same boat. I'd +give a good deal for a job, any job to earn my living. I didn't say it +wasn't natural what you did, but it's against the facts, against the +facts." + +The man stared, took the quarter, and dived into a cross street. + +"I have lost twenty cents by walking home," Sommers reported to Alves, "but +I have realized--a few facts." + +The following day, as Sommers was passing the drug store, the clerk +beckoned to him. A messenger had just come, asking for immediate help. A +woman was very ill--third house north on Parkside Avenue. + +"There's your chance," the clerk grinned. "They're rich and Jelly's people. +He won't be back before two. Just show Dr. Sommers the way," he added, to +the servant who had brought the message. + +Sommers had his doubts about going, for Jelly was an "eclectic" and +probably would refuse to consult with him. The matter seemed urgent, +however, and he followed the servant. The case, he found on examination, +was serious and at a critical stage. It was an affair of mismanaged +confinement. Jelly, Sommers could see, was brutally ignorant. The woman, if +she survived, would probably be an invalid for life. He did what he could +and remained in the house, waiting for Jelly, who would be sure to come. +About three the black-whiskered doctor arrived and hurried upstairs, his +sallow face scowling. Sommers explained what he had done, and suggested +that a certain operation was necessary at once to save matters at all. +Jelly interrupted him. + +"See here, young feller, this is my case, and you're not wanted, nor your +advice. You can send your bill to me." + +Sommers knew that he should bow and withdraw. Jelly was within his +professional rights, but the man's brutal ignorance maddened him, and he +spoke recklessly. + +"A first-year interne could tell you the same thing. The woman has been +nearly killed, if you want to know the truth. And I don't know that I shall +leave you to complete the job." + +"What are you going to do about it?" Jelly asked insolently. + +Sommers paused. He was clearly in the wrong, professionally. There was not +a well-trained doctor in Chicago who would abet him in his act. But it +mattered little; his own desperate situation gave him a kind of freedom. + + +"I shall present the facts to her husband." He found the husband in the +room below and stated the case. + +"What I am doing," he concluded, "is entirely unprofessional, but it's the +thing I should want any man to do for me. You needn't take my word, but +call up either Dr. Fitz or Dr. Sloper by telephone, and ask one of them to +come out at once. They are the best surgeons in the city. As to Dr. Jelly, +I prefer not to say anything, and I don't expect you to take my advice." + +The husband was anxious and worried. All doctors seemed to him a game of +chance. + +"She's always hankered after the Science people; but she kind of took to +Jelly, and our friends think an awful sight of him," he remarked +doubtfully. + +"You are taking tremendous risks," Sommers urged. + +"Well, I'll see Jelly." + +Sommers waited until the man returned. + +"Well, I guess it isn't so bad as you think. We'll wait a day or two, I +guess. I am obliged to you for your kindness." + +Sommers made no reply and left the house. The only result of this affair +was that he found it disagreeable to call at the drug store. Besides, it +was useless; no practice had come from his assiduous attendance. Finally, +he saw one morning that his modest sign no longer waved from the pendent +ladder. He did not take the trouble to inquire why it had been removed. + + * * * * * + +The winter was wearing on,--the slow, penurious winter of exhaustion after +the acute fury of the spring and summer. These were hard times in earnest, +not with the excitement of failures and bankruptcies, but with the steady +grind of low wages, no employment, and general depression. The papers said +things would be better in the fall, when the republican candidates would be +elected. But it was a long time to wait for activity. Meanwhile the streets +down town were filled with hungry forms, the remnant of the World's Fair +mob swelled by the unemployed strikers. The city was poor, too. The school +funds were inadequate. The usual increase in salary could not be paid. +Instead, the board resolved to reduce the pay of the grade teachers, who +had the lowest wages. Alves received but forty dollars a month now, and had +been refused a night school for which she had applied. + +When Alves timidly suggested that it would be cheaper for them to rent one +of the many empty cottages in the vast region south of the parks, he put +her off. That would be too much like the experience in the Ninety-first +Street cottage, and he fought against the idea. There were a few dollars +still left from the sale of his horse, his microscope, and other +possessions. A few dollars each week came in from some work he had found in +preparing plates for a professor of anatomy in the new university. Some +weeks he could almost pay his board without drawing from his capital. They +would hang on in this way. + +Not that the Keystone Hotel was in itself very attractive. In spite of +Webber's advice, he and Alves found it hard to mix with the other "guests." +After they had been in the house several months, he fancied that the people +avoided them. The harmless trio left their table, and in place of them came +a succession of transient boarders. For a time he thought he was +oversensitive, inclined to suspect his neighbors of avoiding him. But one +evening Alves came into their room, where he was working at the anatomy +plates, her face flushed with an unusual distress. + +"What reason have they?" Sommers asked, going directly to the heart of the +matter. + +"None--unless Miss M'Gann has been talking carelessly. And she knows +nothing--" + +"No, she knows nothing," the doctor replied, looking at Alves intently. +"And there is nothing to be known." + +"We think not!" she exclaimed. "I am not so sure that an unpleasant story +couldn't be made." + +"What do you mean?" he asked sharply. + +"Why, the--my husband's condition--the death, our going away so quickly +afterward. There are elements there of a good-sized boarding-house +scandal." + +"Yes, there are elements!" Sommers admitted, putting away his work. "We may +as well leave as soon as we can. You are right; we had better fight it out +alone." + +"Yes, _alone_," she responded, with a glad note in her voice. + +The next afternoon they looked at the cheap, flimsy cottages they passed in +their walk with more interest than ever. The only places they could afford +were far removed from the populous districts where patients live. They +would have to pay for heat, too, and though they could starve the body, +they could not freeze. So the matter was put off for the present, and they +drew into themselves more and more, leaving the Keystone people to chatter +as they willed. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The great strike was fast being forgotten, as a cause argued and lost or +won as you looked at it. A commission was holding many meetings these +months, and going over the debris, taking voluminous testimony. It was said +to be prejudiced in favor of the strikers, but the victors cared little. +Its findings in the shape of a report would lie on the table in the halls +of Congress, neither house being so constituted that it could make any +political capital by taking the matter up. The Association of General +Managers had lapsed. It had been the banded association of power against +the banded association of labor. It had fought successfully. The issue was +proved: the strike was crushed, with the help of marshals, city police, and +troops. And with it the victors prophesied was crushed the sympathetic +strike forever. It had cost, to be sure, many millions in all, but it paid. +It was such a tremendous example! + +The statistical side of passion was interesting and ironical. It gave the +matter the air of a family row: the next day the heads of the factions were +sitting down to make the inventory of broken glass, ruined furniture and +provisions. A principle had been preserved, people said, talking largely +and superficially, but the principle seemed elusive. The laborers, too, had +lost, more heavily in proportion to their ability to bear--millions in +wages, not to reckon the loss of manhood to those who were blacklisted for +participation in the fracas. + +The Commission went into the Pullman affair, quite unwarrantedly, according +to the corporation, which was comfortably out of the mess. And there were +minor disputes over the injunctions against Debs, and a languid stirring of +dead bones in the newspapers. Every one was tired of the affair and willing +to let it drop, with its lesson for this party or that. Sommers, having +nothing more urgent to do, attended the meetings of the Commission and +listened eagerly to get some final truth about the matter. But it seemed to +him that both sides merely scratched the surface of the argument, and were +content with the superficial "lessons" thereby gained. What good could come +of the hearings? The country would get out of its doldrums sooner or later; +employment would be easy to find; wages would rise, a little; every one +would have his bellyful; and then, some years later, another wave of +depression would set in, the bitter strife would be repeated, both parties +unlessoned by this or any other experience. The world, at least this +civilization, belonged to the strong; the poor would remain weak and +foolish and treacherous. + +It was whispered about on the first days of the hearing that an official of +the American Railway Union would take the stand and make disclosures. He +would show how the strike was finally ended, not by the law and the sword, +but by money. The official's name was Dresser, Sommers heard, and every day +he looked for him to take the stand. But the rumor passed away, and no +"revelations" by Dresser or any one else who knew the inner facts appeared. +Sommers learned them unexpectedly after the Commission had taken itself to +Washington to prepare its report. + +It happened one evening at the Keystone Hotel. He had come in after dinner +and found Miss M'Gann in his room, calling upon Alves. She had brought +Dresser with her. He was well dressed, his hair was cut to a conventional +length, and he carried a silk hat--altogether a different person from the +slouchy, beery man who had grumbled at McNamara and Hills. Sommers's glance +must have said something of this, for Dresser began to explain, + +"I've given up agitating--doesn't go, what with the courts granting +injunctions and the railroads throwing money about." + +"Do you mean _that_ was why the strike collapsed?" Sommers asked +eagerly. + +"Sure!" Dresser thundered heartily. "_I_ KNOW IT. Do you know where +the leaders are? Well, one of 'em has got the finest little ranch you ever +saw out in Montana. And another," he winked slowly and put his hand to his +pocket. "They were poor men when the strike began, and they aren't working +now for any dollar and a half a day." + +"I don't believe it," Sommers replied promptly. "The managers had the +affair in hand, anyway." + +Dresser protested loudly, and irritated by the doctor's scepticism began to +leak, to tell things he had seen, to show a little of the inside of the +labor counsels. He had evidently seen more than Sommers had believed +possible, and his active, ferreting mind had imagined still more. The two +women listened open-mouthed to his story of the strike, and feeling where +the sympathy lay Dresser spoke largely to them. + +"You seem to have found something to do?" Sommers remarked significantly at +the close. + +"I'm assistant editor of a paper," Dresser explained. + +Sommers laughed. "Herr Most's old sheet?" + +"_The Investor's Monthly_." + +Sommers shrieked with laughter, and patted Dresser on the back. "Sammy, +you're a great man! I have never done you justice." + +"The management has been changed," Dresser said gruffly. "They wanted a man +of education, not a mere reporter." + +"Who owns it?" + +"R. G. Carson has the controlling interest." + +Sommers relapsed into laughter. "So this is your ranch in Montana?" + +Dresser rose with an offended air. + +"Oh! sit down, man. I am complimenting you. Haven't you a place as office +boy, compositor, or something for a needy friend?" + +"I don't see what you're so funny about, doctor," Miss M'Gann expostulated. + +"Spoiling the Philistines, you see," Dresser added, making an effort to +chime in with Sommers's irony. + +They talked late. Webber, the stylish young clerk, dropped in, and the +conversation roamed over the universal topics of the day,--the hard times, +the position of the employee in a corporation, etc. The clerk in the Baking +Powder Trust was inclined to philosophical acceptance of present +conditions. Abstractly there might not be much justice for the poor, but +here in the new part of the country every man had his chance to be on top, +to become a capitalist. There was the manager of the B. P. T. He had begun +on ten dollars a week, but he had bided his time, bought stock in the +little mill where he started, and now that the consolidation was arranged, +he was in a fair way to become a rich man. To be rich, to have put yourself +outside the ranks of the precarious classes--that was the clerk's ambition. +Dresser was doubtful whether the good, energetic young clerk could repeat +in these days the experience of the manager of the B. P. T. The two women +took part in the argument, and finally Alves summed the matter up: + +"If we could, all of us would be rich, and then we should feel like the +rich, and want to keep what we could. But as we have to labor hard for a +little joy, it's best to get the joy, as much as you can, and not fret over +the work." + + * * * * * + +Dresser found the Keystone so agreeable that he came there to live. The +doctor and Alves and Miss M'Gann with Webber and Dresser had a table to +themselves in the stuffy basement dining room. Miss M'Gann accepted +impartially the advances of both young men, attending church with one and +the theatre with the other. The five spent many evenings in Sommers's room, +discussing aimlessly social questions, while the doctor worked at the +anatomy slides. Dresser's debauch of revolt seemed to have sobered him. He +bought himself many new clothes, and as time went on, picked up social +relations in different parts of the city. He still talked sentimental +socialism, chiefly for the benefit of Alves, who regarded him as an +authority on economic questions, and whose instinctive sympathies were +touched by his theories. As the clothes became more numerous and better in +quality, he talked less about socialism and more about society. _The +Investor's Monthly_ interested him: he spoke of becoming its managing +editor, hinting at his influence with Carson; and when the doctor jeered, +Dresser offered him a position on the paper. Webber was openly envious of +Dresser's prosperity, which he set down to the account of a superior +education that had been denied him. When Dresser began to mention casually +the names of people whom the Baking Powder clerk had read about in the +newspapers, this envy increased. Dresser's evolution impressed Miss M'Gann +also; Sommers noticed that she was readier to accept Dresser's +condescending attentions than the devotion of the plodding clerk. Webber +was simple and vulgar, but he was sincere and good-hearted. He was striving +to get together a little money for a home. Sommers told Alves that she +should influence Miss M'Gann to accept the clerk, instead of beguiling +herself with the words of a talker. + +"You are unfair to Sammy," Alves had replied, with some warmth. "She would +do very well to marry him; he is her superior." + +Sommers gave Alves a look that troubled her, and said: + +"Because the fellow is settling into an amiable Philistine? He will never +marry Jane M'Gann; it would hurt his prospects." + +A few days later Dresser mentioned that he had met Miss Laura Lindsay, "the +daughter of your former partner, I believe." + +"My former boss," Sommers corrected, looking at Alves with an amused smile. +He listened in ironical glee to Dresser's description of little Laura +Lindsay. Dresser thought her "a very advanced young woman, who had ideas, a +wide reader." She had asked him about Dr. Sommers and Alves. + +"You had better not appear too intimate with us," Sommers advised. "Her +papa doesn't exactly approve of me." + +When he had left the room, Sommers added: "He will marry Laura Lindsay. An +ideal match. He won't remain long in the Keystone, and I am glad of it. The +converted Philistine is the worst type!" + +Alves held her own opinion. She should be sorry to lose Dresser from their +little circle. She permitted herself one remark,--"He is so much of a +gentleman." + +"A gentleman!" Sommers exclaimed scornfully. "Are any of us gentlemen in +the American sense?" + +It seemed probable, however, that Sommers and Alves would be the first to +leave the Keystone. Although the sultry June weather made them think +longingly of the idyllic days at Perota Lake, the journey to Wisconsin was +out of the question. Struggle as he might, Sommers was being forced to +realize that they must give up their modest position in the Keystone. And +one day the proprietor hinted broadly that she had other uses for their +room. They had been tolerated up to this point; but society, even the +Keystone form of society, found them too irregular for permanent +acceptance. And now it was impossible to move away from Chicago. They had +no money for the venture. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +A change, even so small a change as from one boarding-house to another, is +caused by some definite force, some shock that overcomes the power of +inertia. The eleventh of June Sommers had gone to meet Alves at their usual +rendezvous in the thicket at the rear of Blue Grass Avenue. The sultry +afternoon had made him drowse, and when he awoke Alves was standing over +him, her hands tightening nervously. + +"They have dropped you," he said, reading the news in her face. + +She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, until they had plodded down the +avenue for several blocks. + +"Why did they do it!" she murmured rebelliously. "They gave me no reason. +It isn't because I teach badly. It isn't because of the married teachers' +talk: there are hundreds of married women in the schools who haven't been +dismissed." + +"Well," Sommers responded soothingly, "I shouldn't hunt for a rational +reason for their act. They have merely hastened the step we were going to +take some day." + +"What shall we do!" she gasped, overpowered by the visions her practical +mind conjured up. "We could just get along with my forty dollars, and +now--Oh! I've been like a weight about your neck. I have cut you off from +your world, the big world where successes are made!" + +Her large eyes filled with pleading tears. She was generously minded to +take the burden of their fate upon herself. + + +"You seem to have been making most of the success," he responded lightly. +"The big world where Dresser is succeeding doesn't call me very hard. And +it's a pretty bad thing if a sound-bodied, well-educated doctor can't +support himself and a woman in this world," he added more gloomily. "I +_will_, if I have to get a job over there." + +He jerked his head in the direction of the South Chicago steel works. But +the heavens seemed to repel his boast, for the usual cloud of smoke and +flame that hung night and day above the blast furnaces was replaced by a +brilliant, hard blue sky. The works were shut down. They had reached the +end of Blue Grass Avenue at the south line of the park. It was a spot of +semi-sylvan wildness that they were fond of. The carefully platted avenues +and streets were mere lines in the rough turf. A little runnel of water, +half ditch, half sewer, flowed beside the old plank walk. + +They sat down to plan, to contrive in some way to get a shelter over their +heads. From the plank walk where they sat nothing was visible for blocks +around except a little stucco Grecian temple, one of those decorative +contrivances that served as ticket booths or soda-water booths at the +World's Fair. This one, larger and more pretentious than its fellows, had +been bought by some speculator, wheeled outside the park, and dumped on a +sandy knoll in this empty lot. It had an ambitious little portico with a +cluster of columns. One of them was torn open, revealing the simple anatomy +of its construction. The temple looked as if it might contain two rooms of +generous size. Strange little product of some western architect's +remembering pencil, it brought an air of distant shores and times, standing +here in the waste of the prairie, above the bright blue waters of the lake! + +"That's the place for us!" Sommers exclaimed, gazing intently at the +time-stained temple. Alves looked at the building sceptically, for +woman-wise she conceived of only conventional abiding-places. But she +followed him submissively into the little stucco portico, and when he spoke +buoyantly of the possibilities of the place, of the superb view of park and +lake, her worn face gained color once more. The imitation bronze doors were +ajar, and they made a thorough examination of the interior. With a few +laths, some canvas, and a good cleaning, the place could be made +possible--for the summer. + +"That's four months," Sommers remarked. "And that is a long time for poor +people to look ahead." + +The same evening they hunted up the owner and made their terms, and the +next day prepared to move from the Keystone. They had some regrets over +leaving the Keystone Hotel. The last month Sommers had had one or two +cases. The episode with Dr. Jelly had finally redounded to his credit, for +the woman had died at Jelly's private hospital, and the nurse who had +overheard the dispute between the two doctors had gossiped. The first +swallow of success, however, was not enough to warrant any expenditure for +office rent. He must make some arrangement with a drug store near the +temple, where he could receive calls. + +They invited Miss M'Gann, Webber, and Dresser to take supper with them +their first Sunday in the temple. Alves had arranged a little kitchen in +one corner of the smaller of the two rooms. This room received the pompous +name of "the laboratory"; the other room--a kind of hall into which the +portico opened--was bedroom and general living room. + +"We will throw open the temple doors," she explained to Sommers, "and have +supper on the portico between the pillars." + +From that point the lake could be seen, a steely blue line on the horizon. +But it rained on Sunday, and the visitors arrived so bedraggled by the +storm that their feast seemed doomed. Sommers produced a bottle of Scotch +whiskey, and they warmed and cheered themselves. The Baking Powder clerk +grew loquacious first. The Baking Powder Trust was to be reorganized, he +told them, as soon as good times came. There was to be a new trust, twice +as big as the present one, capitalized for millions and millions. The +chemist of the concern had told him that Carson was engineering the affair. +The stock of the present company would be worth double, perhaps three times +as much as at present. He confided the fact that he had put all his savings +into the stock of the present company at its greatly depressed present +value. The company was not paying dividends; he had bought at forty. His +air of financial success, of shrewd speculative insight impressed them all. +Miss M'Gann evidently knew all about this; she smiled as if the world were +a pretty good place. + +Dresser, too, had his boast. He had finally been given charge of _The +Investor's Monthly_, which had absorbed the _La Salle Street +Indicator_. The policy of the papers was to be changed: they were to be +conservative, but not critical, and conducted in the interests of capital +which was building up the country after its financial panic. + +"In the prospective return of good times many new interests will seek +public patronage," he explained to the company. "A new era will dawn--the +era of business combinations, of gigantic cooperative enterprises." + +"Vulgarly known as trusts," Sommers interjected. "And your paper is going +to boom Carson's companies. Well, well, that's pretty good for Debs's +ex-secretary!" + +"You must understand that people of education change their views," Dresser +retorted uncomfortably. "I have had a long talk with Mr. Carson about the +policy of the paper. He doesn't wish to interfere, not in the least, merely +advises on a general line of policy agreeable to him and his associates, +who, I may say, are very heavily engaged in Chicago enterprises. We are +interested at present in the traction companies which are seeking +extensions of their franchises." + +"He's joined the silk-hat brigade," Webber scoffed. "The Keystone ain't +good enough for him any longer. He's going north to be within call of his +friends." + +"How is Laura Lindsay?" Sommers asked. + +"I saw her last night, and I met Mr. Brome Porter and young Polot, too." + +"Did you tell 'em where you were going to-night?" Sommers asked, rather +bitterly. + +"Say, Howard," Dresser replied, pushing back his chair and resting one arm +confidentially on the table, "you must have been a great chump. You had a +soft thing of it at Lindsay's--" + +"I suppose Miss Laura has discussed it with you. I didn't like the set +quite as well as you seem to." + +"Well, it's no use making enemies, when you can have 'em for friends just +as easily as not," Dresser retorted, with an air of superior worldly +wisdom. + + * * * * * + +Miss M'Gann had drawn Alves out of the talk among the men, and they sat by +themselves on the lower step of the temple. + +"I saw Dr. Leonard the other day at a meeting of the Cymbals Society," Miss +M'Gann told Alves. "He asked where you were." + +"I hope he'll come to see us." + +Miss M'Gann looked at the men and lowered her voice. + +"I think he knows what was the reason for dismissing you. He wouldn't tell +me; but if I see him again, I am going to get it out of him." + +"Why, what did he say?" Alves asked. + +"Nothing much. Only he asked very particularly about you and the doctor; +about what kind of man the doctor was, and just when you were married and +where." + +Alves moved nervously. + +"Where were you married, Alves?" Miss M'Gann pursued anxiously. "Here or in +Wisconsin? You were so dreadfully queer about it all." + +"We were not married," Alves replied, in a quiet voice, "at least not in a +church, with a ceremony and all that. I didn't want it, and we didn't think +it necessary." + +The younger woman gasped. + +"Alves! I'd never think it of you--you two so quiet and so like ordinary +folks!" + +"We are like other people, only we aren't tied to each other by a halter. +He can go when he likes," Alves retorted. "I want him to go," she added +fiercely, "just as soon as he finds he doesn't love me enough." + +"Um," Miss M'Gann answered. "Lucky you haven't any children. That's where +the rub comes." + +Alves straightened herself with a little haughtiness. + +"It wouldn't make any difference to _him_. He would do right by them +if he had them." + +"I don't see how he could, at present," Miss M'Gann proceeded, with severe +logic. "It's all very well so long as things go easily. _But_ I had +rather have the ring." + +After a little silence, she continued: "It must have had something to do +with that, I guess, your being dropped. Did any one know?" + +"I never said anything about it," Alves replied coldly. She would have +liked to add an entreaty, for his sake, that Miss M'Gann keep this secret. +But her pride prevented her. + +"That Ducharme woman must have been talking," Miss M'Gann proceeded +acutely. "I saw her around last year, looking seedy, as if she drank." + +"Possibly," Alves assented, "though she didn't know anything." + +"Well, my advice to you is to make that right just as soon as ever you can. +He's willing?" + +"I should never let him," Alves exclaimed vehemently; "least of all now!" + +"Well, I suppose folks must live their own way. But you don't catch me +taking a man in that easy fashion, so that he can get out when he wants +to." + +Alves tried to change the subject, but her admission had so startled her +friend that the usual gossip was impossible. When the visitors rose to go, +Sommers proposed showing them the way back by a wagon road that led to the +improved part of the park, across the deserted Court of Honor. He and Alves +accompanied them as far as the northern limits of the park. The rain clouds +were gone, and a cold, clear sky had taken their place. On their return +along the esplanade beside the lake Sommers chatted in an easy frame of +mind. + +"I guess Webber will get Miss M'Gann, and I am glad of it. Dresser wouldn't +do anything more than fool with her. He will get on now; those promoters +and capitalists are finding him a clever tool. They will keep him steady. +It isn't the fear of the Lord that will keep men like Dresser in line; it's +the fear of their neighbors' opinions and of an empty stomach!" + +"Don't you--wish you had a chance like his?" Alves asked timidly. + +The young doctor laughed aloud. + +"You don't know me yet. It isn't that I don't want to. It's because I +_can't_--no glory to me. But, Alves, we are all right. I can get +enough in one way or another to keep the temple over our heads, and I can +work now. I have something in view; it won't be just chasing about the +streets." + +This reference to his own work both pleased and saddened her. The +biologist, who had befriended him before, had given him some work in his +laboratory. The work was not well paid, but the association with the +students, which aroused his intellectual appetites, had given him a new +spur. What saddened her was that it was all entirely beyond her sphere of +influence, of usefulness to him. Living, as they should, in an almost +savage isolation, she dreaded his absorption in anything apart from her. +There were other reliefs, consolations, and hopes than those she held. He +was slipping away into a silent region--man's peculiar world--of thought +and dream and speculation, an intangible, ideal, remote, unloving world. +Some day she would knock at his heart and find it occupied. + +She leaned heavily upon his arm, loath to have his footsteps so firm, his +head so erect, his eyes so far away, his voice so silent. + +"You are not sorry," she murmured, ashamed of iterating this foolish +question, that demanded one answer--an answer never wholly satisfying. + +"For what?" he asked, interrupting his thought and glancing out into the +black waters. + +"For me--for all this fight for life alone away from the people who are +succeeding, for grinding along unrecognized--" + +He stopped and kissed her gently, striving to quiet her excited mood. + +"For if you did, I would put myself _there_, in the water beside the +piers," she cried. + +He smiled at her passionate threat, as at the words of an emotional child. +Underneath his gentleness, his kindness, his loving ways, she felt this +trace of scepticism. He did not bother his head with what was beginning to +wring her soul. In a few minutes she spoke again: + +"Miss M'Gann thinks Dr. Leonard knows why I was dismissed. Mrs. Ducharme, +she said, had been hanging about the Everglade School district. I remember +having seen her several times." + +Sommers dropped her arm and strode forward. + +"What did _she_ know?" he asked harshly. + +"I don't see how she could know anything except suspicions. You know she +was queer and a great talker." + +Sommers's face worked. He was about to speak when Alves went on. + +"I told Jane we had never been married; she asked me _where_ we were +married. I suppose I ought not to have told her. I didn't want to." + +"It is of no importance," Sommers answered. "It's our own business, anyway; +but it makes no difference as we live now whether she knows it or not." + +"I am glad you feel so," Alves replied with relief. Then in a few moments +she added, "I was afraid she might tell people; it might get to your old +friends." + +Sommers replied in the same even tone, + +"Well? and what can they do about it?" + +"I wonder what a woman like Miss Hitchcock thinks about such +matters,--about us, if she knew." + +"She would not think. She would avoid the matter as she would a case of +drunkenness." + +The arm within his trembled. She said nothing more until they reached the +little portico. She paused there, leaning against one of the crumbling +columns, looking out into the night. From the distance beyond the great +pier that stretched into the lake came the red glare of the lighthouse. + +Sommers had gone in and was preparing the room for the night. She could +hear him whistle as he walked to and fro, carrying out dishes, arranging +the chairs and tables. He maintained an even mood, took the accidents of +his fate as calmly as one could, and was always gentle. He had some well of +happiness hidden to her. She went in, took off her cloak, and prepared to +undress. His clothes, the nicety he preserved about personal matters, had +taught her much of him. Her clothes had always been common, of the +wholesale world; he had had his luxuries, his refinements, his individual +tastes. Gradually, as his more expensive clothes had worn out, he had +replaced them with machine-made articles of cheap manufacture. His +belongings were like hers now. She was bringing him a little closer to her +in such ways,--food and lodging and raiment. But not in thought and being. +Behind those deep-set eyes passed a world of thought, of conjecture and +theory and belief, that rarely expressed itself outwardly. + +She let down her hair and began to take off her plain, unlovely clothes. +Thus she approached the common human basis, the nakedness and simplicity of +life. Her eyes lingered thoughtfully on her body; she touched herself as +she unbuttoned, unlaced, cast aside the armor of convention and daily life. + +"Howard!" she cried imperiously. He stopped his whistling and looked at her +and smiled. + +"Do you like me, Howard?" She blushed at the childishness of her eager +question. But she demanded the expected answer with the insistence of +unsatisfied love. And when he failed to reply at the moment, surprised by +her mood, she knelt by his chair and grasped his knees. + +"Isn't it _all_ that you want, just the temple and me? Am I not enough +to make up for the world and success and pleasure? I can make you love, and +when you love you do not think." + +She rose and faced him with gleaming eyes, stretching out her bare arms, +deploying her whole woman's strength and beauty in mute appeal. + +"Why do you ask?" he demanded, troubled. + +"O Howard, you do not feel the mist that creeps in between us, though we +are close together. Sometimes I think you are farther away than even in the +old times, when I first saw you at the hospital. You think, think, and I +can't get at your thought. Why is it so?" + +He yielded to her entreating arms and eyes, as he had so often before in +like moments, when the need to put aside the consciousness of existence, of +the world as it appears, had come to one of them or both. Yet it seemed +that this love was like some potent spirit, whose irresistible power waned, +sank, each time demanding a larger draught of joy, a more delirious tension +of the nerves. + +"Nothing makes any difference," he answered. "I was born and lived for +this." + +She had charmed the evil mood, and for the time her heart was satisfied. + +But when she lay by his side at night her arm stole about his, as if to +clutch him, fearful lest in the empty reaches of sleep he might escape, +lest his errant man's thoughts and desires might abandon her for the usual +avenues of life. Long after he had fallen into the regular sleep of night, +she lay awake by his side, her eyes glittering with passion and defeat. +Even in these limits of life, when the whole world was banned, it seemed +impossible to hold undisturbed one's joy. In the loneliest island of the +human sea it would be thus--division and ultimate isolation. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The summer burned itself out, and the autumn winds pierced the rotten staff +walls of the temple. They were no nearer to moving into better quarters +than they had been in the spring. The days had come when there was little +food, and the last precarious dollar had been spent. They lived on the edge +of defeat, and such an existence to earnest people is sombre. + +Finally the tide turned. The manager of a large manufacturing plant in +Burnside, one of the little factory hamlets south of the city, asked +Sommers to take charge of an epidemic of typhoid that had broken out among +the operatives. The regular physician of the corporation had proved +incompetent, and the annual visitation of the disease threatened to be +unprecedented. Sommers spent his days and nights in Burnside for several +weeks. When he had time to think, he wondered why the manager employed him. +If the Hitchcocks had been in the city, he should have suspected that they +had a hand in the matter. But he remembered having seen in a newspaper some +months before that the Hitchcocks were leaving for Europe. He did not +trouble himself greatly, however, over the source of the gift, thankful +enough for the respite, and for the chance of renewed activity. When the +time for settlement came, the manager liberally increased the amount of the +doctor's modest bill. The check for three hundred dollars seemed a very +substantial bulwark against distress, and the promise of the company's +medical work after the new year was even more hopeful. Alves was eager to +move from the dilapidated temple to an apartment where Sommers could have a +suitable office. But Sommers objected, partly from prudential reasons, +partly from fear that unpleasant things might happen to Alves, should they +come again where people could talk. And then, to Alves's perplexity, he +developed strange ideas about money getting. + +"The physician should receive the very minimum of pay possible for his +existence," he told her once, when she talked of the increase in his +income. "He works in the dark, and he is in luck if he happens to do any +good. In waging his battle with mysterious nature, he only unfits himself +by seeking gain. In the same way, to a lesser degree, the law and the +ministry should not be gainful professions. When the question of personal +gain and advancement comes in, the frail human being succumbs to +selfishness, and then to error. Like the artist, the doctor, the lawyer, +the clergyman, the teacher should be content to minister to human needs. +The professions should be great monastic orders, reserved for those who +have the strength to renounce ease and luxury and power." + +The only tangible comfort that Alves derived from this unusually didactic +speech was the assurance that he would not be drawn away from her. She +bowed to his conception, and sought to help him. While he was attending the +cases in Burnside, she did some work as nurse. Beginning casually to help +on an urgent case, she went on to other cases, training herself, learning +to take his place wherever she could. She thought to come closer to him in +this way, but she suspected that he understood her motive, that her work +did not seem quite sincere to him. She was looking for payment in love. + +When she was not engaged in nursing, she was more often alone than she had +been the year before. The Keystone people visited the temple rarely. Miss +M'Gann seemed always a little constrained, when Alves met her, and Dresser +was living on the North Side. One December morning, when Alves was alone, +she noticed a carriage coming slowly down the unfinished avenue. It stopped +a little distance from the temple, and a woman got out. After giving the +coachman an order, she took the foot-path that Alves and Sommers had worn. +Alves came out to the portico to meet the stranger, who hastened her +leisurely pace on catching sight of a person in the temple. At the foot of +the rickety steps the stranger stopped. + +"You are Miss Hitchcock," Alves said quickly. "Won't you come in?" + +"How did you know!" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed, and added without waiting for +a reply: "Let's sit here on the steps--the sun is so warm and nice. I've +been a long time in coming to see you," her voice rippled on cordially, +while Alves watched her. "But we've been out of the city so much of the +time,--California, North Carolina, and abroad." + +Alves nodded. The young woman's ease of manner and luxurious dress +intimidated her. She sat down on the step above Miss Hitchcock, and she had +the air of examining the other woman without committing herself. + +"But, how did you know me?" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed, with a little laugh +of satisfaction. + +"Dr. Sommers has told me about you." + +"Did he! He didn't tell any one of his marriage." The bluntness of the +speech was relieved by the confidential manner in which Miss Hitchcock +leaned forward to the other woman. + +"It was sudden," Alves replied coolly. + +"I know! But _we_, my father and I, had a right to feel hurt. We knew +him so well, and we should have liked to know you." + +"Thank you." + +"But we had no cards--you disappeared--hid yourselves--and you turn up in +this unique place! It's only by chance that I've found you now." + +"We didn't send out cards. We are such simple people that we don't +expect--" + +Miss Hitchcock blushed at the challenge, and interrupted to save the speech +from its final ungraciousness. + +"Of course, but we are different. We have always been so interested in Dr. +Sommers. He was such a promising man." + +Alves made no effort to reply. She resented Miss Hitchcock's efforts to +reach her, and withdrew into her shell. This young woman with her attendant +brougham belonged to the world that she liked to feel Sommers had renounced +for her sake. She disliked the world for that reason. + +"Is he doing well?" Miss Hitchcock asked bluntly. "He was so brilliant in +his studies and at the hospital! I was sorry that he left, that he felt he +ought to start for himself. He had a good many theories and ideals. We +didn't agree,"--she smiled winningly at the grave woman, "but I have had +time to understand somewhat--only I couldn't, I can't believe that my +father and his friends are _all_ wrong." Miss Hitchcock rushed on +heedlessly, to Alves's perplexity; she seemed desperately eager to +establish some kind of possible understanding between them. But this cold, +mature woman, in her plain dress, repelled her. She could not prevent +herself from thinking thoughts that were unworthy of her. + +Why had he done it! What had this woman to give that the women of her set +could not equal and more than equal? The atmosphere of her brougham, of her +costly gown and pretty hat contrasted harshly with the dingy temple and +dead weeds of the waste land. Dr. Lindsay had said much, and insinuated +more, about the entanglement that had ruined the promising young surgeon. +Was it this woman's sensual power--she rejected the idea on the instant. +Dr. Sommers was not that kind, in spite of anything that Lindsay might say. +She could not understand it--his devotion to this woman, his giving up his +chances. It was all a part of some scheme beyond her power to grasp fully. + +"I want to know you," she said at last, after an awkward silence. "Won't +you let me?" + +Alves leaned slightly forward, and spoke slowly. + +"You are very kind, but I don't see any good in it. We don't belong to your +world, and you would show him all the time what he has to get along +without. Not that he wouldn't do it again," she added proudly, noticing the +girl's lowered gaze. "I don't think that he would like to have me say that +he had given up anything. But he's got his way to make, _here_, and it +is harder work than you imagine." + +"I don't see, then, why you refuse to let me--his old friends--help him." +Miss Hitchcock spoke impatiently. She was beginning to feel angry with this +impassive woman, who was probably ignorant of the havoc she had done. + +"He doesn't want any help!" Alves retorted. "We are not starving now. +_I_ can help him. I will help him and be enough for him. He gave it up +for me." + +"Can you get him friends and practice?" Miss Hitchcock asked sharply. "Can +you make it possible for him to do the best work, and stand high in his +profession? Will you help him to the place where he can make the most of +himself, and not sell his soul for bread?" + +These questions fell like taunts upon the silent woman. She seemed to feel +beneath them the boast, 'I could have done all that, and much more!' These +words were like the rest of this fashionable young woman--her carriage, her +clothes, her big house, her freshness of person--all that she did not have. +Alves retorted: + +"He won't let any one push him, I know. What he wants, he will be glad to +get by himself. And," she added passionately, "I will help him. If I stand +in his way,--and he can't do what he wants to do,--I will take myself out +of his life." + +Boast for boast, and the older woman's passionate words seemed to ring the +stronger. They looked at each other defiantly. At last Miss Hitchcock +pulled her wrap about her, and rose to go. A final wave of regret, of +yearning not to be thrust out in this way from these lives made her say: + +"I am sorry you couldn't have let me be a little friendly. I wanted to have +you to dinner,"--she smiled at the dull practicality of her idea; "but I +suppose you won't come." + +"He may do as he likes," Alves said, in a more conciliatory manner. + +"But he can't!" the girl smiled back good-humoredly. "One doesn't go to +dinner without one's wife, especially when one's wife doesn't like the +hostess." + +Alves laughed at the frank speech. She might have liked this eager, fresh +young woman, who took things with such dash and buoyancy, if she could have +known her on even terms. As they stood facing each other, a challenge on +Miss Hitchcock's face, Alves noticed the doctor's figure in the road +beyond. + +"I think that is Dr. Sommers coming. He can answer your question for +himself." + +Sommers was approaching from Blue Grass Avenue; his eyes were turned in the +direction of the lake, so that he did not see the women on the steps of the +temple until Miss Hitchcock turned and held out her hand. Then he started, +perceptibly enough to make Alves's lips tighten once more. + +"I have been calling on your wife," Miss Hitchcock explained, talking fast. +"But she doesn't like me, won't ask me to come again." + +"We shall be very glad to see you," Alves interposed quickly. "But I make +no calls." + +Miss Hitchcock declined to sit down, and Sommers accompanied her to the +waiting carriage. Alves watched them. Miss Hitchcock seemed to be talking +very fast, and her head was turned toward his face. + +Miss Hitchcock was answering Sommers's inquiries about Colonel and Mrs. +Hitchcock. The latter had died over a year ago, and Colonel Hitchcock had +been in poor health. + +"He has some bitter disappointments," Miss Hitchcock said gravely. "His +useful, honorable, unselfish life is closing sadly. We have travelled a +good deal; we have just come back from Algiers. It is good to be back in +Chicago!" + +"I have noticed that the Chicagoan repeats that formula, no matter how much +he roams. He seems to travel merely to experience the bliss of returning to +the human factory." + +"It isn't a factory to me. It is home," she replied simply. + +"So it is to us, now. We are earning our right to stay within its gates." + +"Are things--going better?" Miss Hitchcock asked hesitatingly. She scanned +the doctor's face, as if to read in the grave lines the record of the year. + +"We are alive and clothed," he replied tranquilly. + +"What a frightful way to put it!" + +"The lowest terms--and not very different from others." His eye rested upon +the glossy horses and the spotless victoria. + +"No!" Miss Hitchcock answered dispiritedly. "But I _won't_ think of it +that way. I am coming to see you again, if I may?" + +"You were very good to look us up," he answered evasively. + +They lingered, speaking slowly, as if loath to part in this superficial +manner. He told her of his employment in Burnside, and remarked slowly, + +"I wonder who could have put the manager on my track." + +"I wonder," she repeated, looking past him. + +"You see I didn't start quite at the scratch," he added, his face relaxing +into a smile. + +"I shouldn't quarrel about _that_ handicap." + +"No, I am not as ready to quarrel as I once was." + +Her face had the eager expression of interest and vitality that he +remembered. She seemed to have something more that she wanted to say, but +she simply held out her hand, with a warm "good-by," and stepped into the +carriage. + +When he returned to the temple, Alves was busy getting their dinner. She +paused, and glancing at Sommers remarked, "How beautiful she is!" + +"She is a good woman. She ought to marry," he responded. + +"Why?" + +"Because she is so sound and fine at bottom." + +"You were glad to see her again." + +"Did I show it unduly?" + +"I knew you were, and she knows it." + +When he looked at her a few moments later, her eyes were moist. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"Pshaw! pshaw!" Dr. Leonard exclaimed, in a coaxing tone. "I'm +disappointed, Alves. 'Tain't natural. I mean to see _him_ and show him +what harm it is." + +"No, no, don't speak of it again, at least to _him_," Alves pleaded +anxiously. "He would do that, or anything, if he thought I wanted it. I +_don't_ want it, I tell you; I'm happier as it is." + +"S'pose there are children?" the old dentist asked, in a convincing tone. + +"I hope there never will be." + +"Now, that shows how wrong you are, how fussed up--why, what's marriage for +if it ain't for children? I guess I've had as hard a struggle as most to +keep head to the tide, but I couldn't spare the children. Now, I'll get our +minister to do the job. You and the doctor come out next Sunday to my +house, and after the evening service we'll slip over to the church and make +it all right." + +Alves smiled at the earnest kindness of the old dentist, but shook her head +firmly. Dr. Leonard gathered up his overcoat and silk hat, but seemed loath +to go. He peered out of the windows that Sommers had put into the big doors +of the temple. + +"It's like your living out here in this ramshackle old chicken-coop, when +you might have a tidy flat on Paulina Street; and the doctor could have a +desk in my office next door to his old boss." Dr. Leonard spoke testily, +and Alves laid her hand soothingly on his arm. + +"I guess we aren't made to be like other people." + +"You won't have any happiness so long as you defy God's law." + +"Did I have any when I lived according to it?" + +The dentist, at the end of his arguments, turned the door-knob. + +"Some day, Alves, _he_ will reproach you justly for what you've done." + +"I shall be dead before that day." + +"I've no patience with you, talking of death and hoping you'll never have +children." + +The old dentist stumbled out into the portico, and, without further words, +trudged down the road. Alves lingered in the open door in spite of the +intense cold, and watched him, with an unwonted feeling of loneliness. The +few people that touched her solitary life seemed to draw back, repelled by +something unusual, unsafe in her and her situation. Why was she so +obstinate about this trivial matter of a ceremony that counted for so much +with most people? At first her refusal had been a sentiment, merely, an +instinctive, unreasoned decision. Now, however, there were stronger causes: +she would not consent to tie his hands, to make him realize the +irrevocableness of his step. Time might come when... + +And why had she so stoutly denied a wish for children? These days her +thoughts went back often to her dead child--the child of the man she had +married. Preston's share in the child was so unimportant now! To the mother +belonged the child. Perhaps it was meant to be so in order that something +might come to fill the empty places of a woman's heart. If she had +children, what difference would that ignorance of the man she loved, that +division from him, make? The man had his work, his ideas--the children of +his soul; and the woman had the children of her body. Each went his way and +worked his life into the fabric of the world. Love! Love was but an +episode, an accident of the few blossoming years of life. To woman there +was the gift of children, and to man the gift of labor. She wondered if +this feeling would increase as the years passed. Would she think more and +more of the child she had had, the other man's child? And less of him whom +she loved? + +"Trying to make an icicle of yourself?" a jovial voice called out; the next +moment Dresser came up the steps. The portico shook as he stamped his feet. +He wore a fur-lined coat, and carried a pair of skates. His face, which had +grown perceptibly fuller since his connection with _The Investor's +Monthly_, was red with cold. + +"The ice on the lake is first-rate, Alves, and I skated up the shore to see +if I could get you for a spin." + +"I am glad you came," Alves said, with new life. "I was kind of lonely and +blue, and the doctor is off on a case the other side of nowhere." + +"Just the time," responded Dresser, who seemed to have the good luck at +present of making "right connections." + +They skated down the lagoon to the blackened Court of Honor, through this +little pond, around the dismantled figure of Chicago, out into the open +lake beside the long pier. The ice was black and without a scratch. They +dashed on toward the centre of the lake, Alves laughing in pure exultation +over the sport. They had left far behind the few skaters that had ventured +beyond the lagoon, and taking hands they flew for a mile down the shore. +Then Alves proposed that they should go back to the temple for a cup of +tea. The wind was up, beating around the long, black pier behind them, and +when they turned, they caught it full in the face. Alves, excited by the +tussle, bent to the task with a powerful swing; Dresser skated fast behind +her. As they neared the long pier, instead of turning in toward the +esplanade, Alves struck out into the lake to round the obstruction and +enter the yacht pool beyond. Dresser kept the pace with difficulty. As she +neared the end of the pier, she gave a little cry; Dresser saw her leap, +then heard a warning shout, + +"Look out--the pool!" As he scuttled away from the oily water where the +drifts opened, he saw Alves clinging to the rim of ice on the piles. + +"Don't be afraid," she called back. "I can crawl under the pier and get up +on the cross-bars. Go on to the shore." + +While he protested she vanished, and in a minute he saw her reappear above, +waving her hand to him. She took off her skates leisurely, wrung out her +skirt, and walked along the pier. He skated up as close as he could, +stammering his admiration and fears. When he reached the shore, she was +already running down the path to the temple. He followed more leisurely, +and found her, in a dry skirt, stirring up the fire in the stove. + +"That was a close call," he gasped admiringly, throwing his skates into the +corner. + +"Wasn't it fine?" she laughed. "I'd like days and days of that--flying +ahead, with a hurricane behind." + +She shovelled some coal into the ugly little stove, and gayly set about +preparing tea. Dresser had never seen her so strong and light-hearted as +she was this afternoon. They made tea and toasted crackers, chaffing each +other and chattering like boy and girl. After their meal Dresser lit his +pipe and crouched down by the warm stove. + +"I wish you were like this oftener," he murmured admiringly. "Gay and ready +for anything!" + +"I don't believe I shall be as happy as this for weeks. It comes over me +sometimes." + +She leaned forward, her face already subdued with thought. + +"It makes you beautiful to be happy," Dresser said, with clumsy +self-consciousness. + +Alves's eyes responded quickly, and she leaned a little farther forward, +pondering the words. Suddenly Dresser took her hand, and then locked her in +his arms. Even in the roughness of his passion, he could not fail to see +her white face. She struggled in his grasp without speaking, as if knowing +that words would be useless. And Dresser, too embarrassed by his act to +speak, dragged her closer to him. + +"Don't touch me," she gasped; "what have I done!" + +"I _will_ kiss you," the man cried. "What difference is it, anyway?" + +He wrested her from the low chair, and she fell without power to save +herself, to struggle further. The room was swimming before her eyes, and +Dresser had his arms about her. Then the door opened, and she saw Sommers +enter. Her eyes filled with tears. + +"What is the matter?" he exclaimed, looking sharply about at the upset +chair, the prostrate form, and Dresser's red face. + +"She has fallen--fainted," Dresser stammered. +Alves seemed to acquiesce for a moment, and her head sank back; then she +opened her eyes and looked at Sommers pitifully. + +"No, Howard. Help me." + +Sommers raised her, his face much troubled. While he held her, she spoke +brokenly, trying to hide her face. + + +"You must know. He kissed me. I don't know why. Make him go away. O Howard, +what am I?" + +Sommers dropped his arm from Alves and started toward Dresser, who was +edging away. + +"What is this?" + +His dictatorial tone made Dresser pause. + +"She told you. I was a fool. I tried to kiss her." + +Sommers took him by the arm without a word. + +"Yes, I am going. Don't make a row about it. You needn't get into a state +about it. She isn't Mrs. Sommers, you know!" + +"Oh!" Alves groaned, closing her eyes again. "How can he say that!" + +Sommers dropped his arm. + +"Who told you that Alves was not my wife?" he asked drearily. + +"Every one knows it. Lindsay has the whole story. You--" + +"Don't say anything more," Sommers interrupted sternly. "You are too nasty +to kill." + +His tone was quiet. He seemed to be questioning himself what he should do. +Finally, opening the door, he grasped Dresser by the neck and flung him +into the sand outside. Then he closed the door and turned to Alves. She was +crouching before the fire, sobbing to herself. He stroked her hair +soothingly. + +"We must conform," he said at last. + +She shook her head. "It is too late to stop that talk. I was wrong to care +about not having the ceremony, and it was foolish to tell Jane. But--to +have him think, his touch--how can you ever kiss me again! You let him go," +she added, her passion flaming up; "I would have killed him. Why didn't you +let me kill him?" + +"That is savage," he replied sadly. "What good is it to answer brutality by +crime? You cannot save your skirts from the dirt," he concluded softly to +himself. "I knew the fellow was bad; I knew it eight years ago, when he +took a Swiss girl to Augsburg and left her there. But I said to myself then +that, like many men, he had his moods of the beast which he could not +control, and thought no more about it. Now his mood of the beast touches +me. Society keeps such men in check; he will marry Laura Lindsay and make +an excellent, cringing husband, waiting for Lindsay's savings. You see," he +ended, turning to his work-table, "I suppose he felt released from the +bonds of society by the way we live, by--it all." + +Alves rose and walked to and fro. + +"Do you think," she asked at last, "that anything I could have done--he +could have felt that I--encouraged him?" + +"I don't think anything more about it," Sommers answered, closing his lips +firmly. "It is part of the mire; we must avert our eyes, Alves." + +But in spite of his mild, even gentle way of dealing with the affair, he +could not fall into his routine of work. He got up from the table and, +finding the room too warm, threw open a window to let the clear, cold +winter air rush over his face. He stood there a long time, plunged in +thought, while Alves waited for him to come back to her. At last she could +bear it no longer. She crept over to his side and placed her head close to +his. + +"I wish you would even hate me, would be angry, would _feel_ it," she +whispered. "Will you ever care to kiss me again?" + +"Foolish woman!" Sommers answered, taking her face in his hands. "Why +should _that_ make any difference to me, any more than if a drunken +brute had struck you?" + +"But it does," she asserted sadly. "Everything does, Howard--all the past: +that I let my husband touch me; that I had to live with him; that you had +to know it, him--it all makes, oh, such a difference!" + +"No," he responded, in a high voice. "By God, it makes no difference--only +one thing." He paused. Then with a wrench he went on, "Alves, did you--did +you--" But he could not make himself utter the words, and before he had +mastered his hesitation she had broken in impetuously: + +"No, I am right; the great happiness that I wanted to give you must come +from the spirit and body of a woman untouched by the evil of living in the +world. The soiled people like me should not--" + +He closed her lips with a kiss. + +"Don't blaspheme our life," he answered tenderly. "One cannot live +unspotted except in the heart." + +He kissed her again, tenderly, lovingly. But the kiss did not assuage her +burning shame; it savored of pity, of magnificent charity. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +One still, frozen winter day succeeded another in changeless iteration. The +lake was a solid floor of gray ice as far as one could see. Along the shore +between the breakwaters the ice lay piled in high waves, with circles of +clear, shining glass beyond. A persistent drift from the north and east, +day after day, lifted the sheets of surface ice and slid them over the +inner ledges. At night the lake cracked and boomed like a battery of +powerful guns, one report starting another until the shore resounded with +the noise. The perpetual groaning of the laboring ice, the rending and +riving of the great fields, could be heard as far inshore as the temple all +through the still night. + +Early every morning Sommers with Alves would start for the lake. At this +hour only an occasional fisherman could be seen, cutting fresh holes in the +ice and setting his lines. Sommers preferred to skate in the mornings, for +later in the day the smooth patches of inshore ice were frequented by +people from the city. He loved solitude, it seemed to Alves, more and more. +In the Keystone days he had been indifferent to the people of the house; +now he avoided people except as they needed him professionally. She +attributed it, wrongly, to a feeling of pride. In reality, the habit of +self-dependence was gaining, and the man was thrusting the world into the +background. For hours Sommers never spoke. Always sparing of words, +counting them little, despising voluble people, he was beginning to lose +the power of ready speech. Thus, living in one of the most jostling of the +world's taverns, they lived as in the heart of the Arizona desert. + +They skated in these long silences, enjoying the exhilaration of the +exercise, the bitter air, the views of the huge, silent city. Now and then +they paused instinctively to watch the scene, without speaking, like great +lovers that are mute. Starting from the sheltered pool, where the yachts +lay in summer, they skirted the dark piles of the long pier, around which +the black water gurgled treacherously. Beyond the pier there was a +snakelike, oozing crack, which divided the inshore ice from the more open +fields outside. This they followed until they found a chance to cross, and +then they sped away toward the little island made by the "intake" of the +water works. + +These windless mornings the bank of city smoke northward was like gray +powder, out of which the skyscrapers stretched their lofty heads. The +buildings along the shore, etched in the transparent air, breathing +silently white mists of steam, lay like a mirage wonderfully touched with +purplish shadows. The great steel works rose to the south, visibly near, +mysteriously remote. The ribbons of fiery smoke from their furnaces were +the first signs of the city's awakening from its lethargic industrial +sleep. The beast was beginning to move along its score of miles of length. +But out here in the vacancies of the lake it seemed still torpid. + +Eastward, beyond the dot which the "intake" made, the lake was a still +arctic field, furrowed by ice-floes, snowy here, with an open pool of water +there, ribbed all over with dark crevasses of oozing water. In the far east +lay the horizon line of shimmering, gauzy light, as if from beyond the +earth's rim was flooding in the brilliance of a perpetual morning. North +and south, east and west, along the crevasses the lake smoked in the +morning sun, as the vapor from the water beneath rose into the icy air. +Savage, tranquil, immense, the vast field of ice was like the indifferent +face of nature, like unto death. + +One morning, as they waited breathlessly listening to the silence of the +ice sea, the lake groaned close beside them, and suddenly the floe on which +they stood parted from the field nearer shore. In a few minutes the lane of +open water was six feet in width. Sommers pointed to it, and without a word +they struck out to the north, weaving their way in and out of the floes, +now clambering over heaved-up barriers of ice, now flying along an +unscarred field, again making their way cautiously across sheets of +shivered surface ice that lay like broken glass beside a crevasse. Finally, +they reached the inner field. Sommers looked at his watch, and said: + +"We might as well go ashore here. That was rather a narrow chance. I must +look in at the Keystone to see how Webber is. I shouldn't wonder if he had +typhoid." + +"I wish we could go on," Alves replied regretfully. "I was hoping the lane +ran on and on for miles." + +She put her hands under his coat and leaned against him, looking wistfully +into the arctic sea. + +"Let me go back!" she pleaded. "I should like to skate on, on, for days!" + +"You can't go back without me. Some day, if this weather keeps up, we'll +try for the Michigan shore." + +"I should like to end things in this way," she continued musingly; "just us +two, to plunge on and on and on into that quiet ice-field, until, at last, +some pool shot up ahead--and then! To go out like that, quenched right in +the heat of our lives; not chilled, piece by piece." + +Sommers moved impatiently. + +"It isn't time for that." + +"No?" she asked rather than assented, and turned her face to the city. "I +am not sure; sometimes I think it is the ripe time. There can be nothing +more." + +Sommers did not answer, but began to skate slowly. Half an hour later they +climbed over the hills of shore ice, and he hurried away to the Keystone. +Alves walked slowly south on the esplanade. The gray sea of ice was covered +now with the winter sun. The pools and crevasses sent up sheets of steam. +Her eyes followed the ice lingeringly. Once she turned back to the lake, +but finally she started across the frozen grass plots in the direction of +the temple. She could see from a distance a black figure seated on the +portico, and she hastened her steps. She recognized the familiar squat, +black-clothed person of Mrs. Ducharme. There, in the sunlight between the +broken pillars, this gloomy figure seemed of ill omen. Alves regretted that +she had turned back from the ice. + +Mrs. Ducharme showed no sign of life until Alves reached the steps. She was +worn and unkempt. A ragged straw hat but partly disguised her rumpled hair. +Alves recalled what Miss M'Gann had said about her drinking. + +"I've been to see you two, three times," Mrs. Ducharme said, in a hoarse, +grumbling tone; "but you'se always out. This time I was a-going to wait if +I'd stayed all night." + +"Come in," Alves answered, unlocking the door. The woman dragged herself +into the temple. + +"Not so tidy a place as you and the other one had," she remarked +mournfully. + +Alves waited for her to declare her errand; but as she seemed in no haste +to speak, she asked, + +"Did you ever find Ducharme?" + +The Duchesse nodded sombrely, closing her eyes. + +"The woman shook him time of the strikes, when his money was gone." + +"Well, isn't that what you wanted?" + +Mrs. Ducharme nodded her head slowly. + +"She made him bad. He drinks, awful sometimes, and whenever I say anything, +he says he's going back to Peory, to that woman." + +Alves waited for the expected request for money. "They'se awful, these men; +but a woman can't get on without _'em_, no more than the men without +_us_. Only the men don't care much which one. Any one will do for a +time. Do you find the new one any better?" + +"I am very happy," Alves replied with a flush; "but I don't care to talk +about my affairs." + +"You needn't be so close," the woman exclaimed irritably. "I know all about +_you_. The _real_ one was a fine gentleman, even if he did liquor +bad." + +"I told you," Alves repeated, "that I didn't care to talk of my affairs. +What do you want?" + +"I've come here to talk of your affairs," Mrs Ducharme answered insolently. +"And I guess you'll listen. He,--I don't mean the doctor,--the real 'un, +came of rich, respectable folks. He told me all about it, and got me to +write 'em for money, and his sister sent him some." + +"So that was where he obtained the money to drink with when he got out of +the cottage!" Alves exclaimed. + +The woman nodded, and added, "He gave me some, too." + +Alves rose and opened the door. + +"I don't see why you came here," she said briefly, pointing to the door. + +But Mrs. Ducharme merely laughed and kept her seat. + +"Did he, the doctor feller, ever ask you anything about his death?" she +asked. + +Alves looked at her blankly. + +"When he signed that paper you gave the undertaker?" continued the +Duchesse. + +"I don't know what you mean!" Alves exclaimed, closing the door and walking +away from the woman. + +"How did _he_ die?" Mrs. Ducharme whispered. + +"You know as well as I," Alves cried, terrified now by the mysterious air +the woman assumed. + +"Yes!" Mrs. Ducharme whispered again. "I know as well as you. I know, and I +can tell. I know how the wife gave him powders,--sleeping powders the +doctor ordered,--the doctor who was hanging around, and ran off with her +just after the funeral." + +The woman's scheme of extracting blackmail flashed instantly into Alves's +mind. + +"You foul creature," she gasped, "you know it is an abominable lie--" + +"Think so? Well, Ducharme didn't think so when I told him, and there are +others that 'ud believe it, if I should testify to it!" + +Alves walked to and fro, overwhelmed by the thoughts of the evil which was +around her. At last she faced Mrs. Ducharme, who was watching her closely. + +"I see what it means. You want money--blackmail, and you think you've got a +good chance. But I will not give you a cent. I will tell Dr. Sommers first, +and let him deal with you." + +"The doctor! What does he say about his dying quiet and nice as he did? I +guess the doctor'll see the point." + +Alves started. What did Sommers think? What were his half-completed +inquiries? What did his conduct the night of Preston's death mean? This +wretched affair was like a curse left to injure her by the miserable +creature she had once been tied to. But Sommers would believe her! She had +given Preston but _one_ powder, and he had said two were safe. She +must tell him exactly what she had done. + +"You had better go now," she said to the woman more calmly. "I shall let +Dr. Sommers know what your story is. He will answer you." + +"Better not tell him," the woman replied, with a laugh. "He _knows_ +all he wants to--or I'd 'a' gone to him at once. When he hears about the +scrape, he'll run and leave you. You ain't married, anyway!" + +"Go," Alves implored. + +Mrs. Ducharme rose and stood irresolutely. + +"I don't want much, not to trouble you. I'll give you a day to think this +over, and to-morrer morning I'll be here at nine sharp to get your answer." + +When the woman had gone, Alves tried to reason the matter out calmly. She +had been too excited. The charge was simply preposterous, and, +inexperienced as she was, she felt that nothing could be made of it in any +court. But the mere suggestion of a court, of a public inquiry, alarmed +her, not for herself but for Sommers, who would suffer grievously. And it +did not seem easy to discuss the matter with him as she must now; it would +bring up distressing scenes. Her face burned at the thought. The woman's +tale was plausible. Had Sommers wondered about the death? Gradually it came +over her that Sommers had always suspected this thing. She was sure of it. +He had not spoken of it because he wished to protect her from her own deed. +But, now, he would not believe her. The Ducharme woman's tale would fit in +with his surmises. No! he _must_ believe her. And beside this last +fear, the idea of publicity, of ventilating the old scandal, thus damning +him finally and hounding him out of his little practice, faded into +inconsequence. The terrible thing was that for eighteen months he had +carried this belief about her in his heart. + +She tried to divert her excited mind from the throng of suspicions and +fears by preparing dinner. One o'clock came, then two, and Sommers did not +arrive. Mrs. Ducharme might have waited for him at the entrance to the +avenue, and he might have turned back to debate with himself what he should +do. But she acquitted him of that cowardice. + + * * * * * + +As the afternoon wore on, her mind turned to the larger thoughts of their +union. She saw with sudden clearness what she had done to this man she +loved. She had taken him from his proper position in the world; she had +forced him to push his theories of revolt beyond sane limits. She had +isolated him, tied him, and his powers would never be tested. A man like +him could never be happy, standing outside the fight with his equals. Worse +yet, she had soiled the reverences of his nature. What was she but a soiled +thing! The tenderness of his first passion had sprung amid the rank growth +of her past with its sordid little drama. And the soil in her fate had +tarnished their lives ever since, until this grievous... + +And what had she given him? Love,--every throb of her passionate body, +every desire and thought. Was this enough? There sounded the sad note of +defeat: it was not, could not be, would never be enough! No man ever lived +from love alone. Passion was a torrid desert. Already she had felt him +fading out of her life, withdrawing into the mysterious recesses of his +soul. He did not know it; he did not willingly put her away. But as each +plant of the field was destined to grow its own way, side by side with its +fellows, so human souls grew singly by themselves from some irresistible +inner force. And she was but the parasite that fed upon this soul. + +The room stifled her. She fetched her cape and hat. They were lying upon +his table, and as she took them she could see the sheets of an unfinished +letter. The writing was firm and fine, with the regular alignment and +spacing of one who is deft about handwork. Her eye glanced over the page; +the letter was in answer to a doctor in Baltimore, who had asked him to +cooperate in preparing a surgical monograph. "I should like extremely to be +with you in this," ran the lines, like the voice of the speaking man, +"but--and the refusal pains me more than you know--I cannot in honesty +undertake the work. I have not suitable conditions. It is eighteen months +since I entered a hospital, and I am behind the times. And, for the +present, I see no prospect of being in a condition to undertake the work. I +advise you to try Muller, or--" There the letter broke off, unfinished. She +raised it to her lips and kissed it. This was another sign, and she would +heed it. To be a full man he must return to the poor average world, or be +less than the trivial people he had always despised. + +When she opened the door, the level rays of the western sun blinded her. +There was no wind. Eastward the purple shadows had thickened, effacing the +line of light along the horizon. The frozen lake stretched, ridged and +furrowed, into the gloom. Toward it she walked,--slowly, irresistibly drawn +by its limitless bosom. + +She had boasted to Miss Hitchcock, "I will take myself out of his life, if +need be." It was not an empty, woman's boast. She was strong enough to do +what she willed. The time had come. She would not see him again. To break +with words the ties between them would but dishonor them both. They must +not discuss this thing. At the shore of the pool where they had put on +their skates in the morning she paused, shaken with a new thought. The +woman would come back on the morrow, and, without one word of denial from +her, would tell him that terrible lie, confirming his old suspicions. She +must see him,--she could not leave him with that foul memory,--and she +returned to the temple in the hope that he was already there. The little +building, however, was empty and desolate, and she sat down by the fire to +wait. + +The story, the denial of it, no longer seemed important. She would write +him what she had to say, and go away. She would tell him that she had not +poisoned her husband like a sick dog, and he would believe the solemn last +words. She took a sheet of paper from his table and wrote hesitatingly: + +"Dear Howard: I am leaving you----forever." Then she began again and again, +but at last she came back to the first words and wrote on desperately: "I +cannot make you understand it all. But one thing I must tell you, and you +must believe it. That horrible woman, Mrs. Ducharme, was here this morning +and told me that I had given opiates to my husband when he was ill in the +cottage, and had killed him, _and that you knew it_. Somehow I +remembered things that made me know you thought so, had always thought so. +Perhaps you will still think it must have been so, her story is so terribly +probable. + +"O Howard, you used to think that it would be right--but I couldn't. I +might have in time, but I couldn't then. I did nothing to hasten his death. +Believe this, if you love me the least. + +"That isn't the sole reason why I leave you. But it is all like that. I +ruin the world for you. Love is not all,--at least for a man,--and somehow +with me you cannot have the rest and love. We were wrong to rebel--I was +wrong to take my happiness. I longed so! I have been so happy! + +"Alves." + +It seemed pitifully inadequate--a few wavering lines--to tell the tale of +the volumes in her heart. But with a sigh she pushed back the chair and +gathered her hat and cape. Once more she hesitated, and seeing that the +fire in the stove was low, replenished it. Then she turned swiftly away, +locked the door,--putting the key where they hid it, in the hollow of a +pillar,--and walked rapidly in the direction of the lake. + +It was already nearly dusk. Little groups of skaters were sauntering +homeward from the lagoons and the patches of inshore ice. The lake was gray +and stern. She gained the esplanade, with a vague purpose of walking into +the city, of taking the train for Wisconsin. But as she passed the long +pier, the desire to walk out on the ice seized her once more. With some +difficulty she gained the black ice after scrambling over the debris piled +high against the beach. When she reached the clear spaces she walked slowly +toward the open lake. The gloom of the winter night was already gathering; +as she passed the head of the pier, a park-guard hailed her, with some +warning cry. She paid no attention, but walked on, slowly picking her way +among the familiar ice hills, in and out of the floes. + +Once beyond the head of the pier she was absolutely alone in the darkening +sea of ice. The cracks and crevasses were no longer steaming; instead, a +thin shell of ice was coating over the open surfaces. But she knew all +these spots and picked her way carefully. The darkness had already +enveloped the shore. Beyond, on all sides, rose small white hills of +drifted ice, making a little arctic ocean, with its own strange solitude, +its majestic distances, its titanic noises; for the fields of ice were +moving in obedience to the undercurrents, the impact from distant northerly +winds. And as they moved, they shrieked and groaned, the thunderous voices +hailing from far up the lake and pealing past the solitary figure to the +black wastes beyond. This tumult of the lake increased in fury, yet with +solemn pauses of absolute silence between the reports. At first Alves stood +still and listened, fearful, but as she became used to the noise, she +walked on calm, courageous, and strangely at peace in the clamor. Once she +faced the land, where the arc lights along the esplanade made blue holes in +the black night. Eastward the radiant line of illumined horizon reappeared, +creating a kind of false daybreak. + +So this was the end as she had wished it--alone in the immensity of the +frozen lake. This was like the true conception of life--one vast, ever +darkening sphere filled with threatening voices, where she and others +wandered in sorrow, in regret, in disappointment, and, also, in joy. Oh! +that redeemed it. Her joy had been so beautiful, so true to the promise of +God in the pitiful heart of man. She said to herself that she had tasted it +without sin, and now had the courage to put it away from her before it +turned to a draught bitter to her and to others. There were more joys in +this life than the fierce love for man: the joy over a child, which had +been given to her and taken away; the joy of triumph, the joy--but why +should she remember the others? Her joy had its own perfection. For all the +tears and waste of living, this one passion had been given--a joy that +warmed her body in the cold gloom of the night. + +There loomed in her path a black wall of broken ice. She drew herself +slowly over the crest of the massed blocks. Beyond lay a pleasant blackness +of clear water, into which she plunged,--still warm with the glow of her +perfect happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Webber had a well-developed case of typhoid, and Sommers had him moved to +St. Isidore's. The doctor accompanied him to the hospital, and once within +the doors of his old home, he lingered chatting with the house physician, +who had graduated from the Philadelphia school shortly after Sommers had +left. The come and go of the place, the air of excitement about the +hospital, stirred Sommers as nothing in months had done. Then the attention +paid him by the internes and the older nurses, who had kept alive in their +busy little world the tradition of his brilliant work, aroused all the +vanity in his nature. When he was about to tear himself away from the +pleasant antiseptic odor and orderly bustle, the house physician pressed +him to stay to luncheon. He yielded, longing to hear the talk about cases, +and remembering with pleasure the unconventional manners and bad food of +the St. Isidore mess-table. After luncheon he was urged to attend an +operation by a well-known surgeon, whose honest work he had always admired. +It was late in the afternoon when he finally started to leave, and then a +nurse brought word that Webber was anxious to see him about some business. +He found Webber greatly excited and worried over money matters. To his +surprise he learned that the foppish, quiet-mannered clerk had been +dabbling in the market. He held some Distillery common stock, and, also, +Northern Iron--two of the new "industrials" that were beginning to sprout +in Chicago. + +"You must ask the brokers to sell if the market is going against me," the +clerk exclaimed feverishly. "Perhaps, if I am to be tied up here a long +time, they'd better sell, anyway." + +"Yes," Sommers assented; "you must get it off your mind." + +So, with a promise to see White and Einstein, the brokers, at once, and +look after the stock, he soothed the sick man. + +"You're a good fellow," Webber sighed. "It's about all I have. I'll tell +you some time why I went in--I had very direct information." + +Sommers cut him short and hastened away. By the time he had found White and +Einstein's office, a little room about as large as a cigar shop in the +basement of a large building on La Salle Street, the place was deserted. A +stenographer told him, with contempt in her voice, that the Exchange had +been closed for two hours. Resolving to return the first thing in the +morning, he started for the temple. He had two visits to make that he had +neglected for Webber's case, but he would wait until the evening and take +Alves with him. He had not seen her for hours. For the first time in months +he indulged himself in a few petty extravagances as he crossed the city to +get his train. The day had excited him, had destroyed the calm of his usual +controlled, plodding habits. The feverish buoyancy of his mood made it +pleasant to thread the chaotic streams of the city streets. It was +intoxicating to rub shoulders with men once more. + +At Sixtieth Street he left the train and strode across the park, his +imagination playing happy, visionary tunes. He would drop in to-morrow at +St. Isidore's on his way back from White and Einstein's. He must see more +of those fellows at Henry's clinic; they seemed a good set. And he was not +sure that he should answer the Baltimore man so flatly. He would write for +further details. When he reached the temple, he found the place closed, and +he thought that Alves had gone to see one of his cases for him. The key was +in its usual hiding-place, and the fire looked as if it had been made +freshly. He had just missed her. So he filled a pipe, and hunted along the +table for the unfinished letter to the Baltimore man. It was blotted, he +noticed, and he would have to copy it in any case. As he laid it aside, his +eyes fell upon a loose sheet of note-paper covered with Alves's unfamiliar +writing. He took it up and read it, and then looked around him to see her, +to find her there in the next room. The letter was so unreal! + +"Alves!" he called out, the pleasant glow of hope fading in his heart. How +he had forgotten her! She must be suffering so much! Mechanically he put on +his hat and coat and left the temple, hiding the key in the pillar. She +could not have been gone long,--the room had the air of her having just +left it. He should surely find her nearby; he must find her. Whipped by the +intolerable imagination of her suffering, he passed swiftly down the sandy +path toward the electric lights, that were already lamping silently along +the park esplanade. He chose this road, unconsciously feeling that she +would plunge out that way. What had the Ducharme woman said? What had made +her take this harsh step, macerating herself and him just as they were +beginning to breathe without fear? He sped on, into the gullies by the +foundations of the burnt buildings, up to the new boulevard. After one +moment of irresolution he turned to the right, to the lake. That icy sea +had fascinated her so strongly! He shivered at the memory of her words. +Once abreast of the pier he did not pause, but swiftly clambered out over +the ice hills and groped his way along the black piles of the pier. The +vastness of the field he had to search! But he would go, even across the +floes of ice to the Michigan shore. He was certain that she was out there, +beyond in the black night, in the gloom of the rending ice. + +Suddenly, as he neared the end of the pier, the big form of a man, bearing, +dragging a burden, loomed up out of the dark expanse. It came nearer, and +Sommers could make out the uniform of a park-guard. He was half-carrying, +half-dragging the limp form of a woman. Sommers tried to hail him, but he +could not cry. At last the guard called out when he was within a few feet: + +"Give me a hand, will you. It's a woman,--suicide, I guess," he added more +gently. + +Sommers walked forward and took the limp form. The drenched garments were +already frosting in the cold. He turned the flap of the cape back from the +face. + +"It is my wife," he said quietly. + +"I saw her from the pier goin' out, and I called to her," the guard +replied, "but she kept on all the faster. Then I went back to the shore and +got on the ice and followed her as fast as I could, but--" + +Together they lifted her and carried her in over the rough shore ice up to +the esplanade. + +"We live over there." Sommers pointed in the direction of the temple. The +man nodded; he seemed to know the young doctor. + +"I shall not need your help," Sommers continued, wrapping the stiff cape +about the yielding form. He took her gently in his arms, staggered under +the weight, then started slowly along the esplanade. The guard followed for +a few steps; but as the doctor seemed able to carry his burden alone, he +turned back toward the city. + +Sommers walked on slowly. The stiff cape slipped back from Alves's head, +revealing in the blue electric light the marble-white pallor of the flesh, +the closed eyes. Sommers stopped to kiss the cold face, and with the +movement Alves's head nestled forward against his hot neck. Tears rose to +his eyes and fell against her cheek; he started on once more, tracing +carefully the windings of the path. + + * * * * * + +So this was the end! The little warmth and love of his cherishing arms +about her cold body completed the pittance of happiness she had craved. + +The story was too dark for him to comprehend now--from that first +understanding moment in St. Isidore's receiving room to this. Here was his +revolt, in one cold burden of dead love. She had left him in some delusion +that it would be better thus, that by this means he would find his way, +free and unshackled, back to the world of his fellows. And, perhaps, like a +creature of love, she had blindly felt love's slow, creeping paralysis, +love's ultimate death. Even now, as he staggered along the lighted avenue +of the park, in the silence of death and of night, that pregnant reproach +oppressed his heart. He had not loved her enough! She had felt a wall that +was building impalpably between them, a division of thought and of feeling. +She had put her arms against his man's world of secret ambition and desire +and had found it cold. + +She had struggled for her bit of happiness, poor, loving woman! She had +suffered under her past error, her marriage with Preston, and had endured, +until, suddenly relieved, she had embraced her happiness, only to find it +slowly vanishing in her warm hands. He had suspected her of grasping this +happiness without scruple, clamorously; but her sweet white lips spoke out +the falseness of this accusation. It was bitter to know that he had covered +her with this secret suspicion. He owed her a sea of pardons! + +So he labored on into the dark stretches of the park, among the debris of +the devastated buildings, up the little sandy hills, out of the park to the +lonely temple. Already his self-reproach seemed trivial. He knew how little +his concealed suspicions had to do with bringing about this catastrophe. +That misunderstanding was but a drop in the stream of fate, which was all +too swift for her strength. He paused at the last turn of the road and +rested, settling his burden more closely in his arms, drawing her to him in +the unavailing embrace of regret. Another kind of life, he said,--some +average marriage with children and home would have given her more fully the +human modicum of joy. But his heart rejected also this reproach. In no +other circumstance could he place her justly. She was so amply made for +joy--so strong to love, to endure; so true to the eternal passions. But not +mere household love, the calm minutes of interlude in the fragments of a +busy day! They would not satisfy the deep thirst for love in her heart. He +had given the best he had--all, nearly all, as few men could give, as most +men never give. He must content himself there. + +He started again and strode on to the end of the journey. Within the temple +he placed her on their bed, taking off her stiff clothes and preparing her +for sleep. Then he remade the fire, and opening a window for the low night +wind to draw across her face as she liked to have it, he sat down for his +vigil. + +Yes, it was the end! It was the end of his little personal battle with the +world, the end of judging and striving, the end of revolt. He should live +on, strangely enough, into many years, but not as they had tried to live in +self-made isolation. He should return to that web of life from which they +had striven to extricate themselves. She bade him go back to that fretwork, +unsolvable world of little and great, of domineering and incompetent wills, +of the powerful rich struggling blindly to dominate and the weak poor +struggling blindly to keep their lives: the vast web of petty greeds and +blind efforts. He should return, but humbly, with the crude dross of his +self-will burnt out. They had rebelled together; they had had their wills +to themselves; and that was ended. It could not have been otherwise. They +could never have known each other in the world; they had to withdraw +themselves apart. He looked at her afresh, lying on the pillow by his side, +her hair twining carelessly about the white arm. She was infinitely greater +than he,--so undivided and complete a soul! She had left him for the +commoner uses of life. And all the stains of their experience had been +removed, washed out by the pure accomplishment of her end. + +Already so cold, so sweetly distant, that face,--so done with life and with +him! He leaned over it and burst into tears. The dream of the summer night +had passed away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mrs. Ducharme returned to the temple at an early hour the next morning. +Sommers saw her mumbling to herself as she came across the park. Before she +knocked, he opened the door; she started back in fear of the sombre, +bearded face with the blood-shot eyes that seemed lying in wait for her. + +"Is the missus at home?" she murmured, drawing back from the door. + +"Come in," the doctor ordered. + +As soon as she entered, Sommers locked the door. + +"Now," he said quietly, pointing to a chair, "the whole story and no lies." + +The woman looked at the doctor and trembled; then she edged toward the +inner door. Sommers locked this, flung the key on the table, and pointed +again to the chair. + +"What did you tell her yesterday?" he demanded. + +Mrs. Ducharme began an incoherent tale about her head hurting her, about +the sin which the "healer" commanded her to rid her conscience of. Sommers +interrupted her. + +"Answer my questions. Did you threaten _her_?" + +The woman nodded her head. + +"Did you accuse her of drugging her husband?" + +She nodded her head again reluctantly; then cried out,--"Let me go! I'll +have the police on you two." + +Sommers stood over the woman as if he were about to lay hands on her. + +"You know the facts. Tell them. What happened to Preston that day?" + +"He'd been drinking." + +"You got him the liquor?" + +She nodded. + +"Then you gave him a powder from that box in Mrs. Preston's room?" + +The woman looked terrified, and did not answer. + +"If you don't tell me every word of truth," Sommers said, slowly drawing a +little syringe from his pocket, "you will never see anything again." + +"Yes, I gave him a powder." + +"One?" + +She nodded, her hands shaking. + +"Two?" + +"Yes," she gasped. "I was afraid Mrs. Preston would find out what I had +done, and one powder wasn't enough, didn't keep him quiet. So I put two +more in--thought it wouldn't do no harm. Then I guess Mrs. Preston gave him +some, when she came in. But you can't touch me," she added impudently. "The +healer said you had done a criminal act in signing that certificate. You +and she better look out." + + +Sommers stepped across the room and opened the inner door. Mrs. Ducharme +gave one glance at the silent figure and shrieked: + +"You killed her! You killed her! Let me out!" + +Sommers closed the door softly and returned to the shrieking creature. + + +"Keep quiet," Sommers ordered sternly, "while I think what to do with you." + +She held her tongue and sat as still as her quaking nerves permitted. +Sommers reviewed rapidly the story as he had made it out. At first it +occurred to him, as it had to Alves, that the woman had been drinking. But +his practised eyes saw more surely than Alves, and he judged that her +conduct had been the result of mental derangement. Probably the blow over +the eye, from which she was suffering when she came to Lindsay's office, +had hurt the brain. Otherwise, she would not have been silly enough to go +to Alves with her foolish story. It was possible, also, that the night of +Preston's death she had not known what she was doing. His resentment gave +place to disgust. The sole question was what to do with her. She would +talk, probably, and in some way he must avoid that danger for a few days, +at least. Then it would not matter to Alves or to him what she said. + +Finally he turned to the miserable, shaking figure, and said sternly: + +"You have committed one murder, and, perhaps, two. But I will not kill you +_now_, or put out your eyes, unless you get troublesome. Have you any +money? I thought not. You are going with me to the railroad station, where +I shall buy you a ticket." + +He unlocked the door and motioned to the woman. She followed him to the +station without protest, fascinated by his strong will. Sommers bought a +ticket to St. Louis and handed it to her with a dollar. + +"Remember, if I see or hear of you again,"--he put his finger in his +waistcoat pocket, significantly. "And there are other powders," he added +grimly. + +"Ducharme has gone back to Peory. I s'pose I can stop off there?" she asked +timidly, as the express arrived. + +"You can stop off anywhere on your way to hell," the doctor replied +indifferently. "But keep away from Chicago. There is no quicker way of +making that journey to hell than to come back here." + +Mrs. Ducharme trembled afresh and bundled herself on board the train. + +Sommers returned to the temple, feeling assured that the next few hours +would not be disturbed by the ill-omened creature. This vulgar, brutal act +had to be performed; he had been preparing himself for it since daylight, +when his mind had resumed the round of cause and effect that answers for +life. It was over now, and he could return to Alves. There were other petty +things to be done, but not yet. As he came across the park he noticed that +the door of the temple was open. Some one had entered while he was away. At +his step on the portico a figure rose from the inner room and came to meet +him. It was Louise Hitchcock. The traces of tears lay on her face. + +"I knew this morning," she said gently. "I thought you might be alone--and +so I came." + +"Sit down," Sommers replied wearily. In a few moments he added, "I suppose +you saw it in the papers--the guard must have told. Strange! that even in +death the world must meddle with her, the world that cared nothing for +her." + +"I am sorry." Miss Hitchcock blushed as she spoke. "I will go away--I +didn't mean to intrude--I thought--" + +"No, don't go! I didn't mean you. I wanted to be alone, all alone for a +little while, but I am glad now that you came, that you cared to come. You +didn't know Alves." + +"She wouldn't let me know her," Miss Hitchcock protested gently. + +"Yes, I remember. You see, our life was peculiar. I think Alves was afraid +of you, of all the world." + +"I knew how you loved her," Miss Hitchcock exclaimed irrelevantly. + +Sommers tried to answer. He felt like talking to this warm-hearted woman; +he wanted to talk, but he could not phrase the complex feeling in his +heart. Everything about Alves had something in it he could not make +another, even the most sympathetic soul in the world, understand. It was +like trying to explain an impression of a whole life. + +"There is so much I can't tell any one," he said at last, with a wan smile. +"Don't misunderstand--you'd have to know the whole, and I couldn't begin to +make you know it." + +"Don't try," she said, tears coming to her eyes. "I know that it has been +noble and generous--on both sides," she added. + +"It has ended," he answered drearily. "I don't know where to begin." + +"Can't I send for some one, some friend?" she suggested. + +"I haven't any friend," he replied absently. "And Alves wouldn't want any +one. She would have done everything for me. I will do everything for her." + +"Then I will stay here, while you are away," Miss Hitchcock replied +quickly. "Don't hurry. I will wait here in this room." + +Sommers thought a moment and then answered gently: +"I think not. I think Alves would rather be alone. Let me go back to the +city with you. I have some errands there." + +Miss Hitchcock's face expressed her disappointment. She had triumphed +impulsively over so many conventions in coming to him unasked that she felt +doubly hurt. + +"Very well. Only you will not always put me outside, in this way?" she +implored, bravely stifling her pride. "It will not be so easy to say it +later, and it will hurt if you refuse to have anything to do with my father +and me." + +"_I_ shall not refuse," Sommers responded warmly. "I am grateful for +what you want to do." + +"You know--" She completed the sentence with a sigh and prepared to +accompany him. Sommers locked the door, putting the key in the usual +hiding-place, and together they crossed the park to the railroad station. +There they separated. + +"I shall not come out to-morrow," Miss Hitchcock said, as if she had +arrived at the decision after some wavering. + +He did not urge her to come, and they shook hands. + +"Remember," she said hesitatingly, "that ideas don't separate people. You +must _trust_ people, those who understand and care." + +"I shan't forget," he answered humbly. + +On the train he remembered Webber's business, and as soon as he reached the +city he went to the brokers' office. The morning session of the Exchange +had just closed, and Einstein was fluttering in and out of his private +office, sending telegrams and telephone messages. Sommers got his ear for a +moment and explained his errand. + +"I don't know anything about the stocks," he concluded. "But I think you +had best close his account, as it will be some weeks before he should be +troubled with such things." + +"Damn shame!" Einstein remarked irritably, removing his cigar from his +mouth. "I could have got him out even this morning. Now, it's too late." + +As Sommers seemed ignorant of the market, the broker went on to explain, +meanwhile sending a telegram: + +"Most of his is Consolidated Iron--one of Carson's new promotions. Porter +is in it, and a lot of big men. Splendid thing, but these new industrials +are skittish as colts, and the war talk is like an early frost. Yesterday +it was up to ninety, but to-day, after that Venezuelan business in the +Senate, it backed down ten points. That about cleans our friend out." + +"He doesn't own the stock, then?" Sommers asked. + +Einstein looked at the doctor pityingly. + +"He's taken a block of two hundred on margins. We hold some Baking Powder +common for him, too. But he owns that." + +Sommers lingered about, irresolute. He didn't like to take the +responsibility of selling out Webber, nor the equal responsibility of doing +nothing. Miss M'Gann's hopes, he reflected, hung on this stock trade. + +"What is the prospect to-morrow?" Sommers asked timidly. He felt out of +place in all the skurry of the brokers' office, where men were drinking in +the last quotations as the office boy scratched them on the board. + +"Dunno. Can't tell. Good, if the Senate doesn't shoot off its mouth any +more." + +"How much is Webber margined for?" + +"Say, Phil," Einstein sang out to his partner, who came out from another +cubbyhole, "how much has Webber on Iron?" + +"Six points," White replied. He nodded to Sommers. The doctor remembered +White as one of the negative figures of his early months in Chicago,--a +smiling, slim, youthful college boy. Evidently he was the genteel member of +the firm. Sommers thought again. He could not wait. "Will you carry him +five points more?" he asked. + +"Can you put up the money?" White replied indifferently. + +"No," the doctor admitted. "But I will try to get it at once." + +Einstein shook his head. But White asked, good-naturedly, "Are you sure?" + +"I think so," the doctor replied. + +"Well, that'll tide him over; the market is sure to go back next week." + +Sommers escaped from the heated room with its noise and jostling men. He +realized vaguely that he had made himself responsible for a thousand +dollars--foolishly, he thought now. He had done it on the spur of the +moment, with the idea that he would save Webber from a total loss, and +thereby save Miss M'Gann. He felt partly responsible, too; for if he had +not lingered at St. Isidore's yesterday, he could have delivered the order +before the reaction had set in. He wondered, however, at his ready promise +to find the thousand dollars for the extra margin. As he had told Miss +Hitchcock, he had not a friend in the world to whom he could apply for +help. Even the last duties to Alves he must perform alone, and to those he +turned himself now. + +As he passed the Athenian Building, he remembered Dr. Leonard and went up +to his office. The old dentist was the one friend in Chicago whom Alves +would want near her to-morrow. Dr. Leonard came frowning out of his office, +and without asking Sommers to sit down listened to what he had to say. + +"Yes," he replied, without unwrinkling his old face, "I saw it in the +papers. I'll come, of course I'll come. I set an awful store by Alves, poor +girl! There weren't nothing right for her in this world. Maybe there will +be in the next." + +Sommers made no reply. He felt the kind old dentist's reproach. + +"Young feller," the dentist exclaimed sharply as Sommers turned to go, "I +mistrust you have much to answer for in that poor girl's case. Does your +heart satisfy you that you have treated her right?" + +Sommers bowed his head humbly before this blunt speech. In the sense that +Dr. Leonard meant, perhaps, he was not guilty, but in other ways he was not +sure. It was a difficult thing to treat any human soul justly and tenderly. +The doctor took his silence for confession. + +"Well," he added, turning away and adjusting his spectacles that were +lodged above his watery blue eyes, "I ain't no call to blame you. It's +enough blame anyway to have hurt _her_--there wasn't a nicer woman +ever born." + +As Sommers left the Athenian Building, his mind reverted to the talk with +the brokers. He was glad that he had undertaken to save Webber from his +loss. Alves would have liked it. Miss M'Gann had been kind to her when she +was learning how to teach. Probably Webber would lose the money in some +other venture, but he would do what he could to save the clerk's little +capital now. Where could he get the money? There was but one person on whom +he could call, and overcoming his dislike of the errand he went at once to +Miss Hitchcock. + +The house was pleasantly familiar. As he waited for Miss Hitchcock in the +little library that belonged especially to her, he could detect no changes +in the conglomerate furnishing of the house. He had half expected to find +that it had yielded to the younger generation, but something had arrested +the march of innovation. The steel engravings still hung in the hall, and +the ugly staircase had not been reformed. Colonel Hitchcock came into the +house, and without looking into the study went upstairs. Sommers started to +intercept him in the hall, but restrained the impulse. Miss Hitchcock +appeared in a few moments, advancing to greet him with a frank smile, as if +it were the most natural thing to meet him there. + +"I have come to ask you to do something for me," Sommers began at once, +still standing, "because, as I told you, I have no one else to ask for +help." + +"You take the bloom off kindnesses in a dreadfully harsh way," Miss +Hitchcock responded sadly. + +"But it's something one doesn't usually ask of a young woman," Sommers +added. He told her briefly the circumstances that led to his visit. "I +haven't literally any friend of whom I could properly ask five cents." + +"Don't say that. It sounds so forlorn!" + +"Does it? I never thought about it before. I suppose it is a reflection +upon a man that at thirty-three he hasn't any one in the world to ask a +favor of. It looks as if he had lived a pretty narrow life." + +"Hard, not narrow," Miss Hitchcock interposed quickly. "I will send the +money to-morrow. John will take it to the brokers, if you will write them a +note." + +As he still stood, she went on, to avoid the awkward silence: "Those horrid +industrials! I am sure Uncle Brome will lose everything in them. He's a +born gambler. Mr. Carson has got him interested in these new things." + +"Is his picture still on exhibition?" Sommers inquired, with a faint smile. + +"I don't know. I haven't seen much of them lately." She spoke as if Carson +and his kind were completely indifferent to her. Her next remark surprised +Sommers. + +"I think I can see now why you felt as you did about--well, Mr. Carson. He +is a sort of shameless ideal held up before such people as this young man +who is speculating. Isn't that it?" + +Sommers nodded. + +"Uncle Brome, too? When he makes several hundred thousand dollars in +Consolidated Iron, every clerk, every little man who knows anything about +it has all his bad, greedy, envious passions aroused." + +The doctor smiled at the serious manner in which the young woman explored +the old ground of their differences. + +"But," she concluded, "they aren't _all_ like Mr. Carson and Uncle +Brome. You mustn't make that mistake. And Uncle Brome is so generous, too. +It is hard to understand." + +"No," Sommers said, preparing to leave. "Of course they are not all alike, +and it is hard to judge. No man knows what he is doing--to any great +extent." + +"What will you do?" Miss Hitchcock asked abruptly. + +As Sommers's careworn face flushed, she added hurriedly,--"How cruel of me! +Of course you don't know. That will settle itself." + +"I have had some notion of trying for a hospital again. It doesn't take +much to live. And I don't believe in a doctor's making money. If it isn't +the hospital--well, there's enough to do." + +Miss Hitchcock thought a moment, and then remarked unexpectedly, "I like +that idea!" + +"About all my kick over things has come to that point. There are some +people who should be willing to--no, not willing, who should _want_ to +do things without any pay. The world needs them. Most people are best off +in the struggle for bread, but the few who see how--unsatisfying that end +is, should be willing to work without profits. Good-by." + +As they shook hands, Sommers added casually: "I shouldn't wonder if I went +away from Chicago--for a time. I don't know now, but I'll let you know, if +you care to have me." + +"Of course I shall care to know!" + +Miss Hitchcock's voice trembled, and then steadied itself, as she +added,--"And I am glad you are thinking of it." + + * * * * * + +With a sense of relief Sommers found himself alone, and free to return to +the temple, to Alves, for the last time. The day had been crowded with +insistent, petty details, and he marvelled that he had submitted to them +patiently. In the chamber where the dead woman lay it was strangely still-- +deserted by all things human. He locked the doors and sat down for +his second night of watch, reproaching himself for the hours he had lost +this day. But when he looked at the cold, white face upon the pillow, that +already seemed the face of one who had travelled far from this life, he +felt that it had been best as it was. He kissed the silent lips and covered +the face; he would not look at it again. Alves had gone. To-morrow he would +lay this body in the little burial plot of the seminary above the Wisconsin +lakes. + +Already Alves had bequeathed him something of herself. She had returned him +to his fellow-laborers with a new feeling toward them, a humbleness he had +never known, a desire to adjust himself with them. He was sensitive to the +kindness of the day,--White's friendly trust, Leonard's just words, Miss +Hitchcock's generosity. As the sense of this life faded from the woman he +loved, the dawn of a fairer day came to him. And his heart ached because +she for whom he had desired every happiness might never respond to human +joy. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +During the next two years the country awoke from its torpor, feeling the +blood tingle in its strong limbs once more, and rubbing its eyes in wonder +at its own folly. Some said the spirit of hope was due to the gold basis; +some said it was the good crops; some said it was the prospect of national +expansion. In any event the country got tired of its long fit of sulks; +trade revived, railroads set about mending their tracks, mills opened--a +current of splendid vitality began to throb. Men took to their business +with renewed avidity, content to go their old ways, to make new snares and +to enter them, all unconscious of any mighty purpose. Those at the faro +tables of the market increased the stakes and opened new tables. New +industrial companies sprung up overnight like mushrooms, watered and sunned +by the easy optimism of the hour. The rumors of war disturbed this hothouse +growth. But the "big people" took advantage of these to squeeze the "little +people," and all worked to the glory of the great god. In the breast of +every man on the street was seated one conviction: 'This is a mighty +country, and I am going to get something out of it.' The stock market might +bob up and down; the gamblers might gain or lose their millions; the little +politicians of the hour might talk blood and iron by the pound of +_Congressional Record_; but the great fact stared you in the +face--every one was hopeful; for every one there was much good money +somewhere. It was a rich time in which to live. + +Remote echoes of this optimism reached Sommers. He learned, chiefly through +the newspapers, that Mr. R. G. Carson had emerged from the obscurity of +Chicago and had become a celebrity upon the metropolitan stage after "the +successful flotation of several specialties." Mr. Brome Porter, he gathered +from the same source, had built himself a house in New York, and altogether +shaken the dust of Chicago from his feet. Sommers passed him occasionally +in the unconsolidated air of Fifth Avenue, but the young doctor had long +since sunk out of Brome Porter's sphere of consciousness. Sommers thought +Porter betrayed his need of Carlsbad more than ever, and he wondered if the +famous gambler had beguiled Colonel Hitchcock into any of his ventures. But +Sommers did not trouble himself seriously with the new manifestations of +gigantic greed. Unconscious of the fact that from collar-button to +shoe-leather he was assisting Mr. Carson's industries to yield revenues on +their water-logged stocks, he went his way in his profession and labored. +For the larger part of the time he was an assistant in a large New York +hospital, where he found enough hard work to keep his thoughts from +wandering to Carson, Brome Porter, and Company. In the feverish days that +preceded the outbreak of the Cuban war, he heard rumors that Porter had +been caught in the last big "flotation," and was heavily involved. But the +excitement of those days destroyed the importance of the news to the public +and to him. + +Sommers resolved to find service in one of the military hospitals that +before long became notorious as pestholes. From the day he arrived at +Tampa, he found enough to tax all his energies in trying to save the lives +of raw troops dumped in the most unsanitary spots a paternal government +could select. In the melee created by incompetent officers and ignorant +physicians, one single-minded man could find all the duties he craved. +Toward the close of the war, on the formation of a new typhoid hospital, +Sommers was put in charge. There one day in the heat of the fight with +disease and corruption he discovered Parker Hitchcock, who had enlisted, +partly as a frolic, an excuse for throwing off the ennui of business, and +partly because his set were all going to Cuba. Young Hitchcock had come +down with typhoid while waiting in Tampa for a transport, and had been left +in Sommers's camp. He greeted the familiar face of the doctor with a +welcome he had never given it in Chicago. + +"Am I going to die in this sink, doctor?" he asked, when Sommers came back +to him in the evening. + +"I can't say," the doctor replied, with a smile. "You are a good deal +better off on this board floor than most of the typhoids in the camps, and +we will do the best we can. Shall I let your people know?" + +"No," the young fellow said slowly, his weak, white face endeavoring to +restrain the tears. "The old man is in a bad place--Uncle Brome, you +know--and I guess if it hadn't been for my damn foolishness in New York--" + +He went off into delirious inconsequence, and on the way back Sommers +stopped to telegraph Miss Hitchcock. A few days later he met her at the +railroad station, and drove her over to the camp. She was worn from her +hurried journey, and looked older than Sommers expected; but the buoyancy +and capability of her nature seemed indomitable. Sommers repeated to her +what Parker had said about not letting his people know. + +"It's the first time he ever thought of poor papa," she said bluntly. + +"I thought it might do him good to fight it out by himself. But loneliness +kills some of these fellows." + +"Poor Parker!" she exclaimed, with a touch of irony in her tone. "He +thought he should come home a hero, with flags flying, all the honors of +the season, and forgiveness for his little faults. The girls would pet him, +and papa would overlook his past. The war was a kind of easy penance for +all his sins. And he never reached Cuba even, but came down with +typhoid--due to pure carelessness, I am afraid." + +"That is a familiar story," the doctor observed, with a grim smile, +"especially in his set. They took the war as a kind of football match--and +it is just as well they did." + +"You are the ones that really know what it means--the doctors and the +nurses," Miss Hitchcock said warmly. + +"Here is our San Juan," Sommers replied dryly, pointing to the huddle of +tents and pine sheds that formed the hospital camp. + +After they had visited Parker Hitchcock, Sommers conducted her over the +camp. Some of the cots were occupied by gaunt figures of men whom she had +known, and at the end of their inspection, she remarked thoughtfully: + +"I see that there is something to do here. It makes me feel alive once +more." + +The next month, while Parker dragged slowly through the stages of the +disease, Miss Hitchcock worked energetically with the nurses. Sommers met +her here and there about the camp and at their hurried meals. The heat and +the excitement told upon her, but her spirited, good-humored mood, which +was always at play, carried her on. Finally, the convalescents were sent +north to cooler spots, and the camp was closed. Parker Hitchcock was well +enough to be moved to Chicago, and Sommers, who had been relieved, took +charge of him and a number of other convalescents, who were to return to +the West. + +The last hours of the journey Sommers and Miss Hitchcock spent together. +The train was slowly traversing the dreary stretches of swamp and +sand-hills of northern Indiana. + +"I remember how forlorn this seemed the other time--four years ago!" +Sommers exclaimed. "And how excited I was as the city came into view around +the curve of the lake. That was to be my world." + +"And you didn't find it to your liking," Miss Hitchcock replied, with a +little smile. + +"I couldn't understand it; the thing was like raw spirits. It choked you." + +"I think I understand now what the matter has always been," she resumed +after a little interval. "You thought we were all exceptionally selfish, +but we were all just like every one else,--running after the obvious, +common pleasures. What could you expect! Every boy and girl in this country +is told from the first lesson of the cradle, over and over, that success is +the one great and good thing in life. The people here are young and strong, +and you can't blame them if they interpret that text a little crudely. But +I am beginning to understand what you feel." + +"We can't escape the fact, though," Sommers responded. "Life must be based, +to a large extent, on gain, on mere living. Nature has ordered it." + +"Only in cases like yours," she murmured. "_I_ can never free myself +from the order of nature. I shall always be the holder of power accumulated +by some one else." + +As Sommers refrained from making the platitudinous reply that such a remark +seemed to demand, they were silent for several minutes. Then she asked, +with an air of constraint: + +"What will you do? I mean after your visit to us, for, of course, you must +rest." + +Sommers smiled ironically. + +"That is the question every one asks. 'What will you do? what will you do?' +Suppose I should say _'Nothing'_? We are always planning. No one is +ready to wait and turn his hand to the nearest job. To-morrow, next month, +in good time, I shall know what that is." + +"It puts out of the question a career, personal ambition." + +"Yes," he answered quickly. "And could you do that? Could you care for a +man who will have no career, who has no 'future'?" + +Sommers's voice had taken a new tone of earnestness, unlike the sober +speculation in which they had been indulging. Miss Hitchcock turned her +face to the faded landscape of the suburban fields, and failed to reply. + +"I have lived out my egotism," he continued earnestly. "What you would call +ambition has been dead for long months. I haven't any lofty ambition even +for scientific work. Good results, even there, it seems to me, are not born +of personal desire, of pride. I am content to be a failure--an honest +failure," he ended sharply. + +"Don't say that!" she protested, looking at him frankly. "I shall never +agree to that." + +The people around them began to bestir themselves with the nervous +restlessness of pent-up energy. Parker Hitchcock came into the car from the +smoking-room. + +"We can get off at Twenty-second Street," he called out eagerly. "You're +coming, doctor?" + +Sommers shook his head negatively, and Miss Hitchcock, who was putting on +her veil, did not urge him to join them. The Hitchcock carriage was waiting +outside the Twenty-second Street station, and, as the train moved on, +Sommers could see Colonel Hitchcock's bent figure through the open window. + +When Sommers left the train at the central station, the September twilight +had already fallen; and as he crossed the strip of park where the troops +had bivouacked during the strike, the encircling buildings were brilliantly +outlined in the evening mist by countless points of light. The scene from +Twelfth Street north to the river, flanked by railroad yards and grim +buildings, was an animated circle of a modern inferno. The cross streets +intersecting the lofty buildings were dim, canon-like abysses, in which +purple fog floated lethargically. The air was foul with the gas from +countless locomotives, and thick with smoke and the mist of the lake. And +through this earthy steam, the myriad lights from the facades of the big +buildings shone with suffused splendor. It was large and vague and, above +all, gay, with the grim vivacity of a city of shades. Streams of people +were flowing toward the railroad, up and down the boulevard, in and out of +the large hotels. A murmur of living, striving humanity rose into the murky +air; and from a distance, through the abysses of the cross streets, sounded +the deeper roar of the city. + +The half-forgotten note of the place struck sharply upon the doctor's ear. +It excited him in some strange way. Two years had dropped from his life, +and again he was turning, turning, with the beat of the great machine. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +"Yes, he lost that--what was left when you sold for him," Miss M'Gann +admitted dejectedly. "And so we had to start over again. Part of it was +mine, too." + +"Did he put your savings in?" Sommers asked incredulously. + +"It was that Dresser man. I wish we'd never laid eyes on him--he kept +getting tips from Carson, the man who owned most of his paper. I guess +Carson didn't take much interest in giving _him_ the right tip, or +perhaps Dresser didn't give _us_ what he knew straight out. Anyway, +Jack's been losing!" + +"So you aren't married?" Sommers asked. + +"Jack's pride is up. You see he wanted to begin with a nice flat, not live +on here in this boarding-house. And I was to leave the school. But I guess +there isn't much chance _now_. You've been away a long time--to the +war?" + +They were sitting on the steps of the Keystone, which at this hour in the +morning they had to themselves. Miss M'Gann's glory of dress had faded, +together with the volubility of her talk, and the schoolroom air had +blanched her high color. + +"Jack wanted to go off to Cuba," she continued. "But he got sick again, +worrying over stocks, and I guess it was just as well. If he don't keep +straight now, and brace up, I'll let him go. I'm not the one to hang around +all my life for a silly." + +"Perhaps that's what made him try the market again," Sommers suggested. + +"No, it was Dresser. He was sporting a lot of money and going with +high-toned folks, and it made Jack envious." + +"You had better marry him, hadn't you?" + +Miss M'Gann moved uneasily on the stone seat. + +"He's down there again to-day, I just know. He's given up the Baking Powder +place,--they crowded him out in the reorganization,--and Dresser got him a +place down town." + +"Do you mean he's at the broker's?" + +Miss M'Gann nodded and then added: + +"Do you remember Dr. Leonard? Well, he made a pile out of a trust, some +dentist-tools combine, I think." + +"I am glad of it," Sommers said heartily, "and I hope he'll keep it." + +"Are you going to stay in Chicago?" Miss M'Gann asked, with renewed +curiosity. "We shall be glad to see you at the Keystone." + +Sommers got up to leave, and asked for Webber's address in the city. "I may +look him up," he explained. "I wish you could keep him away from Dresser. +The converted socialist is likely to be a bad lot." + +"Socialist!" Miss M'Gann exclaimed disdainfully. "He isn't any socialist. +He's after a rich girl." + + * * * * * + +Sommers left Miss M'Gann with a half-defined purpose of finding Webber and +inducing him to give up the vain hope of rivalling the editor of _The +Investor's Monthly_. He had always liked the clerk, and when he had +helped to pull him out of the market without loss before, he had thought +all would go well. But the optimism of the hour had proved too much for +Webber's will. Carson's cheap and plentiful stocks had made it dangerously +easy for every office boy to "invest." If Webber had been making money +these last months, it would be useless to advise him; but if the erratic +market had gone against him, he might be saved. + +On the way to the city he called at St. Isidore's to see if any one in that +hive would remember him. The little nurse, whom he recalled as one of the +assistants at Preston's operation, had now attained the dignity of the +"black band." There was hardly any one else who knew him, except the +elevator boy; and he was leaving when he met Dr. Knowles, an old physician, +who had a large, old-fashioned family practice in an unfashionable quarter +of the city. Dr. Knowles had once been kind to the younger doctor, and now +he seemed glad to meet him again. From him Sommers learned that Lindsay had +about given up his practice. The "other things," thanks to his intimacy +with Porter, and more lately with Carson, had put him outside the petty +needs of professional earnings. Dr. Knowles himself was thinking of +retiring, he told Sommers, not with his coffers full of trust certificates, +but with a few thousand dollars, enough to keep him beyond want. They +talked for a long time, and at the end Dr. Knowles asked Sommers to +consider taking over his practice. "It isn't very swell," he explained +good-humoredly. "And I don't want you to kill off my poor patients. But +there are enough pickings for a reasonable man who doesn't practise for +money." Sommers promised to see him in a few days, and started for the +office where Webber worked. + +Lindsay's final success amused him. He had heard a good deal about Porter +and Carson; their operations, reported vaguely by the public, interested +him. They formed a kind of partnership, evidently. Porter "financed" the +schemes that Carson concocted and talked into being. And a following of +small people gleaned in their train. Lindsay probably had gleaned more than +the others. It was all the better, Sommers reflected, for the state of the +medical profession. + +As he sauntered down La Salle Street, the air of the pavement breathed the +optimism of the hour. Sommers was amazed at the number of brokers' offices, +at the streams of men going and coming around these busy booths. The war +was over, or practically over, and speculation was brisker than ever. To be +sure, the bills for the war were not paid, but success was in the air, and +every one was striving to exploit that success in his own behalf. Sommers +passed the blazing sign of WHITE AND EINSTEIN; the firm had taken larger +offices this year. Sommers stopped and looked at the broad windows, and +then, reflecting that he had nothing to do before dining with the +Hitchcocks except to see Webber, he went in with a file of other men. + +White and Einstein's offices were much more resplendent than the little +room in the basement, where they had started two years before. There were +many glass partitions and much mahogany-stained furniture. In the large +room, where the quotations were posted, little rows of chairs were ranged +before the blackboards, so that the weary patrons could sit and watch the +game. The Chicago stocks had a blackboard to themselves, and this was +covered with the longest lines of figures. Iron, Steel, Tobacco, Radiators, +Vinegar, Oil, Leather, Spices, Tin, Candles, Biscuit, Rag,--the names of +the "industrials" read like an inventory of a country store. "Rag" seemed +the favorite of the hour; one boy was kept busy in posting the long line of +quotations from the afternoon session of the Exchange. A group of +spectators watched the jumps as quotation varied from quotation under the +rapid chalk of the office boy. + +The place was feverish with excitement, which Sommers could feel rather +than read in the dull faces of the men. From time to time White or Einstein +bobbed out of an inner office, or a telephone booth, and joined the +watchers before the blackboards. Their detached air and genial smiles gave +them the appearance of successful hosts. White recognized Sommers and +nodded, with one eye on the board. "Rag's acting queer," he said casually +in the doctor's ear. "Are you in the market? Rag is Carson's latest--ain't +gone through yet, and there are signs the market's glutted. Look at that +thing slide, waltz! Gee, there'll be sore heads to-morrow!" + +Sommers leaned forward and touched Webber, who, with open mouth, was +following the figures. Webber turned round, but his head went back to the +board. The glance he had given was empty--the glance of the drunkard. + +"Your young friend's got hit," White remarked apathetically. "He shouldn't +try to play marbles with _this_ crowd. Carson is just chucking new +stocks at the public. But he has a clique with him that can do anything." + +In spite of this opinion "Rag" tottered and wavered. Rumors rapidly spread +among the onlookers that Carson had failed to put "Rag" through; that the +consolidated companies would fall asunder on the morrow, like badly glued +veneer; that Porter "had gone back on Carson" and was selling the stock. +The quotations fell: common stock 60, 59, 56, 50, 45, 48, 50, 52, 45, +40--so ran the dazzling line of figures across the blackboard, again and +again. + +"There'll be fun to-morrow," White remarked, moving away. "Better come in +and see Vinegar and Oil and the rest of Carson's list get a black eye." + +Sommers touched Webber, then shook him gently, asking, + +"What is it this time? Iron and Distillery?" + +"Rag," Webber snapped, recognizing the doctor. "And I'm done for this time +sure thing--_every red copper_. I made two thousand last week on Tin, +and this morning I chucked the whole pile into Rag." + +"You'd better come with me," Sommers urged. "The Exchange is closing for +to-day, anyway." + +The clerk laughed, and replied: "Let's have a drink. I've just got enough +to get drunk on." + +"You're drunk already," the doctor answered gruffly. + +"I'll be drunker before the morning," the clerk remarked, with a feeble +laugh. "I wish I had Dresser here; I'd like to pound him once." + +That desire was repeated in the looks of many men, who were still glowering +at the afternoon's quotations. Carson, the idol of the new "promotions," +seemed to be the man most in demand for pounding. Einstein was explaining +to a savage customer why he had advised him to buy "Rag." + +"I got it over the telephone this morning from a man very close to Carson +that Rag was the thing, the peach of the whole lot. He said it was slated +to cross Biscuit to-day." + +The man growled and ground a cigar stub into the floor. + +"Come, we'll have a drink," a white-faced young fellow called out to an old +man, an acquaintance of the hour. "Somebody's got my money!" The two passed +out arm in arm. + +Webber had his drink, and then another. Then he leaned back in the +embrasure of the bar-room window and looked at Sommers. + +"I guess it's the lake this time. I can't go back to her and tell her it's +all up." + +Sommers watched the man closely, trying to determine how far the disease +had gone. Webber's vain, rather weak face was disguised with a beard, which +made him look older than he was, and the arm that rested on the table +trembled nervously from the flaccid fingers to the shoulder-blades. + +"They've put up some trick between them," Webber continued, in a grumbling +tone. "Carson or Porter is making something by selling Rag. They'd ought to +be in the penitentiary." + +"What rot!" Sommers remarked deliberately. "They've beaten you at your +game, and they will every time, because they have more nerve than you, and +because they know more. There's no use in damning them. You'd do the same +thing if you knew when to do it." + +"They're nothing but sharps!" the clerk protested feebly, insistent like a +child on his idea that some one had done him a personal injury. + +Sommers shrugged his shoulders in despair. "I must be going," he said at +last. "I don't suppose you'll take my advice, and perhaps the lake would be +the best thing for you. But you'd better try it again--it's just as well +that everything has gone this time. There won't be any chance of going back +to the game. Tell her, and if she'll take you, marry her at once, and start +with the little people. Or stay here and have a few more drinks," he added, +as he read the irresolute look upon Webber's face. + +The clerk rose wearily and followed the doctor into the street, as if +afraid of being alone. + +"You needn't be so rough," he muttered. "There are lots of the big fellows +who started the same way--in the market, wheat or stocks. And I had a +little ambition to be something better than a clerk. I wanted her to have +something different. She's as good as those girls Dresser is always talking +to her about." + +Sommers made no reply to his defence, but walked slowly, accommodating his +pace to Webber's weary steps. When they reached Michigan Avenue, he stopped +and said, + +"I should put the lake off, this time, and make up my mind to be a little +fellow." + +Webber shook hands listlessly and started toward the railroad station with +his drooping, irresolute gait. Sommers watched him until his figure merged +with the hurrying crowd. Habit was taking the clerk to the suburban train, +and habit would take him to the Keystone and Miss M'Gann instead of to the +lake. Habit and Miss M'Gann would probably take him back to his desk. But +the disease had gone pretty far, and if he recovered, Sommers judged, he +would never regain his elasticity, his hope. He would be haunted by a +memory of hot desires, of feeble defeat. + +The wavering clerk had succumbed to the mood of the hour. And the mood of +the hour in this corner of the universe was hopeful for weak and strong +alike. Cheap optimism, Sommers would have called it once, but now it seemed +to him the natural temper of the world. With this hope suffused over their +lives, men struggled on--for what? No one knew. Not merely for plunder, nor +for power, nor for enjoyment. Each one might believe these to be the gifts +of the gods, while he kept his eyes solely on himself. But when he turned +his gaze outward, he knew that these were not the spur of human energy. In +striving restlessly to get plunder and power and joy, men wove the +mysterious web of life for ends no human mind could know. Carson built his +rickety companies and played his knavish tricks upon the gullible public, +of whom Webber was one. Brome Porter rooted here and there in the +industrial world, and fattened himself upon all spoils. These had to be; +they were the tools of the hour. But indifferent alike to them and to +Webber, the affairs of men ebbed and flowed in the resistless tide of fate. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The dinner at the Hitchcocks' was very simple. Parker had gone out "to +enjoy his success in not getting to Cuba," as Colonel Hitchcock expressed +it grimly. The old merchant's manner toward the doctor was cordial, but +constrained. At times during the dinner Sommers found Colonel Hitchcock's +eyes resting upon him, as if he were trying to understand him. Sommers was +conscious of the fact that Lindsay had probably done his best to paint his +character in an unflattering light; and though he knew that the old +colonel's shrewdness and kindliness would not permit him to accept bitter +gossip at its face value, yet there must have been enough in his career to +lead to speculation. While they were smoking, Colonel Hitchcock remarked: + +"So you're back in Chicago. Do you think you'll stay?" + +Sommers described the offer Dr. Knowles had made. + +"I used to see Knowles,--a West Side man,--not very able as a money-getter, +I guess, but a good fellow," Colonel Hitchcock emitted meditatively. + +"He has a very commonplace practice," Sommers replied. "An old-fashioned +kind of practice." + +"Do you think you'll like Chicago any better?" Colonel Hitchcock asked +bluntly. + +"I haven't thought much about that," the doctor admitted, uncomfortably. He +felt that the kind old merchant had lost whatever interest he might have +had in him. Any man who played ducks and drakes with his chances in life +was not to be depended upon, according to Colonel Hitchcock's philosophy. +And a man who could not be depended upon to do the rational thing was more +or less dangerous. It was easier for him to understand Parker's defects +than Sommers's wilfulness. They were both lamentable eccentricities. + +"Chicago isn't what it was," the old man resumed reminiscently. "It's too +big, and there is too much speculation. A man is rich to-day and poor +to-morrow. That sort of thing used to be confined to the Board of Trade, +but now it's everywhere, in legitimate business. People don't seem to be +willing to work hard for success." He relapsed into silence, and shortly +after went upstairs, saying as he excused himself,--"Hope we shall see you +again, Dr. Sommers." + +When Colonel Hitchcock had left the room, Miss Hitchcock said, as if to +remove the sting of her father's indifference: + +"Uncle Brome's transactions worry papa,--for a time papa was deeply +involved in one of his schemes,--and he worries over Parker, too. He +doesn't like to think of--what will happen when he is dead. Parker will +have a good deal of money, more than he will know what to do with. It's +sad, don't you think so? To be ending one's life with a feeling that you +have failed to make permanent your ideals, to leave things stable in your +family at least?" + +Instead of replying Sommers left his chair and walked aimlessly about the +room. At last he came back to the large table near which Miss Hitchcock was +seated. + +"You know why I came to-night," he began nervously. + +Miss Hitchcock put down the book she held in her hands and turned her face +to him. + +"Will you help me--to live?" he said bluntly. + +She rose from her seat, and, with a slight smile of irony, replied, + +"Can I?" + +"The past,--" Sommers stammered. "You know it all better than any one +else." + +"I would not have it different, not one thing changed," she protested with +warmth. "What I cannot understand in it, I will believe was best for you +and for me." + +"And the lack of success, the failure?" Sommers questioned eagerly; a touch +of fear in his voice. "I am asking much and giving very little." + +"You understand so badly!" The smile this time was sad. "I shall never know +that it is failure." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Miss Hitchcock's wedding was extremely quiet. It was regarded by all but +the two persons immediately concerned as an eccentric mistake. Even Colonel +Hitchcock, to whom Louise was almost infallible, could not trust himself to +discuss with her, her decision to marry Dr. Sommers. It was all a sign of +the irrational drift of things that seemed to thwart his energetic, +honorable life. Even Sommers's attitude in the frank talk the two men had +about the marriage offended the old merchant. Sommers had met his distant +references to money matters by saying bluntly that he and Louise had +decided it would be best for them not to be the beneficiaries of Colonel +Hitchcock's wealth to any large extent. He wished it distinctly understood +that little was to be done for them now, or in the future by bequest. +Louise had agreed with him that for many reasons their lives would be +happier without the expectation of unearned wealth. He did not explain that +one potent reason for their decision in this matter was the hope they had +that Colonel Hitchcock would realize the futility of leaving any +considerable sum of money to Parker, and would finally place his money +where it could be useful to the community in which he had earned it. +Colonel Hitchcock rather resented the doctor's independence, and, at the +same time, disliked the direct reference to his fortune. Those matters +arranged themselves discreetly in families, and if Louise had children, +why.... + +It did not take Louise and Sommers long, however, to convince Colonel +Hitchcock that they were absolutely sincere in their decision, and to +interest him in methods of returning his wealth, at his death, to the +world. As the months wore on, and Sommers settled into the peaceful routine +of Dr. Knowles's mediocre practice, Colonel Hitchcock revised, to a certain +extent, his judgment of the marriage. It must always remain a mystery to +him, however, that the able young surgeon neglected the brilliant +opportunities he had on coming to Chicago, and had, apparently, thrown away +four years of his life. Probably he attributed this mistake to the young +doctor's ignorance of the world, due to the regrettable fact that Dr. Isaac +Sommers had remained in Marion, Ohio, instead of courting cosmopolitan +experiences in Chicago. When his grandchild came, he saw that Louise was +entirely happy, and he was content. Neither Louise nor Sommers looked back +into the past, or troubled themselves about the future. The practice which +Dr. Knowles had left, if not lucrative, was sufficiently large and varied +to satisfy Sommers. + +Brome Porter had transferred all his interests to New York. He had recouped +himself by selling "Rag" short before it was really launched and by some +other clever strokes of stock manipulation, and had undertaken at length +the much-needed trip to Carlsbad. The suspicion that Porter had won back +the money he owed to Colonel Hitchcock by a trick upon the small fry of +speculators, such as Webber, had its influence in the feeling which Sommers +and his wife had about the Hitchcock money. The last move of the "operator" +had made something of a scandal in Chicago, for many of Porter's friends +and acquaintances lost heavily in "Rag," and felt sore because "they had +been left on the outside." If Porter was not in good odor in Chicago, +Carson's name was anathema, not only to a host of little speculators, who +had followed this ingenious promoter's star, but to substantial men of +wealth as well. After the first flush of optimism, people began to examine +Carson's specialties, and found them very rotten. Carson, and those who +were near him in these companies, it turned out, had got their holdings at +low figures and made money when those not equally favored lost. When "Rag" +went to pieces, it was rumored that Carson had been caught in his own leaky +tub; but, later, it turned out that Carson and Porter had had an +understanding in this affair. "Rag" was never meant to "go." So Carson +betook himself to Europe, and the great Sargent was removed from public +exhibition to a storage warehouse. In some future generation, on the +disintegration of the Carson family, the portrait may come back to the +world again, labelled "A Soldier of Fortune." + +Sommers met Dr. Lindsay at rare intervals; the great specialist treated him +with a nice discrimination of values, adjusting the contempt he felt for +the successor of Dr. Knowles to the respect he felt for the son-in-law of +Colonel Alexander Hitchcock. Report had it that Lindsay had been forced to +return to office practice after virtually retiring from the profession. +And, in the fickle world of Chicago, the offices on the top floor of the +Athenian Building did not "take in" what they once had gathered. For this +as well as other reasons Sommers was not surprised when his wife opened +Miss Laura Lindsay's wedding cards one morning, and read out the name of +the intended bridegroom, _Mr. Samuel Thompson Dresser_. + +"Shall we go?" Louise asked, scrutinizing the cards with feminine keenness. + +"I have reasons for not going," Sommers answered hesitatingly. "But you +used to know Laura Lindsay, and--" + +"I think she will not miss me," Louise answered quickly. "It was queer, +though," she continued, idly waving the invitation to and fro, "that a girl +like Laura should marry a man like Dresser." + +"Did I ever hear you say that it was to be expected that Miss Blank should +marry Mr. Blank?" her husband asked. "In this case I think it is +beautifully appropriate." + +"But he was not exactly in our set, and you once said he was given to +theories, was turned out of a place on account of the ideas he held, didn't +you?" + +"He has seen the folly of those ideas," Sommers responded dryly. "He has +become a bond broker, and has a neat little office in the building where +White and Einstein had their trade." + +"Well," Mrs. Sommers insisted, "Laura never was what you might call +serious." + +"She has taught him a good deal, though, I have no doubt." + +Mrs. Sommers looked puzzled. + +"As other excellent women have taught other men," the doctor added, with a +laugh. + +"What shall we send them?" his wife asked, disregarding the flippancy of +the remark. + +"A handsomely bound copy of the 'Report of the Commission to Examine into +the Chicago Strike, June-July, 1894.'" + +As Louise failed to see the point, he remarked: + +"I think I hear your son talking about something more important. Shall we +go upstairs to see him? I must be off in a few minutes." + +They watched the little child without speaking, while he cautiously +manipulated his arms and interested himself in the puzzle of his own +anatomy. + +"What tremendous faith!" Sommers exclaimed at last. + +"In what?" + +"In the good of it all--in life." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Web of Life, by Robert Herrick + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEB OF LIFE *** + +This file should be named webol10.txt or webol10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, webol11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, webol10a.txt + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Eric Eldred +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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