father and Mr. Penway came to visit me at school; they quickly told me
what the plans were, and for me to go on with a repetition of the details
would only bore you. Mr. Penway made love to me in a manner that I then
supposed was perfectly correct, but I have since been led to believe
that his manner courtship was stereotyped, but it made no difference. I
was the price of a home and a fortune, I saw it all; if I refused, my
father’s years of labor would be lost, and he would be penniless and my
mother homeless. I felt as though children were brought into the world
much the same as horses, cattle and hogs, that a fixed sum might be
realized on them.
“We were married in a hotel in St. Louis. All of the luxuries were
supplied, gowns of rarest and most exquisite texture, and as I rudely
told one of my bridesmaids, every article was there which is needed at a
first class funeral except the casket and hearse.
“Music, ushers with stately tread, presents and flowers, great clusters
of potted plants, waving ferns, roses, pure white lilies, narcissus,
orange blossoms, loads of each, in full view; yes, and wrapped in a
bit of white silk, nestled inside my clothing next to my heart, were a
handful of withered wild flowers, which during four years had kept fresh
in my memory.
“We went to Europe, spent the winter in sunny Italy. At times I did
imagine I was happy, then the ghost of something, I knew not what, arose
before me and all I could see was a contract, wherein so many dollars
in hand paid, had been exchanged for a human form, which was so like
ice that the purchaser could only gaze on his possession with a feeling
that he, at least, got it first hand, without it ever having been placed
on the bargain counter. I had no conception of what married life was,
and I fear my husband was a poor teacher. Many fine pictures and rare
ornaments found their way into the great pile of treasures and relics
which we gathered with no thought of cost. Mr. Penway was a connoisseur,
but not a lover. He was proud of me. I was introduced to many of the
noble families; I was catered to by those whose station in life was
apparently so far above me that I shuddered when I thought of a saw mill.
We returned from our trip abroad, only to be ushered into a house of
magnificence; that is, so far as grandeur was concerned. Servants to do
my bidding, carriages at my command; all, everything that money could
buy, but not one bit of love; not a word of that soul sustaining love.
“One year of this, and Mr. Penway was called to Europe again, this time
on business. I had been in regular correspondence with my parents, and
they insisted on my coming home for a visit during Mr. Penway’s sojourn
abroad. I went and for the first time in nearly six years met Lannie.
My first impulse was to throw myself into his arms, regardless of the
presence of my parents, but I managed to control myself. However, during
my stay there, I naturally roamed in the woods, through the mills; in
that way saw much of Lannie. Dear old Lannie. With the same clock-like
regularity he performed his duties; the same broad shoulders and the
same tender blue eyes. If time had wrought changes in him, it was for
the better. He seemed so mature with the full soft beard that covered
his face. His words were all uttered in kindness. I asked my parents
about him, and they told me how he had applied himself to my father’s
interests, not losing a day from the confining duties of business and
labor; in fact, he was the mainstay. If the head sawyer was sick or off
duty, Lannie laid the master hand on the lever and the saws and the
dust flew as the lumber piles grew higher and higher. If the engineer
or fireman was absent, it was Lannie’s touch that put the machinery
in motion, and his willing hands that heaved the great slabs into the
furnace to make the steam. If any of the little colony were sick and
needed attention, it was Lannie who kept the lonely vigil through the
dark and solemn hours of blackest night, and when morning came he, mighty
as the sun, shone all day, beaming with good nature; and when (as was
often the case) the fever so prevalent in the swamps claimed a victim, it
was Lannie’s gentle hands that folded the arms across the quiet breast
and closed the staring eyes. It was his soothing, reassuring words which
brought comfort to the poor mother whose heart bled in sorrow for her
darling child; it was Lannie who would put his great, strong arms around
the father and husband, as the clods fell with that sickening thud on
the rough box that contained all that was left of the dearest treasure
they had ever known; again, it was Lannie who took into his arms the
fatherless children and told them that the father of all was God. In
this way Lannie had lived, pouring out the generous love of his great
warm nature, while I—Ugh! I shudder to think of it. I had been encased
in a sheet of ice trying to freeze my emotion, trying to smother my
heart throbs, lest, like some wild beast which in search of freedom and
prey, plunges through the iron bars of its cage, it would bound through
my breast, tearing and breaking the cords and crushing the coat of mail
beyond repair.
“Is it any wonder that that very thing occurred? Are you surprised to
learn that my poor, heavy, tugging heart was torn by force from the
delicate tendrils and with one wild plunge left the enclosure which it
had so long occupied? With a suddenness born of despair, I packed and
left, no one knew why, and I was too proud and self-reliant to tell.
“I arrived home only to undergo days of torture and nights of sobbing
misery. In about a week after my arrival I had a letter from my mother
saying that Lannie was going to leave them. He had, by his frugal
methods, saved a tidy sum, and, true to the teachings of the lumber camp,
had invested in a tract of land, which at the time of purchase was almost
valueless, but recently a railroad had been surveyed and was now being
built through his broad acres, and Lannie was a rich man. He was coming
to Chicago to buy machinery and set up in business of his own, and of
course Lannie had been so good and nice always that he seemed just like
one of the family, and if it was not too much trouble and embarrassment
to have a countryman around, it would be nice for me to ask Lannie to
spend a part of the time during his stay in the city at my house, etc.
“Oh, joys of Heaven and earth! Lannie here, and in my house. Oh, Lannie,
Lannie! We can be all alone—with that thought some horrible, creeping
feeling seized me and I was soon dripping with cold perspiration. Horrors
upon horrors! No—no, I could never do that. The fury of Hell would be
visited upon me, just as sure as that temptation was put before me. What
could I do? For the first time since I was married I prayed. I asked God
to give me strength of mind and body to direct me as I should go. After
that I grew calmer, called my maid, instructed her to write my mother and
tell her that I had concluded to sail for Liverpool and join Mr. Penway.
Then we hurriedly began to pack. To get away—get away, run, fly, anything
to escape that which was bound to overtake me if I stayed, was the only
thought of my mind.
“Luncheon was served early. The train for New York left at three p.m.
I would have time to send a cablegram to Mr. Penway, buy a few little
trifles and then as fast as steam could carry me I would go from the gulf
which seemed about to swallow me.
“I had just left the dining room, as the bell rang. The butler announced
a gentleman. I felt a pallor spread from my face to my neck; my breast
felt clammy; the flesh on my arms seemed to crawl; my usually plump hand
looked pale and thin, as I tremblingly took the card. My voice frightened
me as I said ‘Not in’ to the waiting statue of ebony, at the same time
tossing the little card onto a table without looking at it. It went short
of the mark and as it fluttered to the floor turned over, my eyes were
fastened on the name, ‘Landrie Grayson.’
“Fever drove away the chill which had almost overcome me. No, no! I could
not do it! It was just as impossible for me to turn Lannie away then as
it is now to bring him back. With a bound, I was in the hall; the next
leap put me alongside the stately, marching figure in livery; a dash and
I was pulling and tugging at the great door, then I looked into those
honest eyes of blue.
“‘I thought I would call on you, Ailene,’ said Lannie, as we entered the
drawing room.
“‘Yes, Lannie, it was so good of you to come; and now, Lannie, you must
be hungry. It is high noon, as you used to say,’ and without further ado
I rang and ordered dinner served at once, for I knew that the people at
home always had twelve o’clock dinner. That dinner was the best I ever
tasted in my life. How I changed in a few moments from a dull, heavy
hearted creature of nervous misery, back to the old happy stage of
girlhood. We had dinner, and I did not send my baggage away.
“When Lannie explained to me that he was stopping at a hotel, I said:
‘Lannie, you cannot stay at a hotel in Chicago; you must make this your
home.’
“‘No, Ailene, I will be busy, and could not think of putting you to any
inconvenience.’
“‘But, Lannie, please do stay here. I am⸺’ I did not finish my sentence.
I don’t think Lannie knew what I was about to utter. If he did know that
I was on the point of telling him that I was alone, he paid no attention
to it. Again that nightmare overcame me; I was speechless. Lannie thought
I was hurt or offended because he refused my hospitality.
“‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Ailene,’ he said. ‘We will go to some
theater tonight. I will spend tomorrow evening here with you and then we
will plan for the other days that I am to remain in the city.’
“In spite of the fact that some of my dearest friends and members of the
same social circle in which I moved attended the play that night and
indulged in not a little whispering and smiling as they turned their
eyes on us, I was proud. If Lannie did appear a little out of place, he
was dear, true Lannie, just the same. The spirit which I knew to be
encased in that noble character made up for all deficiencies in dress
and manners. Each act was well received by the vast audience. As for me,
the most interesting time of the performance was between acts, for it
was then I could talk to Lannie and hear his voice. I saw little of the
actors, for I was busy feasting my eyes on my companion. I studied his
eyes, his face, and his feelings as he drank in the scenes which were
enacted to the strains of music. That night my dreams were fraught with
visions of strong men, happy children and contented women.
“The next day dragged slowly enough, but at last, with happy delight,
I welcomed the hour of Lannie’s coming. We dined, I played and sang,
Lannie told me of all the things that had transpired since I had left
the forest. At eleven o’clock Lannie arose to go, all too soon for me. I
begged him to stay; I laid my hand on his arm and looking straight into
his strong, clear face, said: ‘Lannie, oh, Lannie, don’t you know that I
love you? Can’t you see that I am dying to be taken into your arms and
receive that strong yet tender embrace which I know awaits the woman you
love?’
“Poor Lannie! He was dumfounded; he was white as death; not a muscle
moved, not a word from those firm set lips; just a tender, pleading look
from the eyes which I loved so well.
“‘Lannie, speak to me,’ I cried. ‘Oh, dearest, give me some relief, say
some kind word to me or I shall surely die.’ I threw myself into his
arms. I pulled him down onto the divan and clung to him as though my
life depended upon it. Oh, the emotion of the soul! I sometimes think
that if the world knew what a woman must suffer at such times, it would
not be so unkind. I was wild, and when Lannie freed his hands from my
passionate clutch and tenderly lifted me from my knees to a position
beside him, my joy knew no bounds. Oh, to think that he had once again
taken me in his arms. Having gotten me to a position which seemed to
please him, he put his dear face to mine and kissed me. The flight
of time has never erased the memory of that thrill. Love, devotion,
strength, happiness, all, all I say, went surging through me like an
avalanche. ‘More, more, Lannie,’ I cried, and forgot all suffering as
I, in my reclining position, could see the shadow of his great form as
he bent over me again. I felt his burning lips on my brow, my cheek, my
lips twitched in their feverish desire to be blessed with that lingering
caress which is so soothing, yet so maddening. I think I must have
fainted, for when I opened my eyes, Lannie was gone.
“Next day I received a note from him saying good-bye, and that he would
not call again. A tigress is not easily held at bay. My blood was
aroused; my soul was fired. The lava was molten in the volcano and must
find its way through the crest, no matter how many souls perished in the
flood of fire. I was wild, methodically wild, and so determined was I in
my purpose that I wrote him a note saying:
“‘_Dear Lannie_:
“‘This leaves me sick abed; please come to me. Oh, Lannie, do;
I need you so much.
“‘YOUR OWN AILENE.’
“I went to my room, had my maid dress my hair carefully, then retired.
Moments seemed as hours; hours as days. I was feverish and delirious.
My maid insisted on calling a physician, but I would not hear to it. I
gave orders to be left alone. The breeze fanned the lace curtains at
the windows in a merry ripple; the soft mellow light of the setting sun
shed a glow of golden hue throughout the room. My temples throbbed, my
pulse fluttered, my eyes burned, as I bravely battled to kill time.
Then the thought: What if he should not come? Cold sweat took the place
of parching fever, and so I passed the early evening, going from one
paroxysm to another. At last the bell rang, then that voice as I heard
Lannie say, ‘Thank you,’ to the maid as she opened the door. My clean
white gown was badly rumpled, my well dressed hair was in a confusion of
disorder from the feverish tossing of the day, but I forgot all that; I
forgot my appearances, feelings, manners, everything, only that Lannie
was with me again. As he bent over my bed with anxious questions, I was
quite happy. Suddenly reaching out my arms, I clasped them around his
neck. Oh, the holy emotions, the rage of my love knew no master. I clung
to him; he tried to free himself, but no, no! I would rather have died
than give him up. Great, strong Lannie of Herculean strength, one who
could have held a horse, or felled an ox by a blow of his strong right
arm; one who could withstand the ravages of pestilence and disease; one
on whom weak men looked with that feeling of admiration born of awe; one
whose strength, broad judgment, and kindly temperament made him easily
the master of any and all situations. But with all his bravery and
fortitude, all his battles, all his years of duration, he had never been
called upon to wage war upon a woman whose soul was starving for the
loving caress, which is so dear to a lonely heart. He was as wax in my
hands, as I clutched him fiercely yet fondly. ‘Oh, Lannie, Lannie! say
that you love me,’ I cried, all the time raining kisses on his dear face,
while he acquiesced in mute silence. With his eyes dilated, his nostrils
distended, his lips drawn and white, he fought the silent battle which
led to his defeat. In his years of physical building he had never been
called upon to withstand the onslaught which I now brought to bear upon
him; he had never been drilled in the tactics necessary to repel the
attacks of passion. I could see my victory coming; the light of his eyes
told me that the world was fast melting away. Then suddenly he clasped me
to his dear self, saying, ‘Oh, Ailene, what is it? Why can I not go away
from you? Yes, little girl, I love you, I love you.’
“‘Kiss me, Lannie. There, dear; yes, that is right, Lannie! Hold me in
your arms. Now, dearest, we are happy.’
“Then, while tears of joy dimmed my eyes, in the madness of passion, my
future was molded. As the poisonous little reptile stings the lion, who
is king of the forest, and causes him to writhe in death’s agony, so
did the lecherous fangs of passion fasten themselves into poor Lannie’s
pure, white soul, sending the venomous poison into a heretofore healthful
system.
“If I could but live that hour over again. If I erred the sin was
tempered with love.
“I know, in the way that sins are reckoned,
This thought is a sin of the deepest dye;
But, I know, too, if an angel beckoned,
Standing close by the throne on high,
And you a-down by the gates infernal,
Should open your loving arms and smile,
I would turn my back on things supernal,
To lie on your breast a little while,
To know for an hour you were mine completely.
Mine in body and soul, my own—
I would bear unending tortures sweetly,
With not a murmur and not a moan.”
—_Wilcox._
“Lannie went away. Our parting was like the clinging vine being torn from
the stone wall. In ten weeks my husband arrived home. Ten days later he
was the victim of a railroad accident and I was left a widow. I waited
and longed for the love of my life, to take his place beside me, but
Lannie did not come. At last, in sheer desperation, I wrote him. This was
his answer:
“‘_Dear Friend_:
“‘I am pained to write you as I shall, but you cannot expect me
to come to you. You know my ideas of purity so well, that I am
surprised to be asked to call. I do love you, always have, and
shall continue to do so, but I fear the sweetness of our love
has been blighted by the madness of folly. This little verse is
very expressive, I think:
“A flower I feign would pluck today,
From the garden above her dust,
Not the pure, white lily of soulless sin,
Nor the blood-red rose of lust,
But the blossom of holy love.”
“‘I shall always be interested in your welfare and shall ever
seek to do you good. Yours devotedly,
“‘LANNIE.’
“The blow was cruel, but ‘As a man soweth, so shall he also reap.’ The
same applies to women.
“The next important event of my life was the announcement of the
insolvency of my husband’s estate. He had died leaving me penniless; even
the holdings my father had placed with him as security for his loan were
swept away into the chasm with the other unrecoverable assets.”
“But you live well.”
“Yes; that is all on account of Lannie. He seemed to know the condition
of Mr. Penway’s finances, and it was a tract of land that Mr. Penway
was forced to sell that Lannie bought. He built mills, homes for the
men, a comfortable home for my parents on his land, and when the crash
came, transferred them to it. Then he came to the city and arranged with
an attorney that I should have an annuity and I must accept it, the
conditions being that if I refused my mother and father would be asked to
relinquish their home. He bought this house, he pays the bills and I dare
not refuse until my parents have gone to their home above.”
“Not quite the same am I. My inner being
Reasons and knows that all is for the best.
Yet vague regrets stir always in my breast,
As my soul’s eyes turn sadly backward, seeing
The vanished self that evermore must be
This side of what we call eternity,
Not quite the same.”
TALE THREE.
A STORY OF THE CHICAGO GHETTO.
PUNISHMENT.
“Nor custom, nor example, nor vast numbers
Of such as do offend, make less the sin;
For each particular crime a strict account
Will be exacted; and that comfort, which
The damn’d pretend, follows in misery,
Takes nothing from their torments; every one
Must suffer in himself the measure of his wickedness.”
—_Massinger._
The wind howled, then carrying with it bits of paper, flurries of snow
and great quantities of smoke and soot, it seemed to sink into the
darkness with a dismal moan, which resembled the wailing of some great
wild beast in search of its mate.
Shops with their dim lights, which looked like tiny sparks clinging
to a black wall, lined the street; tin signs creaked and crashed like
miniature thunder; small pieces of shutters flopped against the sides of
the weather beaten houses, only to swing into the breeze with each fresh
gust, there to quiver on their rusty hinges until a weird, screeching,
grating sound denoted that age and elements were victors and one more
piece of some antiquated structure had cast anchor and would soon be used
to infuse warmth into the body of some poor, unfortunate dweller in the
immediate vicinity. The uncertainty of the board walks in this locality
caused the pedestrian, whose lot it was to venture here for the first
time, to use great care in setting down and picking up his feet.
Half-clad children were there; some with small and precious packages
of edibles clutched tightly in their begrimed and reddened hands, some
laboring with a plank, which on account of the frozen slush that stuck to
it, made it twice their weight; some fighting and sprawling in the filth
of the narrow street for the possession of a two-pound lump of coal, that
had been jostled from a wagon, while many of them clung tenaciously to
the threadbare, misfit garments in which they were clad, with an apparent
fear that the wind would use the tattered rags in whipping them to death.
The flickering rays of the few and irregular gas lamps which the city had
placed at long intervals, did not add cheer to the locality; they only
made it more possible for a stranger to realize to a greater extent the
squalor which existed there.
Such is a poorly drawn picture of the Ghetto of Chicago.
When compared to the commodious home on the lake front, with its coils of
pipes conducting steam into every nook and corner, making even the cellar
a place of comfort, the rich rugs, the substantial furnishing of oak and
mahogany, the bright lights, the dear little mother, the happy children,
the music, pictures and flowers, the well filled larder and comfortable
clothing we all enjoy, it is inclined to cause one to forget to complain.
It was no pleasant task, but it was a duty. I have set out to tell the
life story of twenty different women, and to get these stories from the
lips of the principals, it behooves me to appear to them in person, even
though at times I am compelled to freeze myself against all humanity;
and, again, so stirred with pity and aroused with sympathy, that I have
frequently come away from hovels with just enough change in my pockets
for car fare home.
This night, after searching for blocks and burning many matches in a vain
endeavor to find the number which I had been given, I was led to the
point of my investigation by an old man, who was on his way home from his
day’s begging and peddling. He was a kindly Hebrew. “Dis is de blace,”
said he, with an instinctive stretching out of the right hand, palm
upward. “Bud, meester, I don’t tink dey vill be ad home,” he added, as I
laid a half dollar in the still outstretched hand.
“Ah, oh vait! I vill see for you.”
With that he shambled around the side of the tumble-down house, while I
stamped my feet on the frozen cinders to keep up circulation, all the
time thinking the old man was correct, for there was no sign of life
anywhere about the house. Finally he came back.
“Yes, dey vas dere, but you see, meester, Saturday nights iss a bat time
to found ’em home.”
“Why?”
“Oh, it iss a goot time to find tings; so many grocery wagons on de
streets und der vas some stores vat gif de peebles de rotten cabbages,
und abbles und lots of vilted tings. You see, meester, we haf a hard time
to eat.”
The old man was an artist. His eyes shone with that everlasting thrift
so characteristic of his race, and somehow I could not get away without
handing him another quarter. Then, receiving his instructions as to
getting into the house, I took up that part of my labor. I managed to
keep myself separated from the piles of ashes and tin cans until I
reached a rear door. The house was on the corner and was a basement
affair, the first part being brick up to the level of the street, from
that on up to the top it was frame. The house had been built before the
street was filled in, so that when that operation took place one side and
one end of the brick wall, being the parts of the house that were exposed
to the street, had become submerged in a mixture of old bricks, pieces of
bottles, mud and other rubbish that was from time to time scraped off the
business portion of the street.
It was difficult to distinguish my hard and vigorous rapping from the
violent rattle of the door. Finally I heard a sound as though something
was being dragged across the floor, then the door was pulled half way
open and I was asked to enter.