saving some timid girl the embarrassment of assuming my place in the
world. I am sure I can do more to satisfy the whims of humanity than can
a novice, for I am a student of your school and your ideas are instilled
within me until I feel that my efforts will avail more than the efforts
of an inexperienced girl. Again, I am feeding and clothing myself and
our baby, and I love you. The world will, in part, frown upon me for the
part I am playing; others silently applaud me, and I congratulate myself
and feel, in a certain degree, I am a guardian angel and the precepts
inculcated by my conduct will be fittingly heralded to ears which will
transmit them to the heart with a good effect. I am doing what you might
not object to your divorced wife doing, but that which no man of high
honor would consent to his daughter doing.
“I am a model at the Art Institute. I pose in the nude, and I thank God
I am an honorable woman, and, in spite of all the years of suffering, I
am still devoted to the man who taught me to love. With thanks for your
inquiry, I beg to sign for this once,
“Your wife,
“NORA.”
TALE ELEVEN.
A STORY OF SUICIDE BRIDGE.
“Age cannot love destroy,
But perfidy can blast the flower,
Even when in most unwary hour,
It blooms in Fancy’s bower.
Age cannot love destroy,
But perfidy can rend the shrine
In which its vermeil splendors shine.”
It was a blustering winter day and a heavy snow was falling, making the
streets exceedingly disagreeable to traverse. State street was crowded
with shoppers evidently bent on taking advantage of the annual clearing
sale which always takes place at the beginning of the new year.
I was elbowing my way through the crowd on the east side of the street,
about as uncomfortable as a man could be, when I passed Kehoe’s. I had
not gone a dozen steps when it occurred to me that a cup of hot chocolate
would taste good. I turned abruptly and encountered an umbrella, which
flashed dangerously close to my eyes. Somewhat confused, I entered
the door behind a woman. She had pushed the door open and dropped her
skirts directly in front of me. It was too late for me to catch myself
and in less time than it takes to tell it, I had stepped on them. The
suddenness with which she let that door swing back was appalling. It took
me squarely on the nose, a fact which I do not now regret, inasmuch
as it led to a very pleasant acquaintance. She glanced around to learn
the cause of all the trouble and accepted my humble apologies with good
grace, and seemed to feel sorry when she saw her carelessness was the
cause of a great deal of suffering, for I could not well disguise the
fact as the tears ran down my cheeks.
All the tables but one were taken and that was a small one in the corner,
at which there were two chairs. She made her way to it quickly and when
she saw me waiting she sent the waitress to me to tell me to come to her
table. I bowed in response and crossed the room.
“I feel that I owe you some consideration for the unfortunate occurrence
of a few moments ago,” she said, “and I hope you’ll accept my apologies
in turn.”
I replied that it was my own stupidity and assured her that I already
began to feel it was rather a fortunate than unfortunate occurrence.
She smiled, yet at the same time drew herself up with a quiet dignity
that was unmistakable, and I knew I had taken the wrong tack when I made
my gallant speech.
By this time my eyes were somewhat cleaned of tears and I was able to get
a distant view of my vis-a-vis. I had already discovered that she was
of medium height and quite slender. Her face was oval, her eyes large
and brown, and looked liquid in the half light of our corner; her chin
was round, her mouth was rather large and when she smiled her full, red
lips disclosed a set of well kept teeth; her nose was neither long nor
short, but quite in keeping with the contour of her face. Her eyebrows
were dark and beautifully arched. Her forehead was high and full and an
abundance of real golden hair was drawn back and concealed under the
large, black beaver hat she wore so becomingly.
The real beauty of her face, however, was in its expression. Every
emotion was clearly defined in the wonderful eyes and, though when
smiling they would light up with a merry laughter, their general
expression was one of sweet sadness.
When I assisted her to remove her coat, can I be blamed for feasting my
eyes on the beautiful bust and shoulders with which nature had endowed
her?
We chatted idly on the topics of the day as we sipped our chocolate, and
when we had finished I handed her my card, saying, “If you ever need
services in my line, I shall be pleased to render them.”
She thanked me and said as she read “Attorney at Law,” “I might have been
grateful for your proffered aid a few years ago, but now, thank God, I do
not need such aid, and I hope I shall never need it.”
Then she handed me her card. “Mrs. Geoffrey Nye Melville.” As I read I
could not restrain the exclamation that arose to my lips.
“Why, I once had a friend by that name who was an official on the St.
Paul road. He and I were the best of friends in St. Paul five years ago.
I was at that time their attorney.”
“It is certainly my husband whom you know,” she said, “and you must come
and call on us at your earliest convenience.”
I thanked her and on the strength of my friendship for her husband asked
to escort her to the train.
I was not long in taking advantage of her invitation, and felt doubly
free to do so, inasmuch as her husband had hunted me up the very next day
after our meeting, and had insisted on my coming as soon as possible.
It happened that the night I called her husband was away, having been
unexpectedly summoned to St. Paul on business.
I found her alone and looking almost beautiful in the bright red crepe
gown she wore. Her skin was fair but pale and her cheeks reflected
just enough of the color to enhance the effect. We had a long talk on
generalities and gradually drifted to personalities.
“I am quite surprised at Geoffrey’s marrying again,” said I. “I had begun
to think him proof against the fair sex five years ago, and it seems to
me he added four more to that, with all due respect for you, my charming
hostess.”
“Well,” she sighed, “he might still have remained single had not he
met me in my forlorn condition, and I often think pity was the deepest
sentiment he felt until we had been married several months. Well, you
see, like most Chicago women, I have a story, and mine is a long one, but
probably not an unusual one.”
“Dare I presume to ask you for it, on the strength of my long friendship
for your husband?”
She was gazing dreamily into the grate and did not reply for a moment,
then she turned her glorious eyes toward me and said slowly, “Yes, I will
tell you if you think it will interest you.”
I assured her it would and asked her to proceed.
“I was married once before, too,” she said, “but was so unhappy that I
left my husband and secured a divorce on the grounds of cruelty. I was
granted a small alimony, enough to supply my modest wants.
“As time went on, I became rather dissatisfied with my quiet life and was
filled with a desire to enter the business world. It was just about this
time that a friend of mine, being too ill to go down town, asked me to do
an errand for her. It took me into an office building, and when I entered
the reception room I was told that the party for whom I inquired was not
in, but was expected soon, so I sat down and waited.
“While I was waiting a man came out of one of the private offices, and as
he saw me waiting he stopped and asked me whom I wished to see. When I
told him he asked me into his office to wait, saying I would find it more
pleasant there than in the reception room.
“As I think of it now, I wonder why I did not always adhere to my
first impression of him, which presented itself so forcibly. It must
have been fate, I guess. He was not at all handsome; he, in fact, was
homely, especially his mouth, which was too coarse, yet when he spoke
his countenance lighted up and there was an earnestness about him that
partially restored my confidence. He had a fine physique, a large,
brainy head, and carried himself with dignity. Well, we drifted into the
discussion of literature, and I found this was a well chosen subject, for
we were both deeply interested in it.
“After visiting an hour or more with him, I decided to wait no longer for
the man I had called to see, and I left. Not long after this my friend
called at the same suite of offices and she met Mr. Ferris. She seemed
very favorably impressed with him, so much so that she asked him to call,
and I must say that in spite of my prejudice I enjoyed the evening. He
called often after that and my friend said that he was in love with me.
I did not believe it at the time, probably because I was so utterly
indifferent to him at that time. He interested me greatly, however, for
many reasons, not least among which was the fact that he was in touch
with the business world and I thought I saw possibilities through him.
“It was not a month after this that he proposed to me. We were sitting on
the couch together, and I had been telling him of the unexpected visit of
a little friend of mine from Buffalo. He suddenly took my hand in his and
said, ‘Claire, I want you, and before anyone comes into this home to rob
me of you, I want your promise to be mine, all mine.’
“I felt within myself that he had endeared himself to me considerably,
but did not feel at all sure that I wanted to marry him, and told him so,
so we left the matter in that way, although I accepted his ring, but it
was with the understanding that if in the course of a few months I wished
to retract, I was at liberty to do so.
“On the following Wednesday Gretta came. Dear little Gretta. Pretty,
petite and winsome, so sweet yet so frivolous.
“I introduced Mr. Ferris to her and they soon became good friends; no one
could help being nice to her. I was slightly indisposed at this time and
was very glad that Ned could take her out, for it relieved me of the
burden of entertaining her, for a burden it was, in my present condition.
“One night, while I was confined to my room, she came to me and told me
that she loved Ned, and that she believed he loved her, for he had kissed
her and called her his dear little girl.
“As if by magic, the demon of jealousy reared his head and began to sting
me. I loved him now, I knew it, for I was unmistakably jealous. I was
jealous of a pretty, voluptuous, little doll, with no thought beyond her
present gratification, be it a new gown or a dinner, both of which she
enjoyed with all the fervor of her nature. They had not one thing in
common, unless it was their passionate natures. I tried to reason with
myself, to assure myself of the fact that a man of his calibre could not
really love so frivolous a creature as she; that it was merely a passing
fancy. But having been married, I knew a man’s nature so well, knew how
often a magnetic personality lured them on to mistakes fatal to the
happiness of both, that my theory of incompatibility was not altogether a
consolation.
“During this period of uneasiness, I did not mention the matter to him.
I was too proud to mention it to him, and felt it would be beneath my
dignity to admit that I had a possible rival in one so shallow. Perhaps
that is where I made my mistake; I don’t know.
“I tried to lull my suspicions to rest, but they would none of it, and
one night after they had gone to the theater I dragged myself wearily
down stairs to the library, which was off the parlor and separated from
it by heavy portieres. I became tired of reading at last and turned out
the gas and laid down determined to await their return and be convinced
that my suspicions were groundless, if possible; at least I wanted to
hear how he made love to her and decide for myself whether he meant it or
not.
“I must have fallen asleep, for the first thing I remember was his saying
in most pleading tones, ‘Come in here a moment, dear, and let me love
you, as only I can love you.’
“She danced into the darkened room beside him and he led her across it
to the large leather couch. He picked her up bodily and laid her on the
couch, and before she could demur, had she been so inclined, he was
bending over her and raining fervent kisses upon her and she nestled up
to him and sighed in an abandonment of ecstacy, fearing nothing, hoping
nothing, only living in the delight of the moment.
“I don’t know how I expected her to resist him; in fact, I’m sure I
didn’t. I would have saved her, but for the fact that I seemed as if in
a nightmare, unable to move or utter a sound. I lived hours in those
moments.
“After awhile I heard a sobbing. Then his voice, all tenderness and
commiseration, ‘There, there, dear, don’t cry. You are all right. Don’t
feel so badly; we are just human, and are no worse than hundreds of
others.’
“‘Humph!’ thought I, suffering though I was, ‘there is a great deal of
consolation in that!’
“Gradually the sobs ceased, and then he bade her good-night. I knew she
would not go into my room this night, so had no need to fear my absence
from my room would be discovered.
“What I suffered that night, only God knows. I laid there all night in my
misery, freezing and burning by turns. It seemed to me my hair must be
gray. My idol was shattered, it lay in fragments at my feet, but alas!
as with the shattered vase, round which the scent of the roses still
clung, so did the virtues with which I had endowed this being continue
to obtrude themselves to the complete obliteration of the crime he had
committed before my very eyes.
“At daybreak I went to my room and bathed my haggard face and tried to
make myself presentable, at least, to Gretta when she should come in to
see me. I had not decided what to do for the immediate present, only that
I would say nothing.
“Much to my surprise, Gretta came in beaming as usual, her volatile
spirits were incapable of more than momentary depression, and I wondered
vaguely if it could all be a horrible dream.
“Out of the chaos of my brain one idea resolved itself, and that was to
tell him all after she left, unless he, in his desire to right the wrong,
asked for his release.
“She went. A week passed and nothing was said, and I knew then nothing
would be said. He was going out of the city and I determined to tell him
about it on his return Sunday night.
“He came and after he had chatted awhile he got up and said he would go
out and order an ice sent up from the drug store around the corner. As
he bent to pick up his hat, a letter fell unnoticed from his pocket.
Perhaps I should not have done so, but I concealed it with my skirt until
he left the room. It was from Gretta, I found, and I have it yet,” she
said, as she crossed the room to the little inlaid writing desk, and took
from it a plain white envelope bordered in black.
“I am going to let you read it,” she said, handing it to me.
“Dearest Ned:—
“I am going to die, I am sure. I am grieving myself to death
over you. The sun never shines brightly any more and my heart
aches all the time now. I am disgraced, or soon will be. Oh,
Ned, come and take your poor, little Gretta away. Tell Claire
what you did and she is so good and sweet she will send you to
me, I know. Please take me away and marry me and I will tell
them all that we went to St. Joe and were married when I was
there visiting in Chicago. Come, dear, or I shall surely die. I
ordered this black bordered paper because I am sure mamma will
have use for it soon; anyway I am in mourning for the loss of
what even you, with all your tenderness, cannot give back to me.
“Come, Ned, for baby’s sake.
“Your heart broken
GRETTA.”
“When I had finished my head swam, and I felt but one mad desire, and
that was to fly. I acted on the impulse and after pinning a note to the
letter saying, ‘Ned, I knew some of this before, now I know all. I am
going away where you will never see me or hear from me again. You _must_
do your duty no matter what the sacrifice. A lifetime of devotion cannot
repay her for her loss.
CLAIRE.’
“I put on my hat and left by the side entrance. I had not the remotest
idea of where I was going or what I was going to do. I was numb with
agony and wandered aimlessly on until I came to a car line, then the
thought flashed across my mind to go to ‘Suicide Bridge,’ and thither I
went.
“It was yet early in the evening and many people were lingering in the
park. I walked onto the bridge with perfect calmness, the calmness of
despair (for what was there now to live for), and on to my fate. I walked
to the center of the bridge, as nearly as I can remember, and looking
carefully around and seeing no one, I climbed upon the railing and jumped.
“God must have raised up that man at that particular moment from mere
nothingness, for I was so sure I was the only one on the structure at the
time. He caught my skirt and by an almost superhuman effort drew me back
onto the bridge. He did not ask a question, but took me in his arms and
carried me until he met a policeman, to whom he said, ‘My wife became
dizzy and fainted. Please call a carriage.’
“He took me to the Virginia hotel, and when I had sufficiently recovered
to talk he said with decision, ‘I feel you were sent to me this night,
raised up from the ashes of my buried hopes, and if you are free to
marry I want you for my wife. I care not what your past has been or what
caused you to try such a rash act. Your sweet, refined face tells me
you are good and for the rest I care naught. I do not profess to love
you, neither do I expect you to love me, but we will try to make life
endurable together. You saved my life as much as I saved yours, for by
saving you I saved my own, for I went there tonight for the very purpose
of doing what you tried to do. Come now, what do you say?’ he said
earnestly.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said I was willing to try, and thank God that I did, for I have never
regretted it. We were married that night between eleven and twelve.”
“And what about Gretta?”
“Ned made what reparation he could; that is, he married her, and they
have a dear little Ned eight months old.”
TALE TWELVE.
TWO BABES AND TWO MOTHERS.
“They say best men are moulded out of faults;
And for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad.”
“Yes, we are very happy here.”
“That fact is very evident and, as I am out for a story today, I am going
to be so rude as to ask you if there is not some pain back of all this
peacefulness?”
The woman addressed drew herself up to her full height, which was little
more than five feet, while her gray eyes gleamed with the assurance of
complete possession of some article of value.
This woman was not handsome, in fact had she been placed in less
effective surroundings she would have been homely.
But she was good, although the fact that she had borne cares could not
well be concealed. It was her nature and intention to see the brightest
side of any object, and that trait in her character was so dominant that
it outshone her physical imperfections. The writer had known her a very
long time, and she had often promised him a story, so that it took but
little urging on his part to get her to talk of her past life.
“I was never a famous beauty, an actress, a singer of note, nor a rich
man’s daughter,” she said, by way of beginning. “I was a simple country
girl whose chief duties consisted in helping my mother wash, iron, churn
and pull weeds in the garden in the summer months, while the winter days
were whiled away by washing dishes, going to school, and if nothing of
greater importance came up for the evening, sewing carpet rags until bed
time.
“Such was the monotony of the life of Virginia Dawson. My father thought
little of the future, not that he failed to care, but that he failed to
see that the future held anything in store for him or his children. He
had been taught the lesson of frugality, the same being demonstrated by
poverty. It seems strange that a discovery of nature’s deposits would
be the turning point in my humdrum existence, but such was the case. My
parental home was but a few miles from the now busy city of Anderson,
Ind., and it was the finding of natural gas near our house that threw me
into the company of Arthur Blake. He was the son of wealthy parents and,
though all my sufferings are directly traceable to my early association
with him, I must say that he is one of the most noble of men. He came to
the community in which we dwelt as a civil engineer, having fancied that
profession more than any other. A firm of Boston capitalists had employed
him to investigate the extent and certainty of the gas belt. He was
instructed to keep his business quiet and to conceal his real identity.
To do this, he assumed the role of a laborer, going about and actually
toiling with the derricks, ropes and pipes just as though he was not an
heir to a large fortune.
“While thus engaged he came to our humble home to board. I was just such
a strip of awkward girlhood as any man might expect to find in a child
of the rural district.
“I know I was the most unsophisticated creature that ever lived. I knew
nothing of life outside the five-room house in which my parents had lived
for twenty years and in which I had been born nearly seventeen years
before I met Arthur Blake.
“He remained at our house for three months, and so refined and dignified
was he that he won a place in our hearts that was hard to fill by any
others. He was rather reticent and made few friends. My father was
dumfounded when one day Arthur proposed that he, my father, go and buy a
new buggy.
“‘What would I buy a buggy with and what for?’” asked my father.
“‘With this,’ said Arthur, as he handed father a roll of bills, ‘and for
my use. I shall have to do a great deal of driving. I will hire a horse
from you, but I want everyone to understand that the whole outfit is
yours.’
“So it was arranged, and it was generally said by less fortunate
neighbors that ‘Dawson must be makin’ money keepin’ boarders.’
“Then came a long series of drives over the broad expanse of the gas
fields. My parents did not object to my going with him, for he was very
considerate of my welfare. It was during these trips that I learned of
the beauties of nature. I soon became thrilled with the songs of birds,
the chirping of crickets and the humming of bees, none of which had held
any charms for me before. Plants that to me had always been known as
weeds now bore bright blossoms; the green leaves meant more to me. I saw
beauty in the undulating fields which I had always known as plain hills.
The whole world seemed to put on a new garment. You see that I was not
experienced enough to know that I saw everything with different eyes than
before. I did not know that a little word of four letters told all that
affected me, in fact I did not know what love meant until he told me, and
then I did not fully understand it until he was away from me for three
weeks.
“He went home, back to Pittsburg on a visit, and while he was gone the
brightness of the flowers faded. The frosts of October withered the
foliage, and the brown of the leaves seemed to resemble the solemnity
of my heart when I would walk along the well known paths with pleasant
memories in my mind. Every bush and tree seemed to add to the sentiment
with which my heart was filled and sobs choked me. The notes of the few
birds that had remained tempting fate by braving the elements were even
sobbing.
“Then he came back, and the glinting of the sunshine on the early morning
frost was not brighter than my life. After that he made real love to me,
and I have always thought he meant it. Our love was like that of many
others and led to grave indiscretions, and in due time I realized that I
was in serious trouble. I told Arthur and he said he would go back to his
father and get some money and come and marry me. Instead, he went away
and during those months of waiting my suffering was beyond description.
“I was finally forced to tell my parents. My mother wept herself sick;
father became morose and said little; my trouble became neighborhood
gossip; one old lady going so far as to say it was good enough and she
guessed most anybody could have a new buggy for that price.
“One day after my baby was born, a well dressed stranger called at our
house and asked for my father. He was a lawyer that Arthur had sent. He
had a great lot of papers he wanted us to sign, and after a long talk
with father, we signed them as directed. After that father seemed to get
along better; he was kinder to me and seemed to like the baby better. He
seemed to have more money and the first day of each month, rain or shine,
he went to town and nearly always brought mother and me a new dress or
some article of apparel that was most needed. He gave me money to buy
the baby’s clothes without a murmur, and took a more cheerful view of
everything.
“At last the land in our section became so valuable for the gas that was
under it that the little forty-acre tract on which my father had been a
tenant so long, was sold to a party of capitalists, and our occupation as
farmers was gone.