H. C. Chatfield-Taylor

“ Chicago has perhaps suffered unduly at the hands of cursory and captious critics, but its society should not be judged by a hastily written paragraph or the clanking chains of the parvenu's carriage. Whatever be its faults, and they are doubtless many, it is thoroughly American, and slow to accept the lax scepticism and hollow manners of the older world. It is still too young to be the home of art and letters, and still too sensible to breed idlers. Happy city, if its society could continue as it is, unaffected, progressive, and moral; but the naturalness of Chicago cannot endure forever ”

“ She thought of a ball-room, an exciting dance, and the magnetic impulse of a moment which had made life seem so sweet. Why had she resisted that temptation, she asked herself. The other course could not have made her more unhappy, and it, at least, was no more a mockery than her present life, with that love still burning fiercely to the wild accompaniment of Tzigan strains, echoing in her heart. "What is the use of being good?" she asked herself. Then she smiled a mocking answer, turned over on the lounge and buried her face in the cushions.
Florence watched Marion anxiously for a moment. ”

“ In society he had won his way to a leadership in not the best, but the best advertised, set in New York. The plunge into the cold torrent of Wall Street deception was sufficient to chill even a stronger optimistic ardor than Duncan's, but when he was carried on into the whirling, flashing eddies of smart society, only to be left shivering upon the cruel reefs of selfishness and debauchery, every chivalrous sentiment was gone, and when he gathered courage for the second plunge, it was as a designing, selfish disciple of utility. ”

“ Florence, too, wanted to be alone; but she could see no way to evade Duncan, and so she was left to talk to a man for whom she had an instinctive distaste.
"I see you are independent in society as well as in politics, Miss Moreland," Duncan said, as soon as Harold had left them.
"In what way?" she replied inquiringly.
"Instead of remaining here to be bored by bad music, you were independent enough to desert."
"Perhaps the bad music drove me away. Real independence cannot be driven."
"Even in that you are original; society is not driven, it meekly follows its leaders." ”

“ CHAPTER VIII. GATHERING CLOUDS.
"Are you going to the 'Renaissance Club' tea, Marion, dear?" said Florence Moreland, coming into the library on the afternoon following the "Patricians'" ball. Marion was sitting on the low front window seat, and she held a sash curtain crumpled in her hand. Her eyes were slowly following the numerous sleighs gliding up and down the Lake Shore Drive. The sun shone brightly on the glistening snow, the bells jingled merrily, and the waving plumes of graceful sleighs combined, with the rosy faces of their fur-clad occupants, to form a cheery winter picture. ”

“ It was just dark enough for the freshly lighted cigars to glow in the fading light. With the setting of the sun had come the silence evening casts over a busy city, and except the occasional croaking of a frog in the Club House lake, or the distant whistle of a locomotive, there was no sound to break the evening quiet. Away over by the long row of red-roofed stables a pair of work-horses were slowly dragging a harrow over the deserted race-course, and they and the laborer trudging behind them were the only evidences of life which Marion could see. ”

“ Society was there paraded in two rows of little pens, labeled and ticketed at so many millions per head, to be gazed upon by the curious and envious of that great throng. Society was the operatic side-show, and society paid dearly for the privilege of being seen.
"Do you like to be gazed at by a crowd, Mr. Grahame?" said Florence, after a momentary silence.
"Yes, I think I do," he replied. "It makes one feel so superior to be up above, looking down on the 'madding crowd'." ”

“ Marion cast an angry glance toward him. All the resentment in her nature was aroused by these coarse words. Her dream of months had vanished, and in its place was a repulsive reality.
Duncan came toward her with a confident step and tried to take her hand. Marion jumped to her feet and pushed him back. "Don't touch me," she cried.
Duncan laughed. This new-found anger amused him and he did not believe she was in earnest. "Marion, dearest, we are alone," he said ardently. "We can enjoy our love and no one will interrupt." ”

“ Marion felt her heart leap with gratitude when she heard these words. Her husband's voice had softened as he spoke them, and his eyes wore a sad, thoughtful expression.
"I don't think you are right," said Duncan, draining a glass of claret. "No one but a fool will permit a woman to go astray under his eyes, and a fool deserves to lose his wife."
As he spoke these words he looked toward Marion with an insinuating expression which told her that his remark was directed at Roswell, and that he expected her to appreciate the humor of it. Marion felt a sense of thankfulness rise in her heart. ”

“ The drag rolled away from the Club House, and swayed and rocked as Sedger let the horses gallop through the gates and along the little stretch of road leading to the park. The evening breeze blew softly against the faces of the party, and the coach rumbled along past the park lake, with the moonlight glistening on its surface, and the slender trees standing out grim and shadowy like huge phantoms guarding its banks. Then the team settled down to a steady pace, and through the dim light the leaders could just be seen huddling together, with their ears pricked up for every sound. ”

“ Other women pander to you, but I don't; other women love you, but I don't."
As Duncan listened to these words, a blush of anger came to his cheek. He thought of how strong had been his influence over other women, and how weak he had always been in Helen's hands. "After all, love is a game of strength," he mused. He had been no better than a ball to be tossed about at pleasure, but he would throw off the spell of this woman, which had bound him so fast—he who thought he knew the world so well. ”

“ We have all seen a manly young fellow go up to college. Full of life and vigor, he sees the world before him; but the thought of all its battles rouses no fear in his young heart, and, though his pranks are boyish and his manners rough, he stumbles good humoredly and persistently on into success. His upper classmen patronizingly smile upon him, while his natural enemy, the Soph, taunts and teases him, but is sometimes brought down and punished by his strong, young arms. Youthful, growing Chicago reminds one of this college boy. ”

“ Duncan looked full into Helen's face with an injured expression in his eyes. "Helen," he said finally, "'tis women like you who make us men distrust your sex; who make us what we are."
Helen returned his glance, and replied scornfully: "No; it is men like you who drag us down. We women must go through life armed, like travelers of old, against the attacks of you highwaymen. If we are weak, we are robbed of our best possessions, and left helpless by the way; if we are strong and ward off your attacks, you take your revenge on those who fall into your unscrupulous hands. ”

“ Florence replied.
"O, it is of no use. I am discontented by nature, I suppose. My ideals are too high, my realities too low. Success among people of rank, reputation, and intellect, is what I desire; a position among merchants, manufacturers, and shop-keepers is what I have. For intellectual variety I read a few papers before the Renaissance Club, and meet such occasional notables as stop over here long enough to view the stock-yards. I am the wife of a Chicago banker with all the prerogatives of that position, but nothing more, and with no prospect of being anything more." ”

“ Marion asked.
"Because all organism is a union of limitless atoms, which are brought together out of chaos by the attraction of similarity."
"That is a novel theory, but what has it to do with love?" she questioned.
"Love is the idealization of that theory. Man and woman are the most perfect blending of the atoms, and love is the transcendent union of their two natures."
"And is there no creator?" Marion asked.
"None but love. Love is the symbolism of the creative power; love is God." ”

“ A strong nature is able, at such times, to penetrate the future and select the wisest course, but it is far easier, and perhaps more natural, to drift aimlessly along, trusting to no other guide than fatuity. At moments a faint sense of fear feebly urged Marion to hold back, but wild fancies burned so impetuously in her heart that she was carried on past the point where she might have calmly considered the probable result of her conduct. ”

“ She had long before promised to take supper with Walter Sedger, who was to lead the cotillon; but when he appeared, she suggested that as Duncan was alone he had better join them. So the three wandered down-stairs and entered the supper-room. The weird Hungarian Czardas was being played by the Tzigans in the hallway, and it seemed to Marion that it did not harmonize with the clattering plates and the laughter. She had once heard that fantastic melody in Buda, and then it created strange sensations of unrest and aroused the wildest feelings of her nature. ”

“ Though not harassed by any scruples, she was too cold really to love, and too clever actually to compromise herself. But she was, however, sufficiently selfish to receive without giving, and sufficiently vain to enjoy the continued admiration of so scarred and complex a heart as Duncan's. She had been gifted with a peculiar insight into human character, and having studied the nature of man as a scientist might that of a mollusk, she felt that she understood every masculine vagary. ”

“ If Laura was an inspiration of Petrarch's soul, the poet has my admiration; if she was merely another man's wife with whom he was enamored,—no matter how delightfully he may have sung of her,—I lose respect for Petrarch."
"You have no appreciation of the beautiful, Florence."
"I appreciate the beautiful, but I also respect virtue. There is enough that is beautiful in this world but not enough that is good."
"O, you Philistine. How can you go on reading these exquisite lyrics and not soar above Puritan casuistry in the enjoyment of beauty for its own sake?" ”

“ Grahame?"
"I certainly will, as I cannot leave with the mercury of your manners so low."
"You surely do not fancy that you can make it rise."
"I do," he said confidently.
Marion looked at him scornfully, but it was an assumed scorn; as to herself she admitted a fondness for assurance like Duncan's. Florence Moreland would have called it presumption, but Marion felt that it indicated a strong nature worthy of careful analysis. Her manner was often the naïveté of inexperience. She fancied that she knew the world, but her knowledge was theoretically culled from her yellow-covered romances. ”

“ It was their first dance together, and as he guided her gracefully and easily through the whirling maze of waltzers, Marion felt that she had never really danced before. Silently they waltzed awhile, enjoying the delicious excitement of the movement, then he said softly: "I have never understood the power of the dance before, but to-night our steps, gliding together to this glorious music, seem to me like the love of two natures, who feel and act in perfect unison." ”

“ Duncan Grahame was a man whose dominant characteristic was assurance, tempered only by an intuitive knowledge of the social amenities. He was often bold but never vulgar. He was rude in the manner of most society men, but his rudeness was a pose prompted by the mannerisms of the age, and designed, as was his coat, after the latest London model. He possessed the rare fortune of being considered handsome both by men and women. His beauty was of the vigorous type, which wins admiration by its manliness rather than its perfection. ”

“ He saw anger flashing from her dark eyes now, but he could not believe that he had lost the power he had so lately exerted over her, and he fancied that this resentment must be due to some whim. "Do you forget the past, dearest?" he said coaxingly, after a moment. "Do you forget our love of yesterday?"
"The unreasoning fancy of a moment is not love," answered Marion coldly.
Duncan saw now that the heart which he had felt so confident of his power to master had slipped from his grasp. ”

“ Is love also a tinsel that tarnishes at the touch? So far mine has been so. But might it not be different? Yes, but the thought is wicked." Marion looked hurriedly about her as though fearful that someone might have seen the thought which crept into her mind. "He believes in love," she continued. "He says the right one exists. I wonder if it is true."
Florence came into the room to say good-night. ”

“ She heard a rumbling noise of wheels; then the street door opened, and she felt a blast of cold, refreshing air. "The carriage is here, ma'am," called her footman, and they passed out into the darkness. At the end of the awning-covered passage the carriage lamps burned dimly, and she could hear the restless champing of bits. They reached the carriage and took their places; the door was closed; the servant mounted the box, the carriage rolled away crunching the crisp snow under its wheels. Marion sank into a corner and tried to think. "I did my best," she said to herself again and again. ”

“ Florence replied, thinking it the easiest excuse to make. "I am the only child, and he gets extremely lonesome when I am long away."
"You forget that while he is but one person, there are many others here. You are inconsiderate of the claims of the majority," said Mrs. McSeeney. "However, you may carry away the satisfaction that you looked absolutely heavenly at the ball last night in that charming yellow gown. How like it is to Marion's, was that intentional?" ”

“ Between the two doors was a broad lounge, which had been placed there to offer an opportunity for a quiet talk, and Helen took the initiative by seating herself and motioning Duncan to a place beside her. He sat down sulkily, and remained silent for a while, trying to drive off the peculiarly helpless feeling which a man invariably experiences in the presence of a woman whose personality is stronger than his own. Duncan plunged his hands into his pockets and sank into a corner of the lounge, mentally deciding that he was an ass, and trying to bring his reason to control his feelings. ”