Frank Owen

“ The wind tore down over the plains in icy blasts. It beat against the strong walls of the house as though intent on tearing it down. It rattled the doors and crashed icy fists against the window panes. On the hearth huge logs burned merrily. At last Mary was able to sit in a great chair before the open fire and gaze wistfully into the flames. It was easy to dream when one concentrated on the glowing embers. Castles could be built easily of chimney-smoke. What matter if they quickly vanished? Nothing in life was lasting. ”

“ The soil gave life; life to flowers, to trees, to plants. It gave life to man through the abundance of its grains and its fruits. There was a kinship between the soil and the sun. They were lovers, and when they fused in love, the crops were plentiful. There could be no death when the body of man was buried in the soil. For the soil was life. It was the mother of living things and the sun was the father.
Louella Leota was forty years old when she opened, in the mid-western city, her establishment that brought her lasting fame. ”

“ She wanted a man.
She met her ideal when she was fourteen years old. His name was Whitman Manners. He was a salesman for a farm implement company. He was tall, with jet black hair and clear-cut features. Add to this an engaging smile, a charming manner of speaking, a ready wit, and there was nothing to be-wondered at that Mary succumbed to his charms. What she didn't know about him was that his whole life had been lived drifting from one woman to another, that he lacked the gift of continuance. He soon tired of every girl after she had become his sweetheart. ”

“ In art a silly, vapid picture can never be of vast importance. Is art then superior to life? I say no, a thousand times no. A silly vapid human being, though he be clothed in sanctity, is just a daub unless he has some outstanding personality. Perhaps we must rearrange all values. Our whole conception of civilization may be wrong. We are so beset and smirched by pomp, quackery, pseudo-religion and charlatanism, our eyes have become myopic. We cannot distinguish the false dawn from the real. Madame, I salute you. You are a great general. You have fought life's battles nobly. ”

“ Monty Camp followed her. He took her into his arms.
"Mary," he said, "you are magnificent. We'll go away together."
"Despite the fact that you know I'm not decent?"
"Who cares? You have an ivory velvet body. You may be, as you claim, a lady of hell but in your arms I have found heaven."
On the veranda, Yekial Meigs sat and cursed. He had been trodden down into the dust of his farm. For a while he had walked about in a house made beautiful by a woman's presence. Now she was leaving him. It would be like turning off the light. He must live in darkness. ”

“ Abruptly he put his arms about Mary and kissed her. His lips were like ice but she was thrilled. When finally he pushed her gently away, he murmured:
"You are warm with life. I must not do that again. I have an appointment with death. I have no reason to clutch at life. Feel the tips of my fingers, the cold, restless fingers of death."
"Don't talk like that!" she begged. "I cannot bear it."
"We all must bear it," he said. "In time every man gets used to death and the genuine philosopher welcomes it. Nothing but eulogies, no more strife. ”

“ Flowers are greater than people because they are more spiritual. They are capable of recording finer shades of emotion. The human body is still a crude machine. There are sermons in stones, in the wind whispering in the treetops, in the deep blue hush of the night sky. Dawn is a prayer of hope. Sunset is a benediction. There is religion in nature and we breathe it in with the air we take into our lungs. God is all about us, in the earth and the skies. ”

“ Chicago was kind to Monty Camp. He was having a streak of luck. Money flowed in and out again because Monty was a free-spender. He bought Louella everything she wanted, hats, dresses, jewels. Sometimes they dined at the Palmer House and Louella was thrilled by the elegance about her. But there was no woman in the dining room who was more beautiful, nor more tastefully attired. It was not until her later years when she grew stout and took snuff that Louella commenced to dress atrociously. In her Chicago days with Monty Camp her beauty was at its most perfect blooming. ”

“ What greater life could any man live? But the king is constantly harassed by cares and worry, the cheap ceremonies of court, the petty bickerings of those about him, rumors of impending wars, the poverty of some of his subjects, the constant dread of assassination, and at the end of the day a couch shared with a woman whom he has been forced to marry for the good of his country, a woman whom he doesn't love and who doesn't love him. ”

“ So closely associated was it with the soil, in time it had taken root like a great tree and its tortuous halls spread out in all directions like tendrils. Mary wondered if this house, too, had taken root. She hoped so. It was good to live in a house that was alive. She hated the damp musty smell of dead rooms. The death-vault quietude. She wanted a house that smiled, that sang, a house whose halls echoed with laughter.
As the carriage came to a stop before the door, Yekial held out his hand in a sweeping gesture. ”

“ A man is a fool to go off in quest of life, persistently to worry that his health may not be restored. How much more simple and beautiful it is to sink softly into the sweet arms of death! Death is more restful than life. It quiets the nerves. Sleep is merely a fleeting death. Every time man is awakened, he is really born again. Why should people fear death if they have faith? ”

“ The home of Yekial Meigs, about ten miles out from Fort Wayne, Indiana, was a squat, rambling house that somehow gave one the impression it was kneeling.
When Mary Blaine saw it for the first time, she thought: "It has dug its way deep down into the soil. Perhaps someday it will disappear completely and go on and on burrowing like a mole in the vast black caverns of the earth." ”

“ She could overlook a lot in a man if he were wealthy.
After supper that evening, he hired a carriage and they went for a leisurely drive along the roadway, beside the lake. They had left the Fair Grounds with its color and glamour. Now all was peace.
"It is almost like being home," said he. He was driving the carriage himself.
Mary sighed. The word home always made her feel lonesome. It brought back vividly to her mind all that she had lost. Since leaving her father's farm she had had less privacy than a gold fish. Now as she sat with Yekial Meigs, she felt in a somber mood. ”

“ From the very start, Dorothy gave evidence of being strong-minded, like her father.
When she was five days old she commenced to plan her own life. She would clutch at the blankets as though she were trying to embroider. And as for crying, she was a past master. No feeble little cries for Dorothy. Nothing but tremendous wails would do. As a result, those about her would do anything to end the wails. Fortunately she did not cry often, or her mother would have had a nervous breakdown. As a rule she was as sunny as the Spring day on which she was born. ”

“ As she spoke she walked majestically up the groaning stairs, a mountain of a woman who had suddenly fallen into the valley of despair.
Blackie seized his hat and departed as though intent on entering a marathon. His brain, however, was still active and despite the pain of his sundry bruises he was plotting his revenge.
Timothy stood mournfully surveying the retreating figure of Madame Leota whom he knew as Mary Blaine.
"A harmless maniac," he reflected, "is bad enough. Whatever we shall do with her now that she has become violent, only the Creator knows." ”

“ That was how he had first come in contact with Templeton Blaine.
Nevertheless Yekial Meigs worked like a wage-slave for long hours on his farm. He was chained to his plow. He was mean, niggardly, grasping. But he was well-educated and when the spirit moved him he could talk interestingly. But he was a man of moods and for the most part taciturn, as tight with his words as he was with his money.
Louella was conscious of the thoughts that were going through his mind as he gazed at her but she did not resent them. She wanted to be desired of men. That was the way to continue prosperous herself. ”

“ Or else we have paintings where one object is placed above another without any attempt at proper placement. One would imagine that men lived on shelves. Or else we see conceptions of landscapes that are such a hodge-podge of blurs and colors that they resemble a maniac's vision of a dish of soup. Nevertheless this swing back to the primitive is merely the working out of natural law. We live in cycles. The immorality in the world today is a swing back to the orgies of the Romans. All life is lived in circles. The universe is a massive wheel and at stated intervals the same spokes reappear. ”

“ Dorothy often said that to her he looked like Lord Helpus.
"He always makes me feel lowly," she had complained, "when he enters a room, I feel like bowing to him and fetching tea. It is hell to have a jigger in your employ who makes you feel like a servant."
Old Timothy had been in the employ of the family for more than twenty years. Templeton Blaine had liked him. Dorothy kept him on now for her father's sake. Nothing in the house must be changed. Still in the whole course of her life she had never seen Timothy smile. ”

“ Thus Ivan would ramble on and Louella joyed to listen to him. He was a good friend though she had always scoffed at friendship. Only a very rich man, she once believed, could afford the luxury of friendship. An enemy was a far different matter; almost a necessity. If one was in only moderate circumstances, one should acquire an enemy. To spur one on to greater and greater effort. The effect of a friend was neutral, like putting sugar in tea or ice cream on peach pie.
Ivan, Madame believed, gave an air of distinction to her apartment. ”

“ It was a relief to Mary when a new boarder arrived at the farm. At least this new boarder would be in the nature of a diversion, somebody new to talk to. She didn't want to think any more about Steve Garland and his portrait of the woman with the halo. If she remained alone much longer, that hidden woman might attempt to peer out again from her hiding place. If that inner woman existed she must be suffocated, strangled. She must not get glimpses of the moon. ”

“ It seems to me that religion needs super-salesmen to sell it to the multitude, salesmen who can inspire faith in the product. When this can be accomplished, there will be hope for mankind. Death is really a beautiful adventure. One should go out into the fields to greet it as one greets the dawn, with arms outstretched and a song on one's lips. For there to be a birth a woman must go down to the valley of death to produce life. In this, death is superior to life, for it is not necessary to go up to the mountains of life to produce death."
Steve Garland stopped abruptly. ”

“ Only once in her life did Louella Leota become one of the girls in a house of love. That was during her residence in Nashville. She had been lonely after Jobyna's death and Madame Clair was kind to her. She gave her a room in her house and before many days had passed she was as busy as any of the other girls.
As she beheld the money that was squandered in that place she was amazed. This was indeed a profitable racket. She decided that she would have a house of her own. She would run it in good taste. Only the most beautiful and best mannered girls would be hired. ”

“ Had it not been for Dorothy he would have shot himself. There was no use going on now. Dorothy talked to him. He was amazed at her courage and logic.
"We can't simply die," she said. "That wouldn't be very sporting. It wouldn't be fair to Mother. It would make her sad if we quit. Besides I have faith. Mother isn't really dead. In that vast immensity of sky there is an eternal promise. The sky presents hope. Perhaps death is but a release of the spirit to wander in blue pastures."
Templeton could not speak. He put his arm about the girl's shoulder and patted her cheek. ”

“ After the arrival of Steve Garland, Mary had no cause to complain of lonesomeness. She had imagined that she was familiar with all types of men and any new meetings would be only repetitions. But she was wrong. She had never met anyone like Steve. He laughed at life even when he beheld it fleeing in terror from him. It made Mary Blaine creepy but at least now there was laughter in the house.
"I have a rendezvous with death," he told her, "though she is somewhat late. However I'll wait. While I am not physically busy at least I have much time for musing. ”