Capitalists and financiers -- Fiction; Psychological fiction
The effect of a house of this character on its owner is unmistakable.
We think we are individual, separate, above houses and material objects
generally; but there is a subtle connection which makes them reflect us
quite as much as we reflect them. They lend dignity, subtlety, force,
each to the other, and what beauty, or lack of it, there is, is shot
back and forth from one to the other as a shuttle in a loom, weaving,
weaving. Cut the thread, separate a man from that which is rightfully
his own, characteristic of him, and you have a peculiar figure, half
success, half failure, much as a spider without its web, which will
never be its whole self again until all its dignities and emoluments
are restored.
The sight of his new house going up made Cowperwood feel of more weight
in the world, and the possession of his suddenly achieved connection
with the city treasurer was as though a wide door had been thrown open
to the Elysian fields of opportunity. He rode about the city those days
behind a team of spirited bays, whose glossy hides and metaled harness
bespoke the watchful care of hostler and coachman. Ellsworth was
building an attractive stable in the little side street back of the
houses, for the joint use of both families. He told Mrs. Cowperwood
that he intended to buy her a victoria—as the low, open, four-wheeled
coach was then known—as soon as they were well settled in their new
home, and that they were to go out more. There was some talk about the
value of entertaining—that he would have to reach out socially for
certain individuals who were not now known to him. Together with Anna,
his sister, and his two brothers, Joseph and Edward, they could use the
two houses jointly. There was no reason why Anna should not make a
splendid match. Joe and Ed might marry well, since they were not
destined to set the world on fire in commerce. At least it would not
hurt them to try.
“Don’t you think you will like that?” he asked his wife, referring to
his plans for entertaining.
She smiled wanly. “I suppose so,” she said.
Chapter XVI
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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