Capitalists and financiers -- Fiction; Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Meat industry and trade -- Fiction; Political fiction
I kissed her, feeling then that nothing in life could ever be like the
privilege of loving and protecting this woman in her helplessness. I
suppose that words like those she and I spoke then are common enough
between men and women when they are in love. Yet those words have always
been to me like some kind of sacred oath--the woman asking, out of her
weakness, for love and protection from the one who holds all happiness
and life for her, and the man, with his hasty passions, promising of the
best there is in him.
Many a time in later years, when it hasn't always been easy to see
things simply as it was then in our first joy, those words of hers have
come back to me and given me that same soft tug at my heart. To hurt her
would be to strike a child, to wring the neck of a bird that nestled in
your hand. There are a good many kinds of love in this world, as there
are of hate; perhaps about the best of all is this desire to protect
and cherish a woman--the feeling that any man who is worth his salt has
for the one he wants to marry....
Sarah walked part way back to the office with me that morning, then
turned north, saying she must try to find Mrs. Dround and tell her. She
was so happy she couldn't go home and sit down quietly until I got back
from the office. Mrs. Dround, she knew, would be specially glad to hear
the news.
"For she thinks you are a very smart young man," Sarah added shyly.
"The lady must be a mind reader, then; for in the ten years I have been
with the firm I can't remember seeing her once."
"Oh, yes, she has seen you. She said so. Anyway, Jane knows all about
you, you may be sure. There isn't much that goes on around her that Jane
doesn't know about."
With that she gave me a happy little nod and was off to the great stone
house of my boss up north on the lake. It was a windy, dirty December
day, but I was very content with the world as it was and thought Chicago
was the finest city in the world. As I sat down to my desk my mind began
to dance in a whirl of thoughts--of old plans and new combinations. I
wondered what Sarah would say to some of my schemes to make our fortune.
Perhaps they would merely frighten her; for a woman is a natural
conservative. I hurried up my business to get back to her and tell her
that some day, not so very distant, she would be a tolerably rich woman.
For now it seemed only a step into the greater things I had seen all
these years afar off.
* * * * *
The Drounds gave us a dinner not long afterward. I reached the house
early, expecting to have a little time with Sarah before the others
came. Pretty soon I heard the rustle of skirts, but, instead of Sarah, a
tall, thin woman in a black lace evening-dress came into the room where
the servant had left me. Instantly I knew that this was the face I had
seen in the carriage the morning after the anarchist riot. She was a
beautiful woman, with a dark, almost foreign look. She smiled cordially
as she gave me her hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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