The Shadow of Victory: A Romance of Fort DearbornReed, Myrtle
General
The Shadow of Victory: A Romance of Fort Dearborn
Reed, Myrtle
Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Fort Dearborn Massacre, Chicago, Ill., 1812 -- Fiction
"They say," continued Katherine, with her face white, "that after the
first few years the storm and stress dies out into indifference, and
that happiness and content are again possible. But oh," she breathed,
"those few years! If man and woman must go through the world together,
shoulder to shoulder, meeting the same troubles, the same difficulties
and dangers, why, oh, why, didn't God make us of the same clay! We
are different in a thousand ways; we act in opposite directions,
from differing and incomprehensible motives--our point of view is
instinctively different, and yet we are chained. Sex against sex it
has been since the world began--sex against sex it shall be to the
bitter end!"
"Katherine!" sobbed Beatrice, "I know! That is what I am afraid of!
All the time I keep tight hold of myself to keep from caring, because
I dare not surrender. If I yield, I am lost. If I loved a man, he
could take me between his two hands and crush me--so; I should be so
wholly his!"
"Yes," said the other, bitterly, "and many times he will crush you,
just to see if he can--just to see that he has not lost his command of
you. Power is what he must have--power over your mind and body, your
heart and your soul--for every little unthinking action of yours, you
are held responsible before the bar of his justice. His justice," she
repeated, scornfully, "when he does not know what the word means. You
have a little corner of his life; you give him all of yours in return.
We are bound like slaves that never can be free--God made it so--and
we obey!"
There was a tense silence, then a step was heard upon the piazza, and
Katherine opened the door to her husband. Beatrice managed to wipe her
wet eyes upon her sewing before he saw that she was there.
"Well," said the Lieutenant, easily, sinking into a chair, "what have
you girls been doing?"
"Oh, we've just been talking," answered Katherine, diffidently.
"Talking, talking,--always talking," he continued. "What would women
do if they couldn't talk?"
"They'd burst," remarked Beatrice, concisely.
"I guess that's right," laughed the Lieutenant; "but you needn't fear
it will happen to you."
"You're mean to me," said Beatrice, gathering up her work, "so I'm
going home."
"Don't be in a hurry," put in Katherine.
"I haven't been--you don't want me to live here, do you?"
"We should be charmed," replied the Lieutenant, gallantly.
"I'll consider it," she said shortly. "Good-bye!"
"Tempestuous sort of a girl," commented Howard, as Beatrice
disappeared. "She'd play the devil with a man, wouldn't she?"
"That's exactly what she's doing."
"Which man?" asked Howard, curiously.
"Messrs. Ronald and Forsyth," answered Katherine, laughing. "How blind
and stupid you are!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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