Twenty tales by twenty women: From real life in ChicagoAnonymous
General
Twenty tales by twenty women: From real life in Chicago
Anonymous
Chicago (Ill.) -- Moral conditions; Prostitution -- Illinois -- Chicago
“‘No, but you see, little one, the rich man wants you for his own; he is
only waiting for you to be educated and grow into full womanhood. Then
you are to be his.’
“‘Hasn’t he any little girls of his own?’
“‘No, you poor dear, you don’t know what I mean; what it all means.’
“‘No, tell me, Lannie, for if it is not nice and good I don’t want to do
anything but just stay here.’
“‘Well, it’s this, Ailene; may God grant that you will forgive me for
disturbing your young heart, but your father came near losing all he had.
He applied to a firm for financial aid; the old gentleman who was here
furnished the much needed assistance under these conditions: That you be
educated at his expense and then he will marry you for he has fallen in
love with you.’
“‘Oh, the ugly old thing! I don’t want to marry him. I hate him. I don’t
want to marry anybody. I want to stay where you are,’ I cried.
“‘Yes, dear, I know, but a great deal depends on you, for you were not to
know it yet, and as I have been a witness to the contract and have been
sworn to secrecy you must not tell anyone that you know.’
“‘But I won’t go.’
“‘Yes, pet, you must go and remember that you are only fifteen now; you
are not expected to marry your father’s benefactor until you are nineteen
or twenty, changes may take place before the time arrives for you to
give up all hope.’
“It was a sad leave taking for more than me; I shall never forget the
pained expression in my mother’s face and the stern, sad look of my
father as I waved my hand from the car window.
“Lannie had carried a little basket of luncheon to the station for me,
and when I opened it on the train late that afternoon I found a handful
of wild flowers wrapped in a piece of the “Lumberman’s Journal,” which I
knew Lannie to be a regular subscriber of; there under the glass cover
are those same flowers, withered and faded beyond recognition, but the
sweet memory which clings to them makes them more precious to me than all
the blossoms this world contains.
“I had four years of school life with everything that money could buy,
kind friends, pleasant surroundings and indulgent teachers.
“But oh, how I longed for mother, for the woods, the vines and moss, the
whirr of saws, and the scream of the mill whistle and for Lannie. Oh, for
one hour in the tangled forest with strong, brave Lannie would have paid
me for all the suffering which I had to bear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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