> 
 
 '*- s 
 
 2 M. 1
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY
 
 Rose of Dutcher's Coolly 
 
 by 
 
 Hamlin Garland 
 
 CHICAGO 
 STONE fcf KIMBALL 
 
 MDCCCXCV
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY 
 HAMLIN OAKLAND
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 HER CHILDHOOD 
 
 Rose was an unaccountable child from the 
 start. She learned to speak early and while she 
 did not use "baby-talk" she had strange words 
 of her own. She called hard money "tow" 
 and a picture "tac," names which had nothing 
 to do with onomatopoeia though it seemed so 
 in some cases. Bread and milk she called 
 "plop." 
 
 She began to read of her own accord when 
 four years old, picking out the letters from the 
 advertisements of the newspapers, and running 
 to her mother at the sink or bread-board to 
 learn what each word meant. Her demand for 
 stories grew to be a burden. She was insatiate, 
 nothing but sleep subdued her eager brain. 
 
 As she grew older she read and re-read her 
 picture books when alone, but when older peo 
 ple were talking she listened as attentively as if 
 she understood every word. She had the power 
 of amusing herself and visited very little with 
 
 3 
 

 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 other children. It was deeply moving to see 
 her with her poor playthings out under the pop 
 lar tree, talking to herself, arranging and re 
 arranging her chairs and tables, the sunlight 
 flecking her hair, and the birds singing over 
 head. 
 
 She seemed only a larger sort of insect, and 
 her prattle mixed easily with the chirp of crickets 
 and the rustle of leaves. 
 
 She was only five years old when her mother 
 suddenly withdrew her hands from pans and 
 kettles, gave up all thought of bread and butter 
 making, and took rest in death. Only a few 
 hours of waiting on her bed near the kitchen 
 fire and Ann Dutcher was through with toil and 
 troubled dreaming, and lay in the dim best- 
 room, taking no account of anything in the 
 light of day. 
 
 Rose got up the next morning after her 
 mother's last kiss and went into the room where 
 the body lay. A gnomish little figure the child 
 was, for at that time her head was large and 
 her cropped hair bristled till she seemed a sort 
 of brownie. Also, her lonely child-life had 
 given her quaint, grave ways. 
 
 She knew her mother was dead, and that 
 -death was a kind of sleep which lasted longer 
 than common sleep, that was all the difference, 
 .so she went in and stood by the bed and tried 
 ito see her mother's face. It was early in the 
 
 4
 
 HER CHILDHOOD 
 
 morning and the curtains being drawn it was 
 dark in the room, but Rose had no fear, for 
 mother was there. 
 
 She talked softly to herself a little while, then 
 went over to the window and pulled on the 
 string of the curtain till it rolled up. Then she 
 went back and looked at her mother. She grew 
 tired of waiting at last. 
 
 "Mamma," she called, "wake up. Can 't you 
 wake up, mamma ? " 
 
 She patted the cold, rigid cheeks with her 
 rough brown little palms. Then she blew in 
 the dead face, gravely. Then she thought if she 
 could only open mamma's eyes she 'd be awake. 
 So she took her finger and thumb and tried to 
 lift the lashes, and when she did she was 
 frightened by the look of the set faded gray 
 eyes. Then the terrible vague shadow of the 
 Unknown settled upon her and she cried con 
 vulsively: "Mamma! mamma, I want you!" 
 Thus she met death, early in her life. 
 
 After her mother's burial Rose turned to her 
 father more hungrily than before. She rode 
 into the fields with him in the spring, when he 
 went out to sow, sitting on the seeder box with 
 the pockets of her little pink apron filled with 
 wheat, and her sweet, piping little voice calling 
 to the horses or laughing in glee at the swarms 
 of sparrows. When he was plowing corn she 
 rode on the horses, clinging like a blue-jay to 
 
 5
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 the rings in the back-pad, her yellow-brown hair 
 blowing. 
 
 She talked sagely about the crops and the 
 weather, and asked innumerable questions. 
 Often John could not hear her questions, which 
 were like soft soliloquies, but she babbled on 
 just the same. 
 
 "See the little birds, pappa John. They's 
 'bout a million of 'um, ain't they? They 're 
 glad spring has come, ain't they, pappa? They 
 can understand each other just the same as we 
 can, can 't they, pappa John?" 
 
 John Butcher was not a talker, and he seldom 
 answered her unless she turned her eager face to 
 him, and her bird-like voice repeated her ques 
 tion. But it mattered very little to Rose. She 
 had her father's power of self-amusement. In 
 case she got tired of riding about with him she 
 brought her playthings out and established them 
 in a corner of the fence. Her favorite game 
 was playing horses. 
 
 Her horses were sticks of the size of canes, 
 and of all sorts and colors. Each one had a 
 name. How she selected them, and why she 
 selected them out of the vast world of sticks, was 
 a mystery to John Dutcher. 
 
 The brown stick she called Dan, the fork 
 
 handle, Nellie, and the crooked stick with the 
 
 big knot was Barney. She had from six to ten 
 
 and she never forgot their names. Each had a 
 
 6
 
 HER CHILDHOOD 
 
 string for a bridle and they all were placed in 
 stalls, which she built with infinite labor and cal 
 culation out of twigs. She led each stick by its 
 halter up to the manger (a rail} on which she 
 had placed oats and grass. She talked to them. 
 
 "Now, Barney, whoa-whoa there now ! Do n't 
 you kick Kit again now sir! Kit, you better 
 stand over here by Pete Barney, you need ex 
 ercise, that's what you need yessir." 
 
 She exercised them by riding them in plung 
 ing circles about the fields, forgetting, with the 
 quick imagination of a child, that she was doing 
 all the hard work of the riding with her own 
 stout, brown legs. It was a pleasure to John to 
 have her there though he said little to her. 
 
 Often at night as he saw her lying asleep, her 
 long lashes upon her roughened sun-burned 
 skin, his heart went out to her in a great gush of 
 tenderness. His throat ached and his eyes grew 
 wet as he thought how unresponsive he had been 
 that day. His remorseful memory went back 
 over her eager questions to which he had not 
 replied. Dear, sweet, restless little heart ! And 
 then he vowed never to lose patience with her 
 again. And sometimes standing there beside 
 her bed his arms closed about the little mound 
 under the quilts, and his lips touched the round, 
 sleep-enraptured face. At such times his needy 
 soul went out in a cry to his dead wife for help 
 to care for his child.
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 He grew afraid of the mystery and danger of 
 coming womanhood. Her needs came to him 
 more powerfully each day. 
 
 When she began going to school with the 
 other children the effects of her lonely life and 
 of her companionship with her father set her 
 apart from the boys and girls of her own age 
 and placed her among those several years older, 
 whom she dominated by her gravity and her 
 audacity. She was not mischievous or quarrel 
 some, but she was a fearless investigator. She 
 tested their childish superstitions at once. 
 
 When they told her that if she swore at God 
 and shook her fist at the sky she would certainly 
 drop dead, she calmly stepped forward and 
 shook her little fist up at the sun and swore, 
 while the awe-stricken children cowered like a 
 covey of partridges. 
 
 "There! you see that^s a lie," she said scorn 
 fully. "God can't kill me or else he don't 
 care." 
 
 She went on exploding these strange super 
 stitious fancies, which are only the survivals in 
 civilized children of savage ancestry. She stood 
 erect in the door of the school-house when she 
 was eight years old, and pointed her hand at the 
 lightning while the teacher sat cowed and weep 
 ing at her desk. 
 
 "You said I dassn't," the little elf cried, 
 "But I dass't, and nothing ain't struck me yet.'*
 
 HER CHILDHOOD 
 
 Her absolute fearlessness of the things which 
 children shrank from, the dark, and things of 
 the dark, made her a marked figure. The wo 
 men of the Coolly thought it due to the lack of 
 a mother's care. They spoke to the minister 
 about it and urged him to see Butcher and ask 
 him to try and do something for the child's 
 good. 
 
 But Butcher simply said, " Oh, do n't bother 
 the child about her soul. She 's all right. I 
 don't bother myself about those things, and 
 what 's the use o' spoilin' the child's fun. If she 
 wants to go to Sunday-school, why all right. 
 She '11 go where she 's interested." 
 
 "But, Brother Butcher, the child is doing 
 outrageous things heathenish, defying her 
 God." 
 
 " I do n't s'pose what she does will make any 
 particular difference to God. We understand 
 each other, Rosie and me. Bo n't worry. If 
 she does anything real bad she '11 come an' tell 
 me of it. Chk ! Chk ! G' wan, Barney ! " He cut 
 the matter short by driving away into the field 
 of corn. 
 
 He saw rushing upon him the most solemn 
 and severe trials of a parent. Rose was a sturdy 
 girl and promised to develop into a maiden 
 early, and there were a hundred things which 
 ought to be said to her which must be said by 
 some one. He was not philosopher enough to 
 
 9
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 know that she held in her expanding brain the 
 germs of self-knowledge. 
 
 He had been passing through a running fire 
 of questions from the child for two years, but 
 these questions now took hold of deeper things, 
 and they could no longer be put aside by say 
 ing, " Wait a few years and then I '11 tell you." 
 She would learn them elsewhere, if not from him. 
 He braced himself for the trial, which increased 
 in severity. 
 
 The child's horizon was limited, but within 
 its circle her searching eyes let nothing escape. 
 She came to Dutcher with appalling questions. 
 
 She not only asked him, " Who made God? " 
 but she wanted to know how she came to be 
 born, and a thousand other questions of the 
 same searching nature. He saw that the day of 
 petty fictions had gone by. The child knew 
 that little lambs, and calves, and kittens did not 
 grow down in the woods. She knew that babies 
 were not brought by the doctor, and that they 
 did not come from heaven. 
 
 "Good Lord!" groaned her father one day, 
 after an unusually persistent attack from her, 
 caused by the appearance of a little colt out in 
 the barn, " I wish your mother was here, or 
 some woman. You do make it hard for me, 
 Rosie." 
 
 " How do I make it hard for you, pappa? " 
 was her quick new question. " O, Lord, what a 
 10
 
 HER CHILDHOOD 
 
 young un," he said, in deeper despair. " Come, 
 ain't it about time for you to be leggin' it 
 toward school? Give me a rest, Rosie. But 
 I '11 answer all your questions do n't ask 
 about them things of the children come right 
 to me always only don't pile 'em all on me 
 to once." 
 
 " All right, pappa, I won't." 
 
 "That's a good old soul!" he said, patting 
 her on the back. After she had gone he sat 
 down on the feed-box and wiped his face. " I 
 wonder how women do explain things like that 
 to girls," he thought. " I '11 ask the preacher's 
 wife to explain it no, I won't. I '11 do it my 
 self, and I '11 get her books to read about it 
 good books." 
 
 It was evidence of the girl's innate strength 
 and purity of soul that the long succession of 
 hired hands had not poisoned her mind. They 
 soon discovered, however, the complete confi 
 dence between the father and child, and knew 
 that their words and actions would be taken 
 straight to John as soon as night came and Rose 
 climbed into his lap. This made them careful 
 before her, and the shame of their words and 
 stories came to the child's ears only in fragments. 
 
 Dutcher concluded that he should have a 
 woman in the house, and co sent back to Penn 
 sylvania for his sister, lately widowed. Rose 
 looked forward to seeing her aunt with the wild- 
 ii
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 est delight. She went with her father down the 
 valley to Bluff Siding to meet her. Bluff Siding 
 was the only town the child knew, and it was a 
 wonderful thing to go to town. 
 
 As they stood on the platform, waiting, her 
 eyes swept along the great curve of the rails to 
 the east, and suddenly, like a pain in the heart, 
 came her first realization of distance, of the in 
 finity of the world. 
 
 " Where does it go to, pappa? " 
 
 " O, a long way off. To Madison, Chicago, 
 and Pennsylvany." 
 
 " How far is it? Could we go there with 
 old Barney and Nell?" 
 
 "O, no. If we drove there it would take us 
 days and days, and the wheat would grow up 
 and get yellow, an' the snow come, almost, be 
 fore we 'd get there." 
 
 " O, dear! " she sighed. " I do n't like to have 
 it so big. Do people live all along the whole 
 way?" 
 
 " Yes, the whole way, and lots of big cities." 
 
 "Big as Madison?" Madison was her un 
 seen measure of greatness. 
 
 " O, yes. A hundred times bigger." 
 
 She sighed again and looked away to the 
 east with a strange, unchildish, set stare in her 
 eyes. She was trying to realize it. 
 
 " It makes me ache, pappa," she sighed, put 
 ting her little brown hand to her throat. 
 12
 
 HER CHILDHOOD 
 
 When the engine came in with its thunder 
 and whizz, she shrank back against the station 
 wall, white and breathless, not so much with fear 
 as with awe. She had never stood so close to 
 this monster before. It attracted all her atten 
 tion so that for the moment she forgot about the 
 coming of her aunt. 
 
 When she looked into the large dull face of 
 Mrs. Diehl she was deeply disappointed. She 
 liked her but she not love her! 
 
 She had looked forward to her coming almost 
 as if to the return of her mother. She had 
 imagined her looking strange and beautiful be 
 cause she came out of the mystical, far-off land 
 her father often spoke of. Instead of these 
 things Mrs. Diehl was a strong-featured, mild- 
 voiced woman, rather large and ungraceful, who 
 looked upon the motherless child and clicked 
 her tongue tch! 
 
 " You poor chick! " 
 
 But the thing which had happened was this : 
 Rose had conceived of distance and great cities. 
 
 The next day she said : " Pappa John, I 
 want to go way up on the bluffs. I want to go 
 up to Table Rock where I can see way, way off." 
 
 " It 's a long climb up there, Rosie. You '11 
 get tired." 
 
 But Rosie insisted and together they climbed 
 the hill. Up beyond the pasture beyond the 
 black-berry patch beyond the clinging birches 
 
 13
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 in their white jackets up where the rocks 
 cropped out of the ground and where curious 
 little wave-worn pebbles lay scattered on the 
 scant grass. 
 
 Once a glittering rattle-snake lying in the 
 sun awoke, and slipped under a stone like a 
 stream of golden oil, and the child shrank 
 against her father's thigh in horror. 
 
 They climbed slowly up the steep grassy slope 
 and stood at last on the flat rock which topped 
 the bluff. Rose stood there, dizzy, out of breath, 
 with her hair blown across her cheek and looked 
 away, at the curving valley and its river gleam 
 ing here and there through the willows and 
 elders. It was like looking over an unexplored 
 world to the child. Her eyes expanded and her 
 heart filled with the same ache which came into 
 it when she looked down along the curving rail 
 way track. She turned suddenly and fell sobbing 
 against her father. 
 
 " Why, Rosie, what 's the matter? Poor little 
 girl she 's all tired out, climbin' up here." He 
 sat down and took her on his lap and talked to 
 her of the valley below and where the river went 
 but she would not look up again. 
 
 " I want to go home," she said with hidden 
 face. 
 
 On the way down, John rolled a big stone 
 down the hill and as it went bounding, crashing 
 into the forest below, a deer drifted out like a 
 
 14
 
 HER CHILDHOOD 
 
 gray shadow and swept along the hillside and 
 over the ridge. 
 
 Rose saw it as if in a dream. She did not 
 laugh nor shout. John was troubled by her si 
 lence and gravity, but laid it to weariness and 
 took her pick-a-back on the last half mile through 
 the brush. 
 
 That scene came to her mind again and again 
 in the days which followed, but she did not see 
 it again till the following spring. It appealed to 
 her with less power then. Its beauty over 
 shadowed its oppressive largeness. As she grew 
 older it came to be her favorite playing ground 
 on holidays. She brought down those quaint 
 little bits of limestone and made them her play 
 things in her house, which was next door to her 
 barn and secondary to her barn.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 CHILD-LIFE, PAGAN FREE 
 
 Rose lived the life of the farm girls in the 
 seven great Middle-West States. In summer she 
 patted away to school, clad only in a gingham 
 dress, white untrimmed cotton pantalets, and a 
 straw hat that was made feminine by a band of 
 gay ribbon. Her body was as untrammeled as a 
 boy's. She went bare-foot and bare-headed at 
 will, and she was part of all the sports. 
 
 She helped the boys snare gophers, on the way 
 to school, and played house with the girls on 
 the shady side of the school-house, and once, 
 while the teacher was absent at noon, Rose pro 
 posed that a fire be built to heat the tea for the 
 dolls. 
 
 She it was who constructed the stove out of 
 thin bricks, and set a fire going in it in the cor 
 ner of the boy's entry-way, and only the passing 
 of a farmer saved the building from disaster. 
 
 She it was who found the ground-bird's nest 
 and proposed to make a house over it, and ended 
 by teaching the bird to walk through a long hall 
 way made of sticks in order to get to its eggs 
 again. 
 
 16
 
 CHILD-LIFE, PAGAN FREE 
 
 She despised hats and very seldom wore hers 
 except hanging by the string down her back. 
 Her face was brown and red as leather, and her 
 stout little hands were always covered with warts 
 and good brown earth, which had no terrors for 
 her. 
 
 Bugs and beetles did not scare her any more 
 than they did the boys. She watched the beetles 
 bury a dead gopher without the slightest repug 
 nance ; indeed, she turned to, after a long time, 
 to help them, a kindness which they very prob 
 ably resented, to judge from their scrambling. 
 
 She always urged the other girls to go down 
 to the creek and see the boys go in swimming, 
 and would have joined the fun had not the boys 
 beaten her back with hands full of mud, while 
 they uttered opprobrious cries. She saw no reason 
 why boys should have all the fun. 
 
 When the days were hot they could go down 
 there in the cool, nice creek, strip and have a 
 good time, but girls must primp around and try 
 to keep nice and clean. She looked longingly at 
 the naked little savages running about and 
 splashing in the water. There was something so 
 fine and joyous in it, her childish heart rebelled 
 at sex-distinction as she walked slowly away. 
 She, too, loved the feel of the water and the 
 caress of the wind. 
 
 She was a good student and developed early 
 into a wonderful speller and reader. She always
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 listened to the classes in reading, and long be 
 fore she reached the pieces herself she knew 
 them by heart, and said them to herself in the 
 silence of the lane or the loneliness of the garret. 
 She recited "The Battle of Waterloo" and 
 " Locheil " long before she understood the 
 words. The roll of the verse excited her, and 
 she thrust her nut of a fist into the air like 
 Miriam the Hebrew singer, feeling vaguely the 
 same passion. 
 
 She went from Primer to First Reader, then 
 to the Second and Third Readers, without effort. 
 She read easily and dramatically. She caught at 
 the larger meanings, and uttered them in such 
 wise that the older pupils stopped their study to 
 listen. 
 
 Scraps and fragments of her reading took 
 curious lodgment in her mind. New concep 
 tions burst into her consciousness with a golden 
 glory upon reading these lines: 
 
 " Field of wheat so full and fair, 
 Shining with a sunny air; 
 Lightly swaying either way, 
 Graceful as the breezes sway." 
 
 They made her see the beauty of the grain- 
 field as never before. It seemed to be lit by 
 some mysterious light. 
 
 " Cleon hath a million acres, 
 Ne'er a one have I," 
 
 seemed to express something immemorial and 
 18
 
 CHILD-LIFE, PAGAN FREE 
 
 grand. She seemed to see hills stretching to 
 vast distances, covered with cattle. " The pied 
 frog's orchestra " came to her with sudden con 
 scious meaning as she sat on the door-step one 
 night eating her bowl of bread and milk, and 
 watching the stars come out. These fragments 
 of literature expressed the poetry of certain 
 things about her, and helped her also to perceive 
 others. 
 
 She was a daring swinger, and used to swing 
 furiously out under the maple trees, hoping to 
 some day touch the branches high up there, and, 
 when her companions gathered in little clumps 
 in dismayed consultation, she swung with wild 
 hair floating free, a sort of intoxication of delight 
 in her heart. 
 
 Sometimes when alone she slipped off her 
 clothes and ran amid the tall corn-stalks like a 
 wild thing. Her slim little brown body slipped 
 among the leaves like a weasel in the grass. 
 Some secret, strange delight, drawn from ances 
 tral sources, bubbled over from her pounding 
 heart, and she ran and ran until wearied and 
 sore with the rasping corn leaves, then she sadly 
 put on civilized dress once more. 
 
 Her feet were brown as toads, but graceful 
 and small, and she washed them (when the dew 
 was heavy enough) by running in the wet grass 
 just before going in to bed, a trick the boys of 
 the neighborhood had taught her. She ran for- 
 
 19
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 ward to clean the insteps and backward to clean 
 the heels. If the grass was not wet, she omitted 
 the ceremony. Dust was clean anyhow. Her 
 night-gowns were of most sorry pattern till her 
 aunt came; thereafter they were clean, though it 
 mattered little. They were a nuisance anyway. 
 
 She wore a pink sun-bonnet, when she could 
 find one; generally there were two or three hang 
 ing on the fences at remote places. She sat 
 down in the middle of the road, because she had 
 a lizard's liking for the warm soft dust, and she 
 paddled in every pool and plunged her hand 
 into every puddle after frogs and bugs and 
 worms, with the action of a crane. 
 
 She ate everything that boys did. That is to 
 say, she ate sheep sorrel, Indian tobacco, roots 
 of ferns, May apples, rose leaves, rose-buds, raw 
 turnips, choke-cherries, wild crab-apples, slippery 
 elm bark, and the green balls on young oak 
 trees, as well as the bitter acorns. These acorns 
 she chewed into pats, and dried in the sun, to 
 eat at other times, like a savage. 
 
 She ate pinks and grass blades, and green 
 watermelons, and ground cherries, and black- 
 haws, and dew-berries, and every other conceiv 
 able thing in the woods and fields, not to men 
 tion the score of things which she tried and spit 
 out. She became inured to poison ivy like the 
 boys and walked the forest paths without fear of 
 anything but snakes. 
 
 20
 
 CHILD-LIFE, PAGAN FREE 
 
 Summer was one continuous and busy play- 
 spell for her in those days before her lessons be 
 came a serious thing, for as she sat in school she 
 was experimenting in the same way. She chewed 
 paper into balls and snapped them like the boys. 
 She carried slips of elm bark to chew also, and 
 slate pencils she crunched daily. She gnawed 
 the corners of her slate, tasted her ink and 
 munched the cedar of her pencil. 
 
 And through it all she grew tall and straight 
 and brown. She could run like a partridge and 
 fight like a wild-cat, at need. Her brown-black 
 eyes shone in her dark warm skin with an eager 
 light, and her calloused little claws of hands 
 reached and took hold of all realities. 
 
 The boys respected her as a girl who wasn't 
 afraid of bugs, and who could run, and throw a 
 ball. Above all she was strong and well.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 DANGEROUS DAYS 
 
 A farmer's daughter is exposed to sights and 
 sounds which the city girl knows nothing of. 
 Mysterious processes of generation and birth go 
 on before the eyes of the farm child, which only 
 come as obscure whisperings to the city child of 
 the same middle condition. And these happen 
 ings have a terrifying power to stir and develop 
 passions prematurely. 
 
 Rose heard occasionally obscene words among 
 the hands. She listened unperceived to the 
 vulgar cackling of old women during afternoon 
 calls. Before her eyes from the time of her 
 toddling youth had proceeded the drama of ani 
 mal life. She had seen it all ; courtship, birth, 
 death. Nothing escaped her keen, searching, 
 inquisitive eyes. She asked her father about 
 these dramatic and furious episodes of the barn 
 yard, but he put her off, and she finally ceased 
 to ask about them. She began to perceive they 
 were considered of that obscure and unmention 
 able world of sin, with which men alone had 
 proper right to deal. 
 
 When the girls of her age in the grasp of 
 
 22
 
 DANGEROUS DAYS 
 
 some gale of passion, danced about her shouting 
 foul words in the unknowing way children have, 
 she could not take part by word of mouth, 
 though she felt the same savage, frenzied delight 
 in it. 
 
 She learned early the hideous signs which 
 pass in the country to describe the unnamable 
 and the covert things of human life. She saw 
 them scrawled on the fences, on school-house 
 doors, and written on the dust of the road. 
 There was no escaping them. The apparently 
 shameful fact of sex faced her everywhere. 
 
 And yet through it all she lived a glad, free, 
 wholesome life. Her blood was sweet and clean 
 , and kept off contagion. Her brown skin flushed 
 with its unhindered current. She dipped into 
 this obscure questionable world only moment 
 arily, and came back to her father wholesome 
 and happy, except occasionally when some out 
 rageous gesture or word had stricken her into 
 weeping. 
 
 Then her father told her not to mind ; just 
 be good and sweet herself, and it would help 
 the others to be good too. He blundered some 
 times and struggled for words, and talked in 
 grotesque riddles, but she understood his mean 
 ing some way and was comforted. 
 
 She did not go to her aunt. She had heard 
 her say coarse words and she did not care to go 
 and tell her of these strange things. Her father 
 
 23
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 was her hero and guide. She went to him as 
 naturally as to a mother. It was a great thing 
 for him to achieve, but he did not know it. Ke 
 did not seek it. It was indeed thrust upon him. 
 He would gladly have escaped from it, but Rose 
 refused to listen to anyone else, so the puzzled 
 and disturbed father continued to be her timor 
 ous guide as a matter of need. 
 
 He could not understand her quick percep 
 tion something seemed to rise in the child to 
 help him explain. Germs of latent perception 
 seemed to spring up like a conjuror's magic seed, 
 here a kernel, there a tree. One by one obscure 
 ideas rose from the deep like bubbles, and burst 
 into thought in her conscious self. A hint, 
 organized in her brain long trains of sequential 
 conceptions, which she had inherited with her 
 sex. She did not require teaching on the most 
 fundamental problems of her nature. 
 
 Rose began to work early, but her work, like 
 her playing, was not that of other girls. As she 
 never played with dolls, caring more for hobby 
 horses, so she early learned to do work in the 
 barn. From taking care of make-believe stick 
 horses she came easily to take care of real 
 horses. 
 
 When a toddling babe she had moved about 
 under the huge plow-horses in their stalls, and 
 put straw about them, and patted their columnar 
 limbs with her little pads of palms, talking to 
 
 24
 
 DANGEROUS DAYS 
 
 them in soft indefinite gurgle of love and com 
 mand. 
 
 She knew how much hay and oats they 
 needed, and she learned early to curry them, 
 though they resented her first trials with the 
 comb. She cared less for the cows and pigs, 
 but before she was ten she could milk the "easy" 
 cows. She liked the chickens, and it was part 
 of her daily duty to feed the hens and gather 
 the eggs. 
 
 She could use a fork in the barn deftly as a 
 boy by the time she was twelve, and in stacking 
 times she handed bundles across the stack to 
 her father. It was the variety of work, perhaps, 
 which prevented her from acquiring that pathetic 
 and lamentable stoop (or crook) in the shoulders 
 and back which many country girls have in vary 
 ing degree. 
 
 All things tended to make her powerful, lithe 
 and erect. The naked facts of nature were hers 
 to command. She touched undisguised and 
 unrefined nature at all points. Her feet met not 
 merely soil, but mud. Her hands smelled of the 
 barn yard as well as of the flowers of the wild 
 places of wood and meadow. 
 
 Meanwhile her comradeship was sweet to John 
 Butcher. He hardly knew his loss of a son so com 
 pletely was he companioned by Rose. He had 
 put far away the time when she should wear shoes 
 and long dresses and become a "young lady." 
 
 25
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " Let her be, as long as you can," he said to 
 his sister. "She 's a mighty comfort to me now, 
 and she's happy; don't disturb her; time to 
 wear long dresses and corsets '11 come soon 
 enough without hurryin' things."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 AN OPENING CLOVER-BLOOM 
 
 There are times in a child's life when it leaps 
 suddenly into larger growth as the imprisoned 
 bud blooms larger than its promise, when the 
 green fist of its straining calyx loosens in the 
 warm glow of a May morning. Knowledge" 
 comes to the child, especially all the subtler 
 knowledge of time, of space, of love, in a vague, 
 indefinite, unconscious way, developing out of 
 the child's organic self precisely as the flower 
 blooms. 
 
 This knowledge comes to definite knowledge 
 for an instant only and then returns to the sub 
 conscious, waiting the next day of warm sun, 
 shining water and smell of spring. Each time 
 it stays longer, till at last the child can contem 
 plate its own thought and finally express it 
 These times form our real life epochs. 
 
 One day in June, a party of the school 
 children, with flashing tin pails and willow bas 
 kets, went up into the woods after the wild-wood 
 strawberries. It was late June and the straw 
 berries of the meadows and uplands were nearly 
 27
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 gone. The roads were dusty, the pastures 
 close-clipped. 
 
 Merry, bare-footed little creatures! They 
 started forth in the early morning while the dew 
 still flamed on the clover- leaves, and around 
 each corn-hill the ground was still moist. The 
 girls romped and picked wild flowers, the boys 
 threw stones at the chipmunks on the fence, 
 and tossed their tin pails in the air, performing 
 feats of deftness in imitation of the circus-men, 
 whom they had lately seen on the green at 
 Tyre. 
 
 They entered the forest and kept on up the 
 wood-road until it seemed as if they were ex 
 plorers. They had the delicious, tremulous 
 feeling of having penetrated into the primeval, 
 where nothing but the birds and animals lived. 
 On past cool deeps of poplar, where the man 
 drake grew, and the sweet fern spread its mag 
 nificent leaves. On until the strawberries ap 
 peared, growing in clumps on long swaying 
 stems, pale scarlet globes of delicious tartness. 
 
 They fell to work mostly in pairs. Curly- 
 haired Carl kept with Rose, and his sharp eyes 
 and knowledge of the patch enabled them to 
 fill their pails first; then they went about help 
 ing the others, whose voices babbled on like 
 streams. 
 
 Everywhere the pink sun-bonnets and ragged 
 straw hats bobbed up and down. Everywhere 
 28
 
 AN OPENING CLOVER-BLOOM 
 
 fresh voices. The sunlight fell in vivid yellow 
 patches through the cool odorous gloom. 
 Everywhere the faint odor of ferns and man 
 drakes and berries, and the faint rustle of leaves, 
 as if the shadows of the clouds trampled the 
 tree-tops. 
 
 There was something sweet and wild and 
 primeval in the scene, and the children were 
 carried out of their usual selves. Rose herself 
 danced and romped, her eyes flashing with 
 delight. Under her direction they all came to 
 gether on a little slope, where the trees were 
 less thick, and near a brook which gurgled 
 through moss-covered stones. 
 
 " O, let 's have our picnic here ! " 
 
 "All right, let 's ! " 
 
 They made short work of the lunch they 
 had. Their buttered biscuits were spread with 
 berries and mixed with water from the brook, 
 which the girls drank like the boys, that is, by 
 lying down on their breasts and drinking as the 
 hunter drinks. Their hunger eased they fell to 
 games. Games centuries old. Games which the 
 Skandinavians played in the edges of their 
 pine forests. Games the English lads and las 
 sies played in the oak-openings of middle-age 
 England. 
 
 The little ones were ruled out after awhile 
 and the five or six elder children (the oldest 
 only fourteen), went on with their games, which 
 29
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 told of love. They joined hands and circled 
 about Carl, they sang : 
 
 " King William was King James* son, 
 And from the royal race he run, 
 Upon his breast he wore a star, 
 Which points away to a conquest far. 
 Go choose you east, go choose you west, 
 Go choose the one that you love best." 
 
 Carl selected Rose, as they all knew he would. 
 They stood together now, holding hands. 
 
 " Down on this carpet you must kneel, " 
 (they knelt) 
 
 "As sure as the grass grows in the field. 
 Salute your bride with a kiss so sweet," 
 
 (Carl kissed her gravely) 
 " Now you rise upon your feet." 
 
 Again they circled, and again a little bride 
 and bridegroom knelt. The fresh young voices 
 rang under the spaces of the trees, silencing the 
 joy of the thrush. The flecking sunlight fell on 
 their towsled hair and their flushed faces. They 
 had forgotten home and kindred, and were liv 
 ing a strange new-old life, old as history, wild 
 and free once more, and in their hearts some 
 thing bloomed like a flower, something sweet 
 shook them all, something unutterable and 
 nameless, something magnificent to attain and 
 sorrowful to lose. 
 
 When they tired of "King William," they all 
 
 3
 
 AN OPENING CLOVER-BLOOM 
 
 flung themselves down on the grass and grew 
 quiet. Some of the girls made wreaths of 
 flowers strung on grass stems, while the boys 
 studied the insects under the chips and stumps, 
 or came slyly behind the girls and stuck spears 
 of fox-tail down their necks. Some of them 
 rolled down the bank. Carl, when he was tired 
 of this, came and lay down by Rose, and put 
 his head in her lap. Other bridegrooms did 
 the same with their brides. Some of the boys 
 matched violets, by seeing which would hook the 
 other's head off. 
 
 Silence fell on them. Some passion thrilled 
 Rose as she looked down into Carl's sunny blue 
 eyes. She brushed his hair as he looked up at 
 the clouds sailing above the trees like wonderful 
 mountains of snow. 
 
 She was thirteen years of age, but prophecy 
 of womanhood, of change, of sorrow, was in her 
 voice as she said slowly, a look not childish upon 
 her face : 
 
 " I'd like to live here forever, would n't you, 
 Carl?" 
 
 "I guess we'd have to build a house," said Carl, 
 the practical one. 
 
 She felt a terrible hunger, a desire to take his 
 head in her arms and kiss it. Her muscles ached 
 and quivered with something she could not 
 fathom. As she resisted she grew calm, but 
 mysteriously sad, as if something were passing
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 from her forever. The leaves whispered a mes 
 sage to her, and the stream repeated an occult 
 note of joy, which was mixed with sorrow. 
 
 The struggle of wild fear and bitter-sweet 
 hunger of desire this vague, mystical percep 
 tion of her sex, did not last, to Rose. It was 
 lost when she came out of the wood into the 
 road on the way homeward. It was a formless 
 impulse and throbbing stir far down below defi 
 nite thought. It was sweet and wild and inno 
 cent as the first coquettish love-note of the thrush, 
 and yet it was the beginning of her love-life. It 
 was the second great epoch of her life.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 HER FIRST PERIL 
 
 She came in contact during her school life 
 with a variety of teachers. Most of the women 
 she did not like, but one sweet and thoughtful 
 girl had her unbounded love and confidence. 
 She was from Madison, that was in itself a great 
 distinction, for the capital of the state had come 
 to mean something great and beautiful and 
 heroic to Rose. 
 
 There it was the governor lived. There the 
 soldiers went to enter the army, she remembered 
 hearing the neighbors say, and her father's 
 weekly paper was printed there. It was a great 
 thing to have come from so far away and from 
 Madison, and Rose hung about the door of the 
 school house at the close of the first day, hoping 
 the teacher would permit her to walk home by 
 her side. 
 
 The young teacher, worried almost to de 
 spair over the arrangement of her classes, did 
 not rise from her desk until the sun was low, 
 rolling upon the tree-fringed ridge of the west 
 ern bluff. 
 
 33
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 She was deeply touched to find this dusky- 
 complexioned, bare-legged girl waiting for her. 
 
 "It was very nice of you, Rose," she said, and 
 they walked off together. She talked about the 
 flowers in the grass, and Rose ran to and fro, 
 climbing fences to pick all sorts that she knew. 
 She did not laugh when the teacher told her the 
 botanical names. She wished she could remem 
 ber them. 
 
 " When you grow up you can study botany 
 too. But you must run home now, it 's almost 
 dark." 
 
 " I ain't afraid of the dark," said Rose stoutly, 
 and she went so far Miss Lavalle was quite 
 alarmed. 
 
 " Now you must go." 
 
 She kissed the child good-bye, and Rose ran 
 off with her heart big with emotion, like an 
 accepted lover. 
 
 It was well Rose turned to her for help, for 
 most of her teachers had not the refinement of 
 Miss Lavalle. They were generally farmers' 
 daughters or girls from neighboring towns, who 
 taught for a little extra money to buy dresses 
 with worthy girls indeed, but they expressed less 
 of refining thought to the children. 
 
 One day this young teacher, with Rose and 
 two or three other little ones, was sitting on a 
 sunny southward sloping swell. Her hands were 
 full of flowers and her great dark eyes were 
 
 34
 
 HER FIRST PERIL 
 
 opened wide as if to mirror the whole scene, a 
 valley flooded with light and warm with the 
 radiant grass of spring. She was small and dark 
 and dainty, and still carried the emotional char 
 acteristics of her French ancestry. She saw 
 nature definitely, and did not scruple to say so. 
 
 " O, it is beautiful ! " she said, as her eyes 
 swept along the high broken line of the Western 
 coule" ridge, down to the vast blue cliff where 
 the river broke its way into the larger valley. 
 " Children, see how beautiful it is ! " The chil 
 dren stared away at it, but Rose looked into the 
 teacher's eager face. Then her flowers dropped 
 to the ground, the sunlight fell upon her with a 
 richer glow, the dandelions shone like stars in a 
 heaven of green, the birds and the wind sang a 
 wild clear song in the doors of her ears, and her 
 heart swelled with unutterable emotion. She 
 was overpowered by the beauty of the world, as 
 she had been by its immensity that day on the 
 hill top with her father. 
 
 She saw the purple mists, the smooth, green, 
 warm slopes dotted with dandelions, and the 
 woodlands with their amber, and purple-gray, and 
 gray-green foliage. The big world had grown 
 distinctly beautiful to her. It was as though a 
 gray veil had been withdrawn from the face of 
 created things but this perception did not last. 
 The veil fell again before her eyes when the 
 presence of the teacher was withdrawn. She felt 
 
 35
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 the beautiful and splendid phases of nature and 
 absorbed and related them to herself, but she 
 did not consciously perceive except at rare 
 moments. 
 
 The men, who taught in winter, were blunt 
 and crude, but occasionally one of a high type 
 came. Some young fellows studying law, or 
 taking a course at some school, teaching to keep 
 their place or to go higher. These men studied 
 nights and mornings out of great Latin books 
 which were the wonder of the children. Such 
 teachers appealed to the better class of pupils 
 with great power, but excited rebellion in others. 
 
 It seemed a wonderful and important day to 
 Rose, the first time she entered the scarred and 
 greasy room in winter, because it was swarming 
 with big girls and boys. She toolc her seat at 
 one of the little benches on the north side of the 
 room, where all the girls sat. At some far time 
 the girls had been put on that, the coldest side 
 of the house, and they still sat there ; change was 
 impossible. 
 
 Rose was a little bit awed by the scene. The 
 big boys never seemed so rough, and the 
 big girls never seemed so tall. They were all 
 talking loudly, hanging about the old square 
 stove which sat in the middle of a puddle of 
 bricks. 
 
 She was an unimportant factor in the winter 
 school, however, for the big boys and girls 
 
 36
 
 HER FIRST PERIL 
 
 ignored the little ones, or ordered them out of 
 their games. 
 
 In winter also her physical superiority to the 
 other girls was less apparent, for she wore thick 
 shoes and shapeless dresses and muffled her head 
 and neck like the boys. 
 
 She plodded to school along the deep sleigh 
 tracks, facing a bitter wind, with the heart of a 
 man. It made her cry sometimes but there was 
 more of rage than fear in her sobbing. She 
 coughed and wheezed like the rest, but through 
 it all her perfect lungs and sinewy heart carried 
 her triumphantly. 
 
 The winter she was fourteen years of age 
 she had for teacher a girl whose beautiful pres 
 ence brought a curse with it. She was small 
 and graceful, with a face full of sudden tears and 
 laughter and dreams of desire. She fascinated 
 the children, and the larger boys woke to a 
 sudden savagery of rivalry over her, which no 
 one understood. The older boys fought over 
 her smiles and low-voiced words of praise. 
 
 The girls grew vaguely jealous or were abject 
 slaves to her whims. The school became farcical 
 in session, with ever-increasing play hours and 
 ever-shortening recitations, and yet such was the 
 teacher's power over the students they did not 
 report her. She gathered the larger girls around 
 her as she flirted with the young men, until 
 children like Carl and Rose became a part of it all. 
 
 37
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 At night the young men of the neighborhood 
 flocked about her boarding-place, absolutely 
 fighting in her very presence for the promise 
 which she withheld, out of coquettish perversity. 
 She herself became a victim of the storm of 
 passion which swept over the neighborhood. 
 She went out to parties and dances every night 
 and came languidly to school each morning. 
 Most of the men of the district laughed, but the 
 women began to talk excitedly about the stories 
 they heard. 
 
 At school the most dangerous practices were 
 winked at. The older boys did not scruple to 
 put their arms about the teacher's waist as they 
 stood by her side. All the reserve and purity 
 which is organic in the intercourse of most 
 country girls and boys seemed lost, and parties 
 and sleigh-rides left remorse and guilt behind. 
 There was something feverish and unwholesome 
 in the air. 
 
 The teacher's fame mysteriously extended to 
 Tyre, and when known libertines began to hitch 
 their horses at the fence before her house and to 
 enter into rivalry with the young men of the 
 neighborhood, then the fathers of the coul 
 suddenly awoke to their children's danger, and 
 turning the teacher away (tearful and looking 
 harmless as a kitten), they closed and locked the 
 school-house door. 
 
 Instantly the young people grew aware of 
 
 38
 
 HER FIRST PERIL 
 
 their out-break of premature passion. Some of 
 them, like Rose, went to their parents and told 
 all they knew about it. John Dutcher re 
 ceived his daughter's answers to his questions 
 with deep sorrow, but he reflected long before 
 he spoke. She was only a child, not yet fifteen; 
 she would outgrow the touch of thoughtless 
 hands. 
 
 He sent for Carl, and as they stood before 
 him, with drooping heads, he talked to them in 
 his low, mild voice, which had the power of 
 bringing tears to the sturdy boy's eyes. 
 
 " Carl, I thought I could trust you. You 've 
 done wrong don't you know it? You've 
 made my old heart ache. When you get old 
 and have a little girl you may know how I feel, 
 but you can 't now. I don 't know what I can 
 say to you. I don 't know what I am going to 
 do about it, but I want you to know what 
 you 've done to me both of you. Look into 
 my face now you too, Rose look into your 
 old father's face!" 
 
 The scared children looked into his face with 
 its streaming tears, then broke out into sobbing 
 that shook them to their heart's center. They 
 could not bear to see him cry. 
 
 " That's what you do to your parents when 
 you do wrong. I have n't felt so bad since your 
 mother died, Rose." 
 
 The children sobbed out their contrition and 
 
 39
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 desire to do better, and John ended it all at last 
 by saying, " Now, Carl, you may go, but I shall 
 keep watch of you and see that you grow up a 
 good, true man. When I see you 're real sorry 
 I '11 let you come to see Rose again." 
 
 After Carl went out, Rose pressed into his 
 ready arms. " I did n't mean to be bad, pappa." 
 
 " I know you did n't, Rosie, but I want you 
 to know how you can make me suffer by doing 
 wrong but there, there! don 't cry any more. 
 If you are good and kind and true like your 
 mother was you '11 out-grow this trouble. Now 
 run away and help get supper." 
 
 The buoyancy of a healthy child's nature 
 enabled her to throw off the oppression of that 
 dark day, the most terrible day of her life, and 
 she was soon cheerful again, not the child she 
 had been, but still a happy child. After a few 
 weeks John sent for Carl to come over, and they 
 popped corn and played dominos all the even 
 ing, and the innocency of their former childish 
 companionship seemed restored. 
 
 40
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 One June day a man came riding swiftly up 
 the lanes, in a buggy with a gilded box. As he 
 passed the school-house he flung a handful of 
 fluttering yellow and red bills into the air. 
 
 "A circus ! a circus ! " was the cry as the boys 
 rushed for the blowing sheets of paper. It was 
 a circus, the annual "monstrous aggregation of 
 Gregorian games and colossal cataracts of gilded 
 chariots," and it was coming to Tyre. 
 
 The children read every word of those high 
 sounding posters, standing in knots by the road 
 side. It was the mightiest event of their lives. 
 Most of them had never been to a circus. Many 
 had never been so far as Tyre. Some had, how 
 ever, and they straightway became fountains of 
 wisdom, and declaimed upon the splendors of 
 other aggregations. 
 
 Rose looked at the lines of knights and ladies 
 winding down the yellow broad-side of the 
 sheet, and wondered if she would ever see them. 
 
 The courier rode on. He flung a handful of 
 the bills over into the corn-field where Carl was
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 plowing corn with the hired man, and Carl 
 straightway began to plan. 
 
 He flung a handful of the alluring yellow 
 leaves into the bed of the wagon which poor old 
 John Rapp was driving, and he sighed and 
 wondered how he would raise the money to take 
 the children down, and also he longed to see it 
 himself. The whole county awoke to the signifi 
 cance of the event and began preparation and 
 plans, though it was nearly three weeks away. 
 An enormous distance it seemed to the boys and 
 girls. 
 
 At school and at church it was talked of. 
 The boys selected their girls, and parties of four 
 or six were made up to go to Tyre, ten miles 
 away, in the larger valley below. In some way, 
 without words, Rose agreed to go with Carl. 
 John Nixon and Ella Pierce made up the other 
 couple. They were to go in a "bowery wagon." 
 
 The whole population awoke to pathetic, ab 
 sorbing interest in the quality of the posters and 
 the probable truth of the fore-word. The circus 
 was the mightiest contrast to their slow and 
 lonely lives that could be imagined. It came in 
 trailing clouds of glorified dust and grouped it 
 self under vast tents whose lift and fall had 
 more majesty than summer clouds, and its 
 streamers had more significance than the light 
 ning. 
 
 It brought the throb of drum and scream of 
 42
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 fife, and roar of wild beast. For one day each 
 humdrum town was filled with romance like the 
 Arabian Nights ; with helmeted horsemen, glit 
 tering war maidens on weirdly spotted horses ; 
 elephants with howdahs and head-plates of 
 armor, with lions dreadful, sorrowful, sedate and 
 savage ; with tigers and hyenas in unmanageable 
 ferocity pacing up and down their gilded dens 
 while their impassive keepers dressed in red, sat 
 in awful silence amidst them. 
 
 There was something remote and splendid in 
 the ladies who rode haughtily through the streets 
 on prancing horses, covered with red and gold 
 trappings. There was something heroic, some 
 thing of splendid art in the pose of the athletes 
 in the ring. 
 
 From the dust and drudgery of their farms 
 the farm boys dreamed and dreamed of the 
 power and splendor of the pageantry. They 
 talked it each Sunday night as they sat up with 
 their sweethearts. The girls planned their 
 dresses and hats, and the lunch they were to 
 take. Everything was arranged weeks ahead. 
 Carl was to furnish one team, John the other; 
 Ella was to bring cake and jelly and biscuit ; 
 Rose to take a chicken and a short-cake. 
 
 They were to start early and drive a certain 
 route and arrive at the ground at a certain hour 
 to see the parade. After the parade they were to 
 take dinner at the hotel, and then the circus! No 
 
 43
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 court ball ever thrilled a young girl's heart like 
 this event. 
 
 It was trebly important to Rose. It was her 
 first really long dress. It was her first going 
 out into the world with an escort, and it was 
 her first circus. She trembled with excitement 
 whenever she thought of it, and sometimes 
 burst into tears at the uncertainty of it. It 
 might 'rain, she might be sick, or something 
 might happen ! 
 
 She worked away with feverish haste, trim 
 ming her hat and helping on her dress, which 
 was to be white, trimmed with real lace from the 
 store. Some dim perception of what it all meant 
 to his girl, penetrated John Butcher's head, and 
 he gave Rose a dollar to buy some extra ribbon 
 with, and told Mrs. Diehl to give the child a 
 good outfit. 
 
 On the night before the circus Carl could not 
 work in the corn. He drove furiously about the 
 neighborhood on inconsequential errands. He 
 called twice on Rose, and they looked into each 
 other's face with transports of fear and joy. 
 
 "O, if it should rain!" 
 
 " It won't. I just know it 's going to be fine. 
 Don't you worry. I am the son of a prophet. I 
 know it can't rain." 
 
 There was no real sleep for Rose that night. 
 Twice she woke from an uneasy doze, thinking 
 she heard the patter of rain, but listening close 
 
 44
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 she knew it was only the rustle of the cotton- 
 wood trees about the house. 
 
 Her room was a little rough-plastered garret 
 room, with an eastern window, and at last she 
 saw the yellow light inter-filtrate the dark-blue 
 of the eastern sky, and she rose and pattered 
 about in her bare feet, while she put up her hair 
 like a woman and slipped on her underskirt, 
 stiff with starch, and then her dress, with its 
 open-work sleeves and ruche of lace, threaded 
 with blue ribbon. She moved about on her bare 
 feet, rejoicing in the crisp rustle of her new 
 clothing, and put on her wide hat with its hectic 
 rose-buds and pans-green thick leaves. Her un- 
 distorted feet were the most beautiful of all, but 
 she did not know that. 
 
 She sat on the bed completely dressed, but 
 hardly daring to move for fear of waking her 
 aunt. She watched the yellow glow deepen to a 
 saffron dome of ever-spreading light. She knew 
 the weather signs herself, and she was sure the 
 day was to be hot but clear. She did not fear 
 the heat. 
 
 As she sat so, a feeling of joy, of realization 
 of the abounding goodness and sweetness of liv 
 ing, made her want to thank something to give 
 praise. She moved her lips in a little prayer of 
 thanks to the sun, as his first glittering rim of 
 light came above the low hills. 
 
 " Rosie !" called Mrs. Diehl. 
 
 45
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " I 'm up," she replied, and hastily drew on 
 her shoes and stockings. She took her hat in 
 her hands and went down the stairs and through 
 the little sitting room out to the doorstep. She 
 heard someone whistling. Then a shout of 
 laughter they were coming ! 
 
 She had packed her basket the night before, 
 and she stood ready at the gate when Carl and 
 his companions drove up. They had four 
 horses hitched to a large wagon, which was set 
 about with branches of oak and willow. Carl 
 was driving and Rose mounted to the front seat 
 with him. He cracked his whip and they whirled 
 away, leaving the old folks calling warnings 
 after them. 
 
 The sun was just rising, the dew was still 
 globed on the wild roses. The wagon rumbled, 
 the bower over their heads shook with the jar of 
 the wheels. The horses were fresh and strong 
 and the day was before them. Rose felt some 
 thing vague and sweet, something that laved the 
 whole world like sunlight. She was too happy 
 to sing. She only sat and dreamed. She felt 
 her clothes, but she was no longer acutely con 
 scious of them. 
 
 Carl was moved too, but his emotion vented 
 itself in shouts and cheery calls to the horses, 
 and to the pistol-like cracking of his whip. 
 
 He looked at her with clear-eyed admiration. 
 She abashed him a little by her silence. She 
 46
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 seemed so strangely womanly in that pose, and 
 the glow of her firm arms through her sleeve 
 was alien, somehow. 
 
 The road led around hill sides, under young 
 oak trees, across dappled sands, and over little 
 streams where the horses stopped to drink. It 
 was like some world-old idyl, this ride in a 
 heavy rumbling wagon ; it led to glory and 
 light, this road among the hills. 
 
 Rounding a long low line of bluffs they caught 
 the flutter of flags in Tyre, and saw the valley 
 spotted with other teams, crawling like beetles 
 down the sandy river roads. The whole land 
 seemed to be moving in gala dress toward Tyre. 
 Everywhere appeared the same expectancy, the 
 same exultation between lovers. 
 
 Carl pulled up with a flourish at the wooden 
 porch of the Farmers' Hotel, and the girls 
 alighted and went into the parlor, while the 
 boys took the horses into a back alley and gave 
 them their oats and hay in the end of the box. 
 
 As Rose walked into the parlor, filled with 
 other girls and young men, the proud conscious 
 ness of her clothes came back to her, and she 
 carried herself with a lift of the head, which 
 made her dark gipsy-like face look haughty as a 
 young queen's. She knew her dress was as good 
 as any other there, and she had no need to be 
 ashamed, and besides it was her first long dress, 
 and she wore low shoes. 
 
 47
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 The boys came bustling back and hurried 
 the girls out on the sidewalk. " They 're com 
 ing ! " they cried breathlessly, as a far-off burst of 
 music came in on a warm puff of wind. 
 
 On they came, a band leading the way. Just 
 behind, with glitter of lance and shine of 
 helmet, came a dozen knights and fair ladies 
 riding spirited chargers. They all looked 
 strange and haughty and sneeringly indifferent 
 to the cheers of the people. The women seemed 
 small and firm and scornful, and the men rode 
 with lances uplifted looking down at the crowd 
 with a haughty droop in their eyelids. 
 
 Rose shuddered with a new emotion as they 
 swept past. She had never looked into eyes 
 like those. They had wearied of all splendor 
 and triumph, those eyes. They cared nothing 
 for flaunt of flag or blast of bugle. They 
 rode straight out of the wonder and mystery 
 of the morning to her. They came from the 
 unknown spaces of song and story beyond the 
 hills. 
 
 The chariots rumbled by almost unheeded 
 by Rose. She did not laugh at the clown jig 
 gling by in a pony-cart for there was a face be 
 tween her and all that followed. The face of a 
 bare-armed knight, with brown hair and a curl 
 ing mustache, whose proud neck had a curve in 
 it as he bent his head to speak to his rearing 
 horse. He turned his face toward where Rose 
 
 48
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 stood, and her soul fluttered, and her flesh 
 shrank as if from fire, but he rode on. His 
 face was fine, like pictures she had seen. It 
 was a pleasant face, too proud, but not coarse and 
 stern like the others. 
 
 The calliope, (a musical monster, hideous as 
 the hippopotamus) and the dens of beasts went 
 past without arousing her interest; then the open 
 cage of lions rolled by with a trainer carelessly 
 seated on a camp stool amid his dun-colored 
 monsters. His gaudy red-and-gold continental 
 coat and his impassive face made a deep im 
 pression on her. At last the procession passed, 
 carrying with it swarms of detached boys and 
 girls, whose parents fearfully called after them 
 and unavailingly plead with them to come back 
 as they broke away. 
 
 "O, I wish it would all come by again!" 
 sighed Ella. 
 
 " So do I," said Carl. 
 
 Rose remained silent. Somehow those 
 knights and ladies dwarfed all else. She did 
 not look forward to eating a hotel dinner with 
 the same pleasure now, but was eager to get to the 
 tent, whose pennants streamed above the roofs 
 of the houses. 
 
 The hotel swarmed with farmer folks, whose 
 loud voices uttered shouts of satisfaction over 
 the promise of the parade. It was the best ever 
 seen in the town. 
 
 49
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " Right this way, ladies and gentlemen," said 
 the landlord, as he ushered Carl's party down to 
 a table at the end of the dining-room. 
 
 Rose felt a thrill of delight; she was a grown 
 up person at last. This landlord recognized her 
 assumption and it made the dinner almost en 
 joyable. She saw no one better dressed than 
 herself, and she had a feeling that she was good 
 to look at. She was really more beautiful than 
 she knew. A city drummer sitting at another 
 table eyed her all through the meal with breath 
 less admiration. Her health and color, and the 
 firm lines of her nose and chin were especially 
 attractive. 
 
 They all ate with unusual formality, using 
 their forks instead of knives for their pie, and 
 otherwise trying to seem citified. Ella laughed 
 at the antics John cut up over his fork, and the 
 sly digs that he gave Carl, who chased the crust 
 of his pie around his plate with a fork and at 
 last gave it up and seized it with his fingers. 
 
 No one noticed these pranks, because every 
 one else was carrying on in much the same way. 
 At length they rose and returned to the parlor, 
 where they sat about on the cheap red plush 
 chairs and waited for i o'clock. 
 
 "Well, it's about time to go," said Carl, on 
 one of his re-entries from the street. " Gee- 
 Whittaker! but it's hot out there!" 
 
 "It'll be cool under the tent."
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 "Well, come on." 
 
 Out on the street they joined the stream of 
 lovers like themselves, moving hand in hand 
 down the walk, assaulted by cries of lemonade, 
 candy and fruit hucksters. 
 
 The sun beat upon their heads ; a dust arose 
 from the feet of the passing teams and settled 
 upon the white dresses of the girls, and sank 
 through the meshes of their sleeves and gathered 
 in the moist folds of their ruches. They moved 
 on rapidly toward the clanging band, the flutter 
 of the pennants and the brazen outcries of the 
 ticket-takers. 
 
 On to the square before the tents, thronged 
 with innumerable people, an avenue of side 
 shows faced them like a gauntlet to be run. 
 Before each flapping sign of fat woman, or snake 
 charmer, stood a man who cried in strange, 
 clanging, monotonous and rhythmical voice : 
 
 "You still have a half an hour, ladies and 
 gentlemen, before the great show opens. Come 
 in and see the wonders of the world." 
 
 Before the ticket wagon a straggling, excited 
 crowd wrestled, suspicious, determined, hurried. 
 Leaving their girls in the more open space, the 
 boys drew deep breaths of resolution and plunged 
 into the press with set, determined faces. 
 
 They returned soon, hot, disarranged but tri 
 umphant. "Come on, girls." 
 
 They moved upon the main entrance, where
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 a man stood snatching at the tickets which were 
 handed to him. He was humorous, and talked 
 as he pushed the people in. 
 
 " Hurry up, old man ; trot close after your 
 mother. Have your tickets ready, everybody. 
 Yes, right this way, uncle. Bless your dear little 
 face right ahead. H'y'ere, bub, this ticket's 
 no good! Oh, so it is, I didn't see the right 
 side get on quick." 
 
 As Rose passed him he said, " You go in free, 
 my dear," and resumed his bawling cry, " Have 
 your tickets ready." 
 
 Under the tent ! Rose looked up at the lift 
 ing, tremulous, translucent canvas with such awe 
 as the traveler feels in St. Peter's dome. Her 
 feet stumbled on, while she clung to Carl's hand 
 without knowing it. O, the enormous crowds of 
 people, the glitter and change of it all! 
 
 They followed in the stream which flowed 
 around the circle of animal dens, and Rose 
 silently looked at all she saw. The others laughed 
 and exclaimed, but she did not. Everything 
 seemed inexplicable and mysterious, and roused 
 confusing trains of thought. 
 
 She saw the great tigers, and caught the yel 
 low-green sheen of their eyes. She saw the lions 
 rise like clouds of dust in their corners, silent as 
 mist and terrible as lightning. She looked at 
 the elephant and wondered how he could live 
 and be so like the toy elephants she had at 
 
 52
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 home. On past shrieking tropical birds and 
 grunting, wallowing beasts, and chattering 
 crowds of people she moved, without a word, 
 till they came around to the circus entrance, 
 and then she lifted her eyes again around the 
 great amphitheater. 
 
 " Peanuts, peanuts here, five a bag! " 
 " Here's your lemonade, cool and fresh." 
 On all sides brazen-voiced young men were 
 selling, at appalling prices, sticks of candy, 
 glasses of lemonade, palm-leaf fans and popcorn 
 balls. There was something about them that 
 frightened her, and she walked a little closer to 
 Carl. 
 
 They heard familiar voices call and saw some 
 young people from their coule", and so clambered 
 up where they sat. The boards were narrow and 
 the seats low, but nobody minded that, for that 
 was part of the circus. 
 
 They were settled at last and ready to enjoy 
 all that came. Two or three volunteered to say: 
 "This is great! the best place to see 'em come 
 in." Then they passed the peanut bag in reck 
 less liberality. 
 
 Rose sat in a dream of delight as the band 
 began to play. It was an ambitious band and 
 played operatic selections with modulations, and 
 it seemed to Rose to be the most splendid music 
 in the world. All other bands she had heard 
 played right along tum-tummy tum-tummy 
 
 53
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 tummy, tummy-tum. This band sang and talked 
 and whispered and dreamed. It shook her like 
 a stallion's neigh, and soothed her like the coo 
 of a dove on the barn roof. 
 
 She heard nothing, that was said about her, and 
 she did not know she sat squeezing Carl's arm. 
 
 People streamed by in enormous crowds. 
 Ladies in elegant dresses, and hats such as she 
 had never seen before. Handsome young men 
 went by, and yet she gave them no second look. 
 They were like figures in a dream. 
 
 At last the band blared an announcing note, 
 and the uniformed attendants filed into the ring 
 and took positions at set points like sentries. 
 Then the music struck into a splendid galop, 
 and out from the curtained mysteries beyond, 
 the knights and ladies darted, two and two, in 
 glory of crimson and gold, and green and silver. 
 At their head rode the man with the brown 
 mustache. 
 
 They came around into position, and then be 
 gan a series of bewildering changes, directed by 
 her knight, whose shout dominated the noise of 
 the horses and the blare of the band, with hollow 
 wild sound. 
 
 They vanished as they came, and then came 
 the clowns, and tricks and feats of strength. The 
 iron-jawed woman lifted incredible weights ; the 
 Japanese jugglers tossed cannon-balls, knives 
 and feathers; the baby elephant stood on his 
 
 54
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 head and then suddenly six men dressed in 
 tights of blue and white and orange ran into the 
 ring, and her hero led them. 
 
 He wore blue and silver, and on his breast 
 was a rosette. He looked a god to her. His 
 naked limbs, his proud neck, the lofty carriage 
 of his head, made her shiver with emotion. 
 They all came to her lit by the white radiance; 
 they were not naked, they were beautiful, but he 
 was something more. 
 
 She had seen naked boys, and her own com 
 panions occasionally showed themselves naked 
 and cowering before her, but these men stood 
 there proud and splendid. They invested their 
 nakedness with something which exalted them. 
 They became objects of luminous beauty to her, 
 though she knew nothing of art. 
 
 As she grew clearer- eyed, she saw that one 
 was a little too short, another too lean, but he of 
 the rosette was perfect. The others leaped, with 
 him, doing the same feats, but as distances were 
 increased, and the number of camels and horses 
 grew, the others stood by to see him make his 
 renowned double somersault over a herd of ani 
 mals. When the applause broke out she joined 
 it, while her temples throbbed with emotion. 
 To see him bow and kiss his fingers to the audi 
 ence was a revelation of manly grace and cour 
 tesy. He moved under the curtain, bowing still 
 to the cheering crowd. 
 
 55
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Once more he came back later on, leading a 
 woman by the hand. She too was in tights 
 throughout, and like him she walked with a 
 calm and powerful movement, but she seemed 
 petty beside him. 
 
 Something new seized upon Rose's heart, a 
 cold contraction that she had never felt, and 
 her teeth pressed together. She wondered if 
 the woman were his wife. 
 
 The woman seized a rope with her right arm 
 and was drawn to the tent roof. He took a 
 strap in his mouth and was drawn to his trapeze 
 also. There, in mid-air, they performed their 
 dangerous evolutions. It was all marvelous and 
 incredible to the country girl. 
 
 She heard him clap his hands, then his 
 glorious voice rang above the music, and the 
 lithe figure of his companion launched itself 
 through the air, was caught by the shoulders in 
 his great hands, thence with a twist he tossed 
 her, and hooked her by the hands. 
 
 Each time, the blood surged into Rose's 
 throat as if to suffocate her. A horrible fear 
 that was a pleasure, some way, rose and fell in 
 her. She could not turn away her head. She 
 must look. 
 
 She was a powerful girl, and the idea of 
 fainting had never come to her, but when at the 
 conclusion, he dropped in a revolving ball into 
 the net far beneath, she turned sick and her eyes 
 
 56
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 seemed to whirl in their sockets. Then as he 
 leaped to the ground, bowing and smiling, the 
 blood rushed back to her face, and the perspira 
 tion stood like rain on her face. 
 
 Thereafter riders came, and the clowns 
 capered, and the ring-master cracked his whip 
 and she enjoyed it, but it was an after-climax. 
 She saw it, but saw it dimly. Nothing but the 
 lions and their trainers aroused her to applause. 
 Her brain was full. It was a feast of glories 
 and her very hunger made her lay hold upon 
 the first that came, to the neglect of what came 
 after. 
 
 At last the brazen, resounding voice of the 
 ring-master announced the last of the show, 
 and the audience arose and moved out in a 
 curious sort of a hush, as if in sorrow to think 
 it was all over, and the humdrum world was 
 
 . 
 
 rushing back upon them. 
 
 Rose moved along in perfect silence, clinging 
 to Carl's hand. Around her was the buzz of 
 low speech, the wailing of tired and hungry 
 babies and the clamor of attendants selling 
 tickets for the minstrel show to follow. 
 
 Suddenly she perceived that her dress was 
 wet with perspiration and grimy with dust. She 
 saw all about her women with flushed faces and 
 grimy hands, their hats awry and their brows 
 wrinkled with trouble over fretful children. 
 The men walked along with their coats over 
 
 57
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 their arms, and their hats pushed back. The 
 dust arose under their feet with a strange smell. 
 Out in the animal tent the odor was stifling and 
 Rose hurried Carl out into the open air. 
 
 Somehow it seemed strange to see the same 
 "blue sky arching the earth; things seemed ex 
 actly the same and yet Rose had grown older. 
 She had developed immeasurably in those few 
 hours. It took her some time to fully recover the 
 use of her feet, and it took longer to get back a 
 full realization of where she was. 
 
 The grass, crushed and trampled and littered 
 with paper, and orange peel, gave out a fresh 
 farm-like odor, that helped her to recover her 
 self. She would not talk, she could not talk yet. 
 She only urged them to go home. She wanted 
 to get home to think. 
 
 As they climbed the slope on the other side 
 of the river, they looked back at the tents with 
 their wilted streamers, at the swarming bug-like 
 teams and the ant-like human beings, and it 
 seemed to Rose as if she should weep, so poig 
 nant was her sense of personal loss. 
 
 She knew something sweet and splendid and 
 jmystical was passing out of her life after a few 
 hours' stay there. Her feeling of loss was none 
 :the less real because it was indefinable to her. 
 
 The others chattered about each part of the 
 .show, and shouted admiration about this and 
 
 58
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 that feat, but Rose was silent. When they 
 stopped at sunset beside a spring to eat their 
 lunch she merely said : 
 
 " I do n't feel hungry." 
 
 The others fell silent after a time, and they 
 rode dreamily forward, with the roll of wheels 
 making them sleepy and the trample of the 
 horses' feet telling them how rapidly they were 
 leaving their great day's pleasure behind them. 
 
 When Rose huddled into her little attic bed, 
 her eyes were wide open, and her brain active as 
 at noonday. There was no sleep for her then. 
 Lying there in the darkness she lived it all over 
 again ; the flutter of flags, the wild voices, the 
 blare of music, the chariots, the wild beasts, the 
 knights and ladies, the surging crowds; but the 
 crowning glory, the pictures which lingered 
 longest in her mind were the splendid and beau 
 tiful men, whose naked majesty appealed to her 
 pure wholesome awakening womanhood, with the 
 power of beauty and strength combined, with 
 sex and art both included. 
 
 These glorious, glittering graceful beings 
 with their marvelous strength and bravery filled 
 her with a deep sad hunger, which she could not 
 understand. They came out of the unknown, 
 led by her chosen one, like knights in Ivanhoe. 
 
 She fell asleep thinking of the one in blue 
 and silver, and in her sleep she grew braver and 
 went closer to him, and he turned and spoke to 
 
 59
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 her, and his voice was like waters running, and 
 his eyes shone some way into her eyes like a 
 light. 
 
 When she rose the next day she was changed. 
 She moved about the house dull and languid. 
 Never before had she failed to sleep when her 
 head touched the pillow. She managed to be 
 alone most of the time, and at last her mind 
 cleared. She began to live for him, her ideal. 
 She set him on high as a being to be worshiped, 
 as a man fit to be her judge. 
 
 In the days and weeks which followed she 
 asked herself, "Would he like me to do this?" 
 or she thought, " I must not do that. What 
 would he think of me if he saw me now?" And 
 every night when she went to sleep it was with 
 the radiant figure in blue and silver before her 
 eyes. 
 
 When the sunset was very beautiful, she 
 thought of him. When the stars seemed larger 
 in the blue sky, she could see the star upon his 
 grand breast. She knew his name ; she had the 
 bill in her little box of trinkets, and she could 
 take it out and read, "William De Lisle, the 
 world-famous leader in ground and lofty tum 
 bling, in his stupendous leap over two elephants, 
 six camels and two horses." 
 
 In all the talk of the circus which followed 
 among her companions, she took no part be- 
 60
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 cause she feared she might be obliged to men 
 tion his name. When others spoke his name 
 she could feel a hot flush surge up all over her 
 body and she trembled for fear some one might 
 discover her adoration of him. 
 
 She went about with Carl and Rob as before, 
 only she no longer longed for them ; they 
 seemed good, familiar comrades, but nothing 
 more. To them she seemed stranger every day. 
 Her eyes had lost their clear, brave look ; they 
 were dreamy black, and her lids drooped. 
 
 Vast ambitions began in her. She de 
 termined to be a great scholar. She would be 
 something great for his sake. She could not de 
 termine what, but she, too, would be great. At 
 first she thought of being a circus woman, and 
 then she determined that was impossible. 
 
 She dreamed often of being his companion 
 and coming on hand in hand with him, bowing 
 to the multitude, but when she was drawn to the 
 tent-roof, she awoke in a cold sweat of fear, and 
 so she determined to be a writer. She would 
 write books like Ivanhoe. Those were great 
 days ! Her mind expanded like the wings of a 
 young eagle. She read everything ; the Ledger, 
 the Weekly, and all the dog-eared novels of im 
 passioned and unreal type in the neighborhood. 
 
 In short, she consecrated herself to him as to 
 a king, and seized upon every chance to edu 
 cate herself to be worthy of him. Every effort 
 61
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 was deeply pathetic, no matter how absurd to 
 others. She took no counsel, allowed no confi 
 dants. She lived alone among her play-mates. 
 
 This ideal came in her romantic and perfer- 
 vid period, and it did her immeasurable good. 
 It lifted her and developed her. It enabled her 
 to escape the clutch of mere brute passion which 
 seizes so many boys and girls at that age, and 
 leads to destructive early marriages. It kept 
 her out of reach of the young men of the neigh 
 borhood. 
 
 She did not refuse the pleasures of the 
 autumn and the winter, only she did not seem so 
 hearty in her enjoyment of the rides and parties. 
 She rode with the young fellows on moon-lit 
 nights, lying side by side with them on the 
 straw-filled bottom of the sleigh, and her heart 
 leaped with the songs they sang, but it all went 
 out towards her ideal; he filled the circle of her 
 mind. The thought of him made the night 
 magical with meaning. As she danced with 
 Carl it was her hero's arm she felt. At night, 
 when Carl left her on the door-step, she looked 
 up at the stars and the sinking moon, and lifted 
 her face in a wild vow, inarticulate " I will be 
 worthy of him! "That was the passionate resolu 
 tion, but it did not reach to the definiteness of 
 words. 
 
 As she worked about the house she took 
 graceful attitudes, and wished he might see her; 
 62
 
 HER FIRST IDEAL 
 
 he would be pleased with her. The grace and 
 power of her arm acquired new meaning to her. 
 Her body, she recognized, had something the 
 same statuesque pose of his. In the secrecy of 
 her room she walked up and down, feeling the 
 splendid action of her nude limbs muscled 
 almost like his. And all this was fine and pure 
 physical joy. Her idea remained indefinite, 
 wordless. 
 
 These were days of formless imaginings and 
 ambitions. "I will do! 1 will do!" was her 
 ceaseless cry to herself, but what could she do? 
 What should she do? 
 
 She could be wise; that she would be. So she 
 read. She got little out of her reading that she 
 could make a showing of, but still it developed 
 her. It made her dream great things, impossi 
 ble things, but she had moments when she tried 
 to live these things. 
 
 Meanwhile her manners changed. She be 
 came absent-minded, and seemed sullen and 
 haughty to her companions at times. She never 
 giggled like the rest of the girls. She had fine 
 teeth, and yet her smile was infrequent. She 
 laughed when occasion demanded, and laughed 
 heartily, but she was not easily stirred to laughter. 
 
 Just in proportion as she ignored the young 
 beaux, so they thronged about her. One or two 
 of them eyed her with a look which made her 
 angry. She took refuge in Carl's company, and 
 
 63
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 so escaped much persecution, for Carl was grow 
 ing to be a powerful young man, with fists like 
 mauls, and was respected among the athletes of 
 the neighborhood. 
 
 She did not realize that she would need at 
 some time to settle with Carl. She accepted his 
 company as a matter of course. He filled social 
 requirements for the time being. 
 
 Her teacher that winter was a plaintive sort 
 of a little middle-aged man, a man of consider 
 able refinement, but with little force. Rose liked 
 him, but did not respect him as she had two or 
 three of the men who had filled the teacher's chair. 
 She could not go to him for advice. 
 
 As the winter wore on the figure of "William 
 De Lisle" grew dimmer, but not less beautiful. 
 Her love for him lost its under-current of inarticu 
 late expectancy; it was raised into a sentiment so 
 ethereal it would seem a breath of present pas 
 sion would scatter it like vapor, and yet it was 
 immovable as granite. Time alone could change 
 it. He still dominated her thought at quiet 
 times, at dark when the stars began to shine, but 
 in the daytime he was faint as a figure in a 
 dream. 
 
 64
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 ROSE MEETS DR. THATCHER 
 
 The school-house in Butcher's coule", like most 
 country school-houses, was a squalid little den. 
 It was as gray as a rock and as devoid of beauty 
 as a dry goods box. It sat in the midst of the 
 valley and had no trees, to speak of, about it, 
 and in winter it was almost as snow-swept as the 
 school-houses of the prairie. 
 
 Its gray clap-boarding was hacked and scarred 
 with knife and stone, and covered with mud and 
 foul marks. A visitor who had turned in from 
 the sun-smit winter road paused before knock 
 ing and looked at the walls and the door with a 
 feeling of mirth and sadness. Was there no 
 place to escape the obscene outcome of sexual 
 passion ? 
 
 Dr. Thatcher had been a pupil here in this 
 same school-house more than twenty years 
 before, and the droning, shuffling sound within 
 had a marvelous reawakening power. He was a 
 physician in Madison now, and was in the coule* 
 on a visit. 
 
 His knock on the door brought a timid-look 
 ing man to the door. 
 
 65
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " I 'd like to come in awhile," said the 
 Doctor. 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," replied the teacher, 
 much embarrassed by the honor. 
 
 He brought him the chair he had been sitting 
 on, and helped his visitor remove his coat and 
 hat. 
 
 " Now don't mind me, I want to see every 
 thing go on just as if I were not here." 
 
 "Very well, that's the way we do," the 
 teacher replied, and returned to his desk and 
 attempted, at least, to carry out his visitor's 
 request. 
 
 A feeling of sadness, mingled with something 
 wordlessly vast, came over the Doctor as he sat 
 looking about the familiar things of the room. 
 
 He was in another world, an old, familiar 
 world. His eyes wandered lovingly from point 
 to point of the room, filled with whispering lips 
 and shuffling feet and shock-heads of hair, under 
 which shone bright eyes, animal-like in their 
 shifty stare. The curtains, of a characterless 
 shade, the battered maps, the scarred and 
 scratched blackboards, the patched, precarious 
 plastering, the worn floor on which the nails 
 and knots stood like miniature mountains, the 
 lop-sided seats, the master's hacked, unpainted 
 pine desk, dark with dirt and polished with 
 dirty hands, all seemed as familiar as his own 
 face. 
 
 66
 
 ROSE MEETS DR. THATCHER 
 
 He sat there listening to the recitations in a 
 dreamy impassivity. He was deep in the past, 
 thinking of the days when to pass from his seat 
 to the other side of the room was an event; when 
 a visitor was a calamity for the teacher ; when 
 the master was a tyrant and his school-room a 
 ceaselessly rebellious kingdom. 
 
 As his eyes fell at last more closely upon 
 the scholars; he caught the eyes of a young 
 girl looking curiously at him, and so deep was 
 he in the past, his heart gave a sudden move 
 ment, just as it used to leap when in those far- 
 off days Stella Baird looked at him. He smiled 
 at himself for it. It was really ludicrous; he 
 thought, "I '11 tell my wife of it." 
 
 The girl looked away slowly and without 
 embarrassment. She was thinking deeply, look 
 ing out of the window. His first thought was, 
 " She has beautiful eyes." Then he noticed 
 that she wore her hair neatly arranged, and that 
 her dress, though plain, looked tasteful and 
 womanly about the neck. The line of her head 
 was magnificent. Her color was rich and dark ; 
 her mouth looked sad for one so young. Her 
 face had the effect of being veiled by some warm, 
 dusky color. 
 
 Was she young? Sometimes as he studied 
 
 her she seemed a woman, especially as she 
 
 looked away out of the window, and the profile 
 
 line of her face could be seen. But she looked 
 
 67
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 younger when she bent her head upon her books, 
 and her long eye-lashes fell upon her cheek. 
 
 His persistent study brought a vivid flush 
 into her face, but she did not nudge her com 
 panion and whisper as another would have done. 
 
 "That is no common girl," the Doctor con 
 cluded. 
 
 He sat there while the classes were called up 
 one after the other. He heard again these in 
 flections, tones, perpetuated for centuries in the 
 school-room, "The-cat-saw-a-rat." 
 
 Again the curfew failed to ring, in the same 
 hard, monotonous, rapid, breathless sing-song, 
 every other line with a falling inflection. The 
 same failure to make the proper pause caused it 
 to appear that "Bessie saw him on her brow." 
 
 Again the heavy boy read the story of the 
 ants, and the teacher asked insinuatingly sweet 
 questions. 
 
 "What did they do?" 
 
 "Made a tunnel." 
 
 "Yes ! Now what is a tunnel?" 
 
 "A hole that runs under-ground." 
 
 "Very good! It says that the ant is a 
 Voracious creature. What does that mean?" 
 
 "Dunno." 
 
 "You do n't know what a voracious creature 
 js?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 And then came the writing exercise, when 
 68
 
 ROSE MEETS DR. THATCHER 
 
 each grimy fist gripped a pen, and each red 
 tongue rolled around a mouth in the vain effort 
 to guide the pen. Cramp, cramp ; scratch, 
 scratch ; sputter! What a task it was ! 
 
 The December afternoon sun struck in at the 
 windows, and fell across the heads of the busy 
 scholars, and as he looked, Dr. Thatcher was a 
 boy again, and Rose and her companions were 
 the "big girls" of the school. He was looking 
 at Stella, the prettiest girl in the district, the 
 sun-light on her hair, a dream of nameless pas 
 sion in her eyes. 
 
 The little room grew wide as romance, and 
 across the aisle seemed over vast spaces. Girlish 
 eyes met his like torches in the night. The 
 dusty air, the shuffle of feet, the murmuring of 
 lips only added to the mysterious power of the 
 scene. 
 
 There they sat, these girls, just as in the far- 
 off days, trying to study, and succeeding in 
 dreaming of love songs, and vague, sweet em 
 braces on moonlight nights, beneath limitless 
 star-shot skies, with sound of bells in their ears, 
 and the unspeakable glory of youth and pure 
 passion in their souls. 
 
 The Doctor sighed. He was hardly forty yet, 
 but he was old in the history of disillusion and 
 in contempt of human nature. His deep-set 
 eyes glowed with an inward fire of remem 
 brance. 
 
 69
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "O pathetic little band of men and women," 
 thought he, " my heart thrills and aches for 
 you." 
 
 He was brought back to the present with 
 a start by the voice of the teacher. 
 
 " Rose, you may recite now." 
 
 The girl he had been admiring came for 
 ward. As she did so he perceived her to be not 
 more than sixteen, but she still had in her eyes 
 the look of a dreaming woman. 
 
 " Rose Butcher is our best scholar," smiled 
 the teacher proudly as Rose took her seat. She 
 looked away out of the window abstractedly as 
 the teacher opened the huge geography and 
 passed it to the Doctor. 
 
 " Ask her anything you like from the first 
 fifty-six pages." The Doctor smiled and shook 
 his head. 
 
 " Bound the Sea of Okhotsk," commanded 
 the teacher. 
 
 Thatcher leaned forward eagerly her voice 
 would tell the story! 
 
 Without looking around, with her hands in 
 her lap, an absent look in her eyes, the girl 
 began in a husky contralto voice : " Bounded 
 on the north " and went through the whole 
 rigmarole in the same way, careless, but certain. 
 
 " What rivers would you cross in going from 
 Moscow to Paris ? " 
 
 Again the voice began and flowed on in the 
 70
 
 ROSE MEETS DR. THATCHER 
 
 same measured indifferent way till the end was 
 reached. 
 
 " Good heavens !" thought the Doctor, " they 
 still teach that useless stuff. But how well she 
 does it!" 
 
 After some words of praise, which the girl 
 hardly seemed to listen to, she took her seat 
 again. 
 
 Rose, on her part, saw another man of grace 
 and power. She saw every detail of his dress. 
 His dark, sensitive face, and splendid slope of 
 his shoulders, the exquisite neatness and grace 
 of his collar and tie and coat. But in his 
 eyes was something that moved her, drew her. 
 She felt something subtile there, refinement and 
 sorrow, and emotions she could only dimly feel. 
 
 She could not keep hei eyes from studying 
 his face. She compared him with " William De 
 Lisle," not deliberately, always unconsciously. 
 He had nothing of the bold beauty of her ideal. 
 This man was a scholar, and he was come out of 
 the world beyond the Big Ridge, and besides, 
 there was mystery and allurement in his face. 
 
 The teacher called as if commanding a regi 
 ment of cavalry. "Books. Ready!" There 
 was a riotous clatter, which ended as quickly as 
 it begun. 
 
 Kling ! They all rose. Kling / and the boy? 
 moved out with clumping of heavy boots and 
 burst into the open air with wild whoopings.
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 The girls gathered into little knots and talked, 
 glancing furtively at the stranger. Some of 
 them wondered if he were the County Superin 
 tendent of Schools. 
 
 Rose sat in her seat, with her chin on her 
 clasped hands. It was a sign of her complex 
 organization, that the effect of a new experience 
 was rooted deep, and changes took place noise 
 lessly, far below the surface. 
 
 "Rose, come here a moment," called the 
 teacher, " bring your history." 
 
 " Don't keep her from her playmates," 
 Thatcher remonstrated. 
 
 " O she 'd rather recite any time than play 
 with the others." 
 
 Rose stood near, a lovely figure of wistful 
 hesitation. She had been curiously unembar 
 rassed before, now she feared to do that which 
 was so easy and so proper. At last she saw her 
 opportunity as the teacher turned away to ring 
 the bell. 
 
 She touched Thatcher on the arm. "Do 
 you live in Madison, sir? " 
 
 "Yes. I am a doctor there." 
 
 She looked embarrassed now and twisted her 
 fingers. 
 
 " Is it so very hard to get into the univer 
 sity? " 
 
 " No. It is very easy it would be for you," 
 he said with a touch of unconscious gallantry 
 72
 
 ROSE MEETS DR. THATCHER 
 
 of which he was ashamed the next moment, for 
 the girl was looking away again. " Do you 
 want to go to the university? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I do." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " O, because I want to know all I can." 
 
 "Why? What do you want to do? " 
 
 "You won't tell on me, will you?" She 
 blushed red as a carnation now. Strange mix 
 ture of child and woman, thought Thatcher. 
 
 " Why, certainly not." 
 
 They stood over by the black-board ; the 
 other girls were pointing and snickering, but 
 she did not mind them. 
 
 "I guess I won't tell," she stammered; 
 " you 'd laugh at me like everybody else I 
 know you would." 
 
 He caught her arm and turned her face 
 toward his; her eyes were full of tears. 
 
 "Tell me. I '11 help you." 
 
 His eyes glowed with a kindly smile, and she 
 warmed under it. 
 
 " I want to write stories and books," she 
 half whispered guiltily. The secret was out 
 and she wanted to run away. The Doctor's 
 crucial time had come. If he laughed! but he 
 did not laugh. He looked thoughtful, almost 
 sad. 
 
 " You are starting on a long, long road, 
 Rose," he said at last. " Where it will lead to I 
 
 73
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 cannot tell nobody can. What put that into 
 your head?" 
 
 Rose handed him a newspaper clipping con 
 taining a brief account of " how a Wisconsin 
 poetess achieved fame and fortune." 
 
 " Why, my dear girl," he began, " don 't you 
 know that out of ten thousand " He stopped. 
 She was looking up at him in expectation, her 
 great luminous grey-brown eyes burning with 
 an inward hungry fire which thrilled him. 
 
 " She may be the one in ten thousand, and 
 I '11 help her," he said to himself. 
 
 The bell ringing brought the boys clattering 
 back into their seats, puffing, gasping, as if at 
 last extremity. For a couple of minutes noth 
 ing could be done, so great was the noise. 
 While they were getting settled he said to her: 
 " If you want to go to the university you 
 will have to go to a preparatory school. Here 
 is my card write to me when you get done 
 here, and I '11 see what can be done." 
 
 Rose went back to her seat, her eyes filled 
 with a burning light, her hands strained together. 
 This great man from Madison had believed in 
 her. O, if he would only come home and see 
 her father! 
 
 She painfully penciled a note and handed it 
 to him as she came past to the blackboard. He 
 was putting on his coat to go, but he looked 
 
 74
 
 ROSE MEETS DR. THATCHER 
 
 down at the crumpled note, with its Spencerian 
 handwriting. 
 
 "Please, sir, won't you come down and see 
 pappa and ask him if I can 't go to Madison?" 
 
 He looked at the girl, whose eyes, big and 
 sombre and full of wistful timidity, were fixed 
 upon him. Obeying a sudden impulse, he 
 stepped to her side and said: "Yes, I'll help 
 you ; do n't be troubled." 
 
 He stayed until school was out and the winter 
 sun was setting behind the hills. Rose sat and 
 looked at him with more than admiration. She 
 trusted him. He had said he would help her, 
 and his position was one of power in her fancy, 
 and something in his face and dress impressed 
 her more deeply than any man she had ever 
 seen save "William De Lisle," her dim and 
 shadowy yet kingly figure. 
 
 On his part he was surprised at himself. He 
 was waiting a final hour in this school-room out 
 of interest and curiosity in a country school 
 girl. His was a childless marriage, and this girl 
 stirred the parental in him. He wished he had 
 such a child to educate, to develop. 
 
 The school was out at last, and, as she put on 
 her things and came timidly towards him, he 
 turned from the teacher. 
 
 "So you are John Butcher's daughter? I 
 knew your father when I was a lad here. I am 
 
 75
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 stopping at the Wallace farm, but I'll come over 
 a little later and see your father." 
 
 Rose rushed away homeward, full of deep 
 excitement. She burst into the barn where John 
 was rubbing the wet fetlocks of the horses he had 
 been driving. Her eyes were shining and her 
 cheeks were a beautiful pink. 
 
 " O, pappa, he said I ought to go to Madison 
 to school. He said he 'd help me go." 
 
 John looked up in astonishment at her excite 
 ment. 
 
 "Who said so?" 
 
 "Dr. Thatcher, the man who visited our 
 school to-day. He said I'd ought to go, and 
 he said he 'd help me." 
 
 Her exultation passed suddenly. Somehow 
 there was not so much to tell as she had fancied, 
 and she suddenly found herself unable to explain 
 the basis of her enthusiasm. The perceived, but 
 untranslatable expression of the Doctor's eyes 
 and voice was the real foundation of her hope, 
 and that she had not definitely and conscious 
 ly noted to explain it was impossible. If 
 her father could only have seen him ! 
 
 "I guess you 'd better wait awhile," her father 
 said, with a smile, which Rose resented. 
 
 "He's coming to-night." 
 
 "Who 'she?" 
 
 " Dr. Thatcher. He used to live here. He 
 knows you." 
 
 76
 
 ROSE MEETS DR. THATCHER 
 
 John grew a little more intent on her news. 
 
 " Does ! I wonder if he is old Stuart 
 Thatcher's son? He had a boy who went east 
 to school somewheres." 
 
 Rose went into the house and set to work 
 with the graceful celerity which Mrs. Diehl 
 called " knack." 
 
 " Rose, you can turn off work when you really 
 want to, to beat anything I ever see." 
 
 Rose smiled and hummed a tune. Mrs. Diehl 
 was made curious. 
 
 " You 're wonderful good-natured, it seems to 
 me. What's the reason, already?" 
 
 " We 're going to have company." 
 
 "Who, for Peter's sake?" 
 
 "Dr. Thatcher." 
 
 "What's he come here for?" 
 
 "To see pappa," said Rose, as she rushed 
 upstairs into her attic-room. It was cold up 
 there, warmed only by the stove-pipe from the 
 sitting-room, but she sat down and fell into a 
 dream in which she recalled every look and word 
 he had given her. 
 
 She came suddenly to herself, and began 
 putting on her red dress, which was her com 
 pany dress. When she came downstairs in her 
 creaking new shoes Mrs. Diehl was properly 
 indignant. 
 
 "Well! I declare. Could n't you get along 
 in your calico?" 
 
 77
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "No, I could n't!" Rose replied, with easy 
 sharpness, which showed the frequent passages 
 at arms between them. 
 
 When Thatcher came in with the teacher he 
 was quite startled by the change in her. She 
 looked taller and older and more intricate some 
 way. 
 
 She took his hat and coat and made him at 
 home in much better form than he had reason to 
 think she knew. She on her part watched him 
 closely. His manner at the table was a source 
 of enlightenment to her. She felt him to be a 
 strong man, therefore his delicacy and considera 
 tion meant much to her. It suggested related 
 things dimly. It made her appreciate vaguely 
 the charm of the world from whence he came. 
 
 Dr. Thatcher was not young, and his experi 
 ence as a physician had added to his natural 
 insight. He studied Rose keenly while he talked 
 with John concerning the changes in the neigh 
 borhood. 
 
 He saw in the girl great energy and resolu 
 tion, and a mental organization not simple. She 
 had reason and reserve force not apprehended 
 by her father. The problem was, should he 
 continue to encourage her. Education of a 
 girl like that might be glorious or tragic! 
 After supper John Dutcher took him into the 
 corner, and, while Rose helped clear away the 
 dishes, the two men talked. 
 78
 
 ROSE MEETS DR. THATCHER 
 
 " You see," John explained, " she's been 
 tallcin' about going on studyin' for the last six 
 months. I do n't know what's got into the girl, 
 but she wants to go to Madison. I suppose her 
 learnin' of that Bluff-Sidin' girl goin' has kind 
 o' spurred her on. I want her to go to the high 
 school at the Sidin', but she wants to go away " 
 he choked a little on that phrase "but if 
 you an' teacher here think the girl 'd' ought to 
 go, why, I '11 send her." 
 
 The younger man looked grave very grave. 
 He foresaw lonely hours for John Butcher. 
 
 "Well the girl interests me very much, 
 Mr. Butcher. It's a strong point in her favor 
 that she wants to go. Most girls of her age 
 have little ambition beyond candy and new 
 dresses. I guess it 's your duty to send her. 
 What she wants is the larger life that will come 
 to her in Madison. The preparatory work can 
 be done here at the Siding. I believe it is one 
 of the accredited schools. Of course she will 
 come home often, and when she comes to Madi 
 son, I will see that she has a home until she gets 
 ' wunted,' as you farmers say." 
 
 The teacher came in at this point full of wild 
 praise of Rose's ability. " She's great on history 
 and geography. She knows about every city 
 and river and mountain on the maps." 
 
 " She's always been great for geography," 
 confirmed John. " Used to sit and follow out 
 
 79
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 lines on the maps when she wasn 't knee-high to 
 a 'tater." A tender tone came into his voice, 
 .almost as if he were speaking of a dead child. 
 He too had a quick imagination, and he felt al 
 ready the loss of his girl, his daily companion. 
 
 The matter was decided there. " You send 
 her to me, when she gets ready, and I '11 have 
 Mrs. Thatcher look after her for a week or so, 
 .till we find her a place to stay." 
 
 Rose was in a fever of excitement. She saw 
 the men talking there, and caught disconnected 
 words as she came and went about the table. 
 At last she saw Dr. Thatcher rise to go. She 
 approached him timorously. 
 
 "Well, Rose, when you come to Madison you 
 must come to our house. Mrs. Thatcher will be 
 glad to see you." She could not utter a word 
 .in thanks. After he had gone Rose turned to 
 her father with a swift appeal. 
 
 " Oh, pappa, am I going ?" 
 
 He smiled a little. "We'll see when the 
 time comes, Rosie." 
 
 She knew what that meant and she leaped 
 with a joy swift as flame. John sat silently look 
 ing at the wall, his arm flung over the back of 
 his chair. Hs wondered why she should feel so 
 happy at the thought of leaving home, when to 
 Tiim it was as bitter as death to think of losing 
 'her for a single day out of his life. 
 
 Thenceforward the world began to open to 
 80
 
 ROSE MEETS DR. THATCHER 
 
 Rose. Every sign of spring was doubly signifi 
 cant; the warm sun, the passing of wild-fowl, 
 the first robin, the green grass, the fall of the 
 frost, all appealed to her with a power which 
 transcended words. All she did was only prep 
 aration for her great career beyond the Ridge. 
 
 She pictured the world outside in colors of 
 such splendor that the romance of her story- 
 papers seemed weak and pale. 
 
 Out there in the world was William De Lisle. 
 Out there were ladies with white faces and heavy- 
 lidded, haughty eyes, in carriages and in ball 
 rooms. Out there was battle for her, and from 
 her quiet coule" battle seemed somehow alluring. 
 
 81
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 LEAVING HOME 
 
 As the time for leaving came on Rose had 
 hours of depression, wherein she wondered if it 
 were worth while. Sometimes it began when 
 she noticed a fugitive look of sorrow on her 
 father's face, and sometimes it was at parting 
 with some of her girl friends, and sometimes it 
 was at thought of Carl. She had spent a year in 
 the Siding in preparation for the work in Madi 
 son, and the time of her adventure with the 
 world was near. 
 
 Carl came to be a disturbing force during 
 those last few weeks. He had been a factor in 
 all of the days of her life. Almost without 
 thought on her part she had relied upon him. 
 She had run to him for any sort of material 
 help, precisely as to a brother, and now he was 
 a man and would not be easily set aside. 
 
 He generally drove her to meeting on Sun 
 day, and they loitered on the shady stretches of 
 the coul roads. He generally put his arm 
 around her, and she permitted it because it was 
 the way all the young fellows did, but she really 
 82
 
 LEAVING HOME 
 
 never considered him in the light of a possible 
 husband. 
 
 Most of the girls were precocious in the direc 
 tion of marriage, and brought all their little 
 allurements to bear with the same object in view 
 which directs the coquetry of a city belle. At 
 sixteen they had beaux, at seventeen many of 
 them actually married and at eighteen they 
 might often be seen riding to town with their 
 husbands, covered with dust, clasping wailing 
 babes in their arms ; at twenty they were often 
 thin and bent in the shoulders, and flat and stiff 
 in the hips, sallow and querulous wives of 
 slovenly, careless husbands. 
 
 Rose did not hold that Carl had any claim 
 upon her. The incidents of two years before 
 were lived down, both by herself and Carl, for as 
 manhood and womanhood came to them they 
 put away all that which they had done in the 
 thoughtlessness of childhood. To Rose it was 
 an unpleasant memory, because associated with 
 her father's grief. She supposed Carl to feel in 
 the same way about it, and so no allusion to it was 
 ever made by any one. 
 
 But Carl was grown to be a great stalwart 
 young fellow, with the blood and sinew of a 
 man, and the passions of a man were developing 
 in his rather thick head. The arm which he 
 laid along the buggy seat was less passive and 
 respectful of late. It clutched in upon her at 
 
 83
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 times; though she shook herself angrily each 
 time, he merely laughed. 
 
 So matters stood when she told him she was 
 going away to school in Madison. 
 
 "That so?" he said, and not much else till 
 the next Sunday. With all the week to think 
 about it in, he began to ask himself in current 
 slang, "Where do I come in ?" 
 
 So the next time they drove together he tried 
 again to tighten his arm about her while he 
 said: 
 
 " I '11 miss you, Rosie." 
 
 "So '11 pap," she said. 
 
 There was a long pause, then he said : 
 "What's the use o' going away anyhow? I 
 thought you an' me was goin' to be married 
 when we grew up." 
 
 She shook herself free. " We ain't grown up 
 yet." 
 
 "I guess we won't never get our growth, 
 then," he said with a chuckle; "you don't need 
 that extra schoolin' any more 'n I do." 
 
 They rode in silence down the beautiful val 
 ley, with the charm of early autumn lying 
 over it. 
 
 " You must n't go and forget me off there in 
 Madison," he said, giving her a squeeze. 
 
 "Carl, you stop that! You must n't do that! 
 I '11 jump out o* the buggy if you do that again! " 
 
 There was genuine anger in her voice. 
 
 84
 
 LEAVING HOME 
 
 "Why, it's all right, Rosie; ain't we en 
 gaged?" 
 
 " No, we 're not, and we never will be, 
 either." 
 
 There was a note in her voice that struck 
 through even Carl's thick thought. He did not 
 reply, but continued to dwell upon that reply 
 until its entire meaning came to him. Then his 
 face became pitiful to see. It was usually round 
 and red, but now it looked long and heavy and 
 bitter. He was so infertile of phrases he could 
 only say: 
 
 "Then we might as well drive right back 
 home." 
 
 "Well, you made me say it," she went on in 
 a softer tone, being much moved by the change 
 in his face. "I like you, Carl, but I'm not a-goin' 
 to promise anything. I '11 see when I come 
 back, after I graduate." 
 
 They drove on. She was not much more of 
 a talker than he, and so they rode in silence that 
 was sullen on Carl's part. At the gate she re 
 lented a little. "Won't you come in, Carl?" 
 
 "No, I guess not," he said shortly, and 
 drove off. 
 
 After she went in the house she felt more and 
 more the injustice of her anger. "If he had n't 
 pinched me like that," she said to herself. 
 
 She went to work at her packing again, put 
 ting in things she would not possibly have any 
 
 85
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 use for. As she worked the ache and weariness 
 at her heart increased, and when they called her 
 to supper the tears were falling again like a 
 shower. It was a silent and miserable meal, 
 though the doors and windows were open and 
 the pleasant sounds of the farm-yard came in, 
 and the red light of the setting sun shone in 
 magically warm and mellow. 
 
 John ate slowly, his eyes fixed on his plate. 
 Rose ate not at all and looked out of the win 
 dow, with big tears rolling childishly down her 
 cheeks. She did n't want to go at all now. Her 
 home seemed all at once so comfortable and 
 happy and safe! 
 
 John looked up and saw her tears, and imme 
 diately he was choked and could not eat. 
 
 "There, there! Rosie, don't cry. We'll be 
 all right, and you '11 be back almost 'fore you 
 know it. June comes early in the summer, you 
 know." They were both so childlike they did 
 not consider it possible to come home before the 
 year was up. She came around and knelt down 
 by his side and buried her face on his knees. 
 
 "I wish I hadn't promised to go," she 
 wailed; "I do n't want to go one bit. I want to 
 stay with you." 
 
 He understood her feeling and soothed her 
 and diverted her, though tears would have been 
 a relief to him. 
 
 She went with him out to the barn, and she 
 86
 
 LEAVING HOME 
 
 cried over the bossies and the horses, and said 
 good-by to them under her breath, so that her 
 father might not hear. 
 
 When she went to bed she lay down discon 
 solate and miserable. O it was so hard to go, 
 and it was hard not to go. Life was not so 
 simple as it had seemed before. Why did this 
 great fear rise up in her heart? Why should she 
 have this terrible revulsion at the last moment? 
 So she thought and thought. Her only stay in 
 the midst of chaos was Dr. Thatcher. William 
 De Lisle was very far away, like a cold white star. 
 
 Just as she made up her mind that she 
 could not sleep, she heard her father call her. 
 
 " Rose, time to get up ! " 
 
 Her heart contracted with a sharp spasm 
 that almost made her scream. The time had 
 come for action momentous, irrevocable ac 
 tion, like Napoleon's embarking from Elba for 
 France. 
 
 It was very chill and dark. She rose and 
 groped about for a light. Her teeth chattered 
 with cold and it seemed to her she was going 
 to be sick. She dressed hurriedly and went 
 down. 
 
 John and her aunt were seated at breakfast. 
 She slipped into her seat, white and silent. It 
 was still dark and the lighted lamps made it 
 seem like a midnight meal. 
 
 John was strenuously cheerful. "We have to 
 
 87
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 get up early if we get that seven o'clock train," 
 he said. 
 
 "Better take some coffee anyhow," urged 
 Mrs. Diehl. 
 
 " O, I can 't eat a thing," Rose insisted. 
 
 " Do n't worry her, sis," interposed John. 
 " She '11 feel like it later." 
 
 While John went to get the team Rose got 
 on her things and walked about, uttering a 
 little moaning sound, like a babe in delirium. 
 It was terrible to hear her and Mrs. Diehl lost 
 patience at last. 
 
 " Stop that fuss ! Good land ! anybody 'd 
 think you was goin' to die dead as a hammer, 
 the way you take on, and after all the time 
 we 've had gettin' you ready. I declare to 
 goodness I never see such a young 'un in all 
 my born days. I will be glad to get rid of 
 you 1 " 
 
 This was good strong medicine to Rose, and 
 she uttered no more of her grief. She punished 
 her aunt by refusing to say good-bye at the 
 door, which grieved John very much. 
 
 "You folks had a tiff this morning a 'ready ?" 
 
 It was cold and damp. The wind pushed 
 against their faces like the touch of wet palms. 
 The horses splashed along in pools of water, 
 and out of the dim light the hills rose against 
 the sky full of soft sprawling rain-clouds. 
 
 They rode in silence. Rose saw no more of 
 88
 
 LEAVING HOME 
 
 the splendid visions of the world. It was all 
 dark and rainy ahead. Home, and peace, and 
 comfort were all behind her. She was so mis 
 erable it seemed as if she must cry out, but her 
 aunt's contemptuous words helped her to silence. 
 
 John talked a little about the trains on the 
 road, and the weather, but talk was an effort to 
 him also. As he rode he thought of it all 
 again. He felt as if he were losing his heart, 
 but he did not waver. 
 
 He helped her on the cars and then stooped 
 and hugged her hard without kissing her, and 
 so stumbled out again, while she sat white and 
 rigid, breathing hard. 
 
 The sun came out after a little, and covered 
 the earth with a glory that found its way into 
 the girl's heart. She ceased to sob, and the 
 ache passed out of her throat, although the 
 shadow still hung in her eyes. 
 
 The car interested her. It seemed a palace 
 and of enormous size. She figured out the 
 number of people it would hold, and wondered 
 how the seats which were turned the other way 
 came to be so. The car was mainly occupied by 
 men in careless clothing. Everybody seemed 
 sleepy and unkempt. She wondered where they 
 all came from, and so speculating, she lost 
 something of her poignant sorrow. 
 
 Then came one moment of quiet elation. 
 She was going out into the world ! the enormous, 
 
 89
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 the incredible had happened ! She was going to 
 Madison, the state capital. The speed of the 
 train, which seemed to her very great, aided her 
 to realize how swiftly she was getting into the 
 world. The fields and farms whirled by in 
 dizzying fashion, and the whistle of the engine 
 was like the furious, defiant neigh of a rushing 
 horse. It was all on a scale more splendid than 
 her dreams. 
 
 In the midst of her exultant moment the 
 brakeman came through and eyed her with the 
 glare of a sex-maniac. She felt as if a hot iron 
 had touched her flesh, and she shrank back into 
 herself, like a scared mollusk. The man passed 
 on, but her exultation was gone. 
 
 She noticed that the hills grew lower as they 
 sped southward, and queer rocks rose squarely 
 out of the flat lands, which were covered with 
 wild swamps of small trees, out of which long 
 skeletons of dead pines lifted with a desolate 
 effect. 
 
 There were several tunnels, and every time 
 they went through one Rose clung to the seat in 
 terror. Some young men in the rear of the car 
 smacked their lips to represent kisses, and 
 laughed boisterously afterward, as if that were a 
 very good joke indeed. 
 
 The conductor, when he came through the 
 :next time, eyed her closely and smiled broadly. 
 ;She did not understand why he should smile at 
 90
 
 LEAVING HOME 
 
 her. After he had been through the car several 
 times he came and sat down by her. 
 
 "Nice day, ain't it ? Live in Madison?" 
 
 "No, sir," she replied, looking away. She 
 did not want to say more, but some power made 
 her add, "I am going to school there." 
 
 He seemed pleased. 
 
 "Ah, hah ! Going to the university ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "O, I see." He put his knee against the 
 back of the seat in front of her and took an easy 
 position. 
 
 "It 's a nice town. Wish I could stop off and 
 help you find a boarding-place." 
 
 The brakeman, coming through, winked at 
 the conductor as if to say : " I like your ' mash,' " 
 and the terror and shame of her position flashed 
 over Rose, flushing her from head to foot. Her 
 eyes filled with angry tears, and she looked out 
 of the window, not knowing what to do. She 
 was so helpless here, for she was out in the world 
 alone. 
 
 The conductor went on serenely, knowing 
 well how scared and angry she was. 
 
 "Yes, sir; it's a fine little town. Great 
 place for boating, summer or winter. You '11 
 see a hundred ice-boats out on Monona there all 
 at once. I 've got a cousin there who has a boat. 
 He 'd be glad to take you out if I 'd tell him 
 about you."
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " I do n't want to know him," she said, in 
 what she intended to be a fierce tone, but which 
 was a pitifully scared tone. 
 
 The conductor saw the brakeman looking at 
 him and in order to convey the impression that 
 he was getting on nicely he bent forward and 
 looked around into her face. 
 
 " O, you 'd like him first rate." 
 
 Rose would have screamed, or burst out into 
 some wild action had not the engine whistled. 
 This gave the conductor an excuse to give the 
 talk up for the moment. 
 
 " She 's a daisy and as green as grass," he 
 said to the brakeman. Her innocence seemed 
 to place her in his hand. 
 
 For the next hour they persecuted the girl 
 with their low presences. First one and then 
 the other came along the aisle and sat down be 
 side her. And when she put her valise there, 
 blocking the seat, the brakeman sat on the arm 
 rest and tormented her with questions to which 
 she gave no answer. 
 
 Just after Pine City she heard a cool, firm 
 woman's voice ask : " May I sit with you? " 
 
 She looked up and made room for a hand 
 some, middle-aged woman, in a neat traveling 
 dress. 
 
 " It 's a shame! " she said. " I 've just got in, 
 but I saw at once how those men were torturing 
 
 92
 
 LEAVING HOME 
 
 you. Strange no one in the car could see it and 
 take your part." 
 
 Rose turned to her gratefully, and laid her 
 head on the lady's stalwart shoulder. 
 
 " There, there, no harm done ! You must 
 learn to expect such things from some men. It 
 would be libelous on the brutes to call them 
 beasts." She said a great many things which 
 Rose hardly understood, but her presence was 
 strong and helpful. Rose liked her very much. 
 
 " How far are you going ? " 
 
 Rose told her in a few words. 
 
 "Ah, are you? You could not have made a 
 better choice. Who sends you there pardon 
 me?" 
 
 "Dr. Thatcher." 
 
 " Dr. Thatcher ! Well, well, how things 
 come about. I know the Doctor very well." 
 
 "Do you? I'm going to live there for a 
 while." 
 
 Rose was smiling now. 
 
 " Well, you couldn 't be more fortunate. 
 You '11 get into the most progressive home in 
 the city." 
 
 From this on they had a royal good time. 
 Rose grew happier than she had been for weeks. 
 There was something strangely masterful about 
 this woman in spite of her sweet smile and soft 
 gray eyes. 
 
 93
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 When the conductor came down the aisle 
 again she met his eye with a keen, stern glance. 
 
 "Young man, I shall have you discharged 
 from this road." 
 
 The astonished cur took her card, and when 
 he read the name of a famous woman lawyer of 
 Milwaukee his face fell. 
 
 " I did n't mean any harm." 
 
 " I know better. I shall see Mr. Millet, and 
 see that he makes an example of you." 
 
 Rose was awed by her calm and commanding 
 voice. 
 
 "It has been our boast that our girls could 
 travel from east to west in our broad land, and 
 tie safe from insult, and I 'm not going to let 
 such a thing pass." 
 
 She returned to her grave sweet mood pres 
 ently, and began to talk of other things. 
 
 As they neared the town where they were to 
 part company, the elder woman said: 
 
 " Now, my dear, I am to get off here. I may 
 never see you again, but I think I shall. You 
 interest me very much. I am likely to be in 
 Madison during the year, and if I do I will see 
 you. I am getting old though, and things of 
 this life are uncertain to us with gray hair. I 
 like that forehead on you, it tells me you are not 
 to be a victim to the first man who lays his hand 
 on you. Let me give one last word of advice. 
 Do n't marry till you are thirty. Choose a pro- 
 
 94
 
 LEAVING HOME 
 
 fession and work for it. Marry only when you 
 want to be a mother." 
 
 She rose. " You do n't understand what I 
 mean now, but keep my words in your mind. 
 Some day you will comprehend all I mean 
 good-bye." Rose was tearful as Mrs. Spencer 
 kissed her and moved away. 
 
 Rose saw her on the steps and waved her 
 hand back at her as the train drew away. Her 
 presence had been oppressive in spite of her 
 kindness, and her last words filled the girl's 
 mind with vague doubts of life and of men. 
 Everything seemed forcing her thoughts of mar 
 riage to definiteness. Her sex was so empha 
 sized, so insisted upon by this first day's experi 
 ence in the world, that she leaned her head 
 against the window and cried out: " O, I wish I 
 was dead." 
 
 But the train shot round the low green hills 
 fringed with the glorious foliage of the maples, 
 the lake sparkled in the afternoon's sun, the 
 dome of the capitol building loomed against the 
 sky, and the romance and terror of her entry 
 into the world came back to her, driving out her 
 more morbid emotions. She became again the 
 healthy country girl to whom Madison was a 
 center of art and society and literature. 
 
 95
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ROSE ENTERS MADISON 
 
 The train drew up to a long platform swarm 
 ing with people, moving anxiously about with 
 valises in hand, broad-hatted and kindly ; many 
 of them were like the people of the coule*. But 
 the young hackmen terrified her with their 
 hard, bold eyes and cruel, tobacco-stained 
 mouths. 
 
 She alighted from the car, white and tremu 
 lous with fear, and her eyes moved about anx 
 iously. When they fell upon Thatcher the 
 blood gushed up over her face, and her eyes 
 filled with tears of relief. 
 
 "Ah, here you are! " he said with a smile, as 
 he shook her hand and took her valise. " I be 
 gan to fear you 'd been delayed." 
 
 She followed him to the carriage with down 
 cast eyes. Her regard for him would not per 
 mit her to say a word, even when they were 
 seated together in the carriage and driving up 
 the street. Her breath came so quick and 
 strange the Doctor noticed it. 
 
 " A little bit excited about it, aren't you?" 
 96
 
 ROSE ENTERS MADISON 
 
 he smilingly said. " I remember how I felt 
 when I went to Chicago the first time. I sup 
 pose this seems like Chicago to you. How did 
 you leave the people in the coule", all well?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," she replied without looking up. 
 
 "Well, now you are about to begin work. 
 I 've got everything all arranged. You are to 
 stay with us for the present at least. My niece 
 is with us and you will get along famously I 
 know. How do you like my horse? " he asked, 
 in his effort to get her to speak. 
 
 She studied the horse critically. 
 
 " First rate ! " she said at last. 
 
 He laughed. " Well, I am glad you like 
 him, for I know you are a judge. He is a pretty 
 good stepper, too, though he has n't quite 
 enough fling in his knees, you notice. I '11 let 
 you drive him some time." 
 
 He drew up before a pretty cottage, set in 
 the midst of a neat lawn. It was discourag- 
 ingly fine and handsome to the girl. She was 
 afraid it was too good for her to enter. 
 
 A very blonde young girl came dancing out 
 to the block. 
 
 " O Uncle Joe, did Rose " Rose suddenly 
 appeared. 
 
 " This is Rose. Rose, this is our little chat 
 ter-box." 
 
 "Now, Uncle Joe! Come right in, Rose. 
 I 'in going to call you Rose, mayn't I ?" 
 
 97
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Mrs. Thatcher, a tall thin woman, welcomed 
 Rose in sober fashion, and led the way into the 
 little parlor, which seemed incredibly elegant to 
 the shy girl. 
 
 She sat silently while the rest moved about 
 her. There was a certain dignity in this reserve, 
 and both Mrs. Thatcher and Josie were im 
 pressed by it. She was larger and handsomer 
 than either of them and that gave her an ad 
 vantage, though she did not realize that. She 
 was comparing in swift, disparaging fashion her 
 heavy boots with their dainty soft shoes, and 
 wondering what she could do to escape from 
 them. 
 
 "Josie, take her right up to her room," said 
 Mrs. Thatcher, " and let her get ready for din 
 ner." 
 
 " Yes, come up, you must feel like a good 
 scrub." 
 
 Rose flushed again, wondering if her face 
 had grown grimy enough to be noticeable. 
 
 The young girl led Rose into a pretty room 
 with light green walls, and lovely curtains at 
 the windows. There were two dainty little beds 
 occupying opposite corners. 
 
 " We 're to occupy this room together," said 
 Josie. " This is my dressing case and that 's 
 yours." 
 
 Rose saw at once Josie had given her the 
 best one. Josie bustled about helping her lay 
 98
 
 ROSE ENTERS MADISON 
 
 off her things, pouring water for her and talk 
 ing on with gleeful flow. 
 
 " I 'm awful glad you 've come. I know 
 we '11 be just as thick ! I wish you were in my 
 classes though, but you won't be, so Doctor says. 
 Do n't you think this is a nice room ? " 
 
 Rose washed her hands as quickly as possible 
 because they looked so big and dingy beside 
 the supple whiteness of Josephine's. She felt 
 dusty and coarse and hopeless in the midst of 
 this exquisite room, the most beautiful room 
 she had ever seen. 
 
 Her eyes moving about fell upon a picture 
 which had the gleam of white limbs in it. 
 Josephine followed her look: "O, that's young 
 Samson choking the lion. I just love that; 
 is n't he lovely ? " 
 
 Rose blushed and tried to answer but could 
 not. The beautiful splendid limbs of the 
 young man flamed upon her with marvelous 
 appeal. It was beautiful, and yet her training 
 made her think it somehow not to be talked 
 about. 
 
 Josephine led the way downstairs into the 
 little parlor, which was quite as uncomfortably 
 beautiful as the bed-room. The vases and flow 
 ers, and simple pictures, and the piano, all 
 seemed like the furnishings of the homes she 
 had read about in stories. 
 
 But dazed as she was she kept her self-corn- 
 
 99
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 mand, at least she kept silence and sat in som 
 bre, almost sullen dejection amid it all. Mrs. 
 Thatcher hardly knew what to think of her, but 
 the Doctor comprehended her mood better for 
 he had passed through such experiences himself. 
 He talked to her for a few minutes about her 
 plans, and then they went out to dinner. 
 
 Rose entered the dining-room with a great 
 fear in her heart. She longed to run away and 
 hide. 
 
 " O I do n't know anything ! " was the bitter 
 cry welling up in her throat again and again, 
 and she nearly cried out upon the impulse. 
 
 The Doctor liked to have his dinner at one, 
 and so Rose found two knives, and two forks at 
 her plate, and two spoons also. She had read 
 in stories of banquets, and she saw that this was 
 to be her greatest trial. She sat very stiff and 
 silent as the soup was brought on by the Nor 
 wegian girl. 
 
 She took the plate as it was handed her, and 
 handed back the one which was turned down 
 with the napkin on top of it. The Norwegian 
 girl smiled broadly and handed them both back. 
 Then Rose saw her mistake and the hot blood 
 swept over her brown face in a purple wave. 
 
 The Doctor and his wife passed it in silence. 
 Josie fortunately was talking to the cat and did 
 not see it. 
 
 Rose could hardly touch her soup, which was 
 100
 
 ROSE ENTERS MADISON 
 
 delicious ; her whole mind was filled with a de 
 sire to escape as soon as possible. 
 
 Which of the knives should she use first, and 
 what was the extra little plate for, were the dis 
 turbing questions. She could use a fork, but 
 she was afraid of betraying herself in the minutiae 
 of the service. As a matter of fact she got 
 along very well, but of that she had no knowl 
 edge. 
 
 Some way she lived through the dainty dinner, 
 scarcely tasting anything of it. At the close of 
 it Mrs. Thatcher said : 
 
 "Wouldn't you like to lie down for a little 
 while? aren't you tired?" Rose hardly knew 
 what weariness was, but she assented because 
 she wished to be alone. 
 
 "I'll call you at three, may I ?" asked 
 Josie, who was wildly in love with Rose already. 
 
 "O, isn't she big and splendid, but she's 
 queer," she said when she came down. 
 
 " That '11 wear off," said the Doctor. " She 
 feels a little strange now. I know all about it. 
 I went from a farm to the city." 
 
 Rose hardly dared lie down on the spotless 
 bed. A latent good taste in her enabled her to 
 see in every detail harmony of effect, and 
 herself as the one discordant note in the house. 
 O, how dirty and rough and awkward she 
 was ! 
 
 Looking out of the window she saw a couple 
 101
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 of ladies come out of a large house opposite and 
 walk down toward a carriage which waited at the 
 gate. The ladies held their dresses with a dainty 
 action of their gloved hands as they stood for a 
 moment in consultation. (How graceful their 
 hats were !) Then they entered the carriage. 
 
 As they gathered their soft dresses about their 
 limbs and stooped to enter the door, the flexile 
 line of waist and hip and thigh came out beauti 
 fully, modestly. 
 
 They were a revelation of elegance and 
 grace to the farmer's daughter. Their gaiters 
 were of the same color as their dresses. This 
 was most wonderful of all. Such unity and 
 completeness of attire was unknown to her 
 before. She looked down at her red dress, 
 which Mattie Teel had cut out for her, and she 
 saw it in all its deformity. The sleeves did n't 
 fit like Josie's did. It did n't hang right ; it just 
 wrinkled all around her waist, and hung in 
 bunches, and she knew it. And her hat, made 
 over from her last winter's hat, was awful. 
 
 She might just as well die or go back home, 
 and never go out of the coul again. She was 
 nothing but a great country gawk, anyway. 
 
 In this bitter fashion she raged on, lying face 
 downward on the sofa. She lay there until she 
 heard dancing steps, and Josie called out: 
 "May I come in ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Rose coldly. 
 
 102
 
 ROSE ENTERS MADISON 
 
 " O, you 've been having a good cry, I know ! 
 I just like to go off and have a good cry that 
 way. It makes your eyes red, but you can fix 
 that. Just sit still now and let me see what I 
 can do." 
 
 She bustled about and Rose let her bathe her 
 face with cool water and cologne, and fuss about. 
 Her little fingers were like a baby's and she 
 murmured and gurgled in the goodness of her 
 heart like a kitten. Rose actually fell asleep 
 under her touch. 
 
 Josie stopped astonished and startled for a 
 moment, and then tip-toed out of the room like 
 a burglar, and told Mrs. Thatcher all about it. 
 
 "And O, auntie, she 's very poor, is n't she ? 
 Her clothes " 
 
 " Tut," warned Mrs. Thatcher, " you must be 
 careful not to notice that. Edward, is she so 
 very poor ? " 
 
 The Doctor, seated at his desk in the little 
 office, looked up a moment. 
 
 " No, I do n't think so. It is lack of judgment 
 partially. A little tact and taste will fix her all 
 right. Dutcher is fairly well-to-do, and she is all 
 he has. He wrote me to get her what she 
 needed, but I'll leave that to you girls." 
 
 Josie danced with delight. Buying things 
 for yourself was fun, but buying for another was 
 ecstasy ! 
 
 "The poor child hasn't a dress that she can 
 103
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 wear without alteration, and she is such a splendid 
 creature, too. I can 't conceive how they failed 
 to fit her." 
 
 "It seems to me that putting her beside Josie 
 is pretty hard on her. I am afraid you are 
 not conversant with the wardrobe of farmer's 
 girls." 
 
 "Well, I did n't suppose and the other room- 
 is so small." 
 
 "O, well, it all depends upon Josie. Josie, 
 come here." 
 
 The girl rose up, and he put his arm around 
 her. 
 
 " Now, my kitten, you must be very careful 
 not to allude to any little mistakes Rose makes." 
 
 " O, Uncle Ed you know" 
 
 "Yes, I know chatterboxes mean all right, 
 but they forget. Now, Rose is going to be a 
 great scholar and she is going to be a lady, very 
 quick, too; but she is awkward, now, and my 
 little girl must n't make it hard for her." 
 
 After Josie went out, Thatcher said : 
 
 "I know just how the girl feels. I went 
 through it myself. It 's hard, but it won't hurt 
 her, only do n't try to talk it over with her. If 
 she 's the girl I think she is, she '11 work the 
 whole matter out in a week herself. More than 
 that, let me talk to her myself. If she 's rested, 
 ask her to come down." 
 
 Rose came into the Doctor's office in a numb 
 104
 
 ROSE ENTERS MADISON 
 
 sort of timidity, for there was a great change in 
 the Doctor. He was hardly the same man who 
 had eaten at their table. She could n't describe 
 it, but there was something in his voice which 
 awed her. He sat now surrounded by his pro 
 fessional books and tools, which gave him dig 
 nity in her eyes. 
 
 "Sit down, Rose," he said, "I want to talk 
 with you. I 've had a letter from your father 
 about you and your expenses." 
 
 And then, in some way, she never knew 
 exactly how, he talked away her bitterness and 
 gave her hope and comfort. He advised about 
 books, and said : "And you '11 need some little 
 things which Bluff Siding does n't keep. Mrs. 
 Thatcher will drive you up town to-morrow and 
 you can get what you need. Your father has 
 deposited some money here to pay your expenses. 
 I am going over to University Hill to make a 
 call; perhaps you'd like to go." 
 
 She assented, and went to get her hat. 
 
 It was the largest town she had ever seen, and 
 the capitol was wonderful to her, set in its park, 
 where squirrels ran about on the velvet green of 
 the grass. The building towered up in the sky, 
 just as she had seen it in pictures. Swarms of 
 people came and went along the hard, blue-black 
 paths, and round it the teams moved before the 
 stores of the square. It was all mightily impres 
 sive to her. 
 
 105
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 They passed the Public Library, and the 
 Doctor said : 
 
 " You '11 make great use of that, I imagine." 
 
 She could not make herself believe that. She 
 saw students coming and going on the street, and 
 they all seemed so gay and well dressed. 
 
 " All this will trouble you for a little while," 
 the Doctor said. " When I came to the Univer 
 sity the first time I seemed like a cat in a bath 
 tub. I thought everybody was laughing at me, 
 but, as a matter of fact, nobody paid any atten 
 tion to me at all. Then I got mad, and I said, 
 ' Well, I '11 make you pay attention to me before 
 I 'm done.' " The Doctor smiled at her and she 
 had the courage to smile back. It was wonder 
 ful how well he understood her. 
 
 He drove her around the Lake drive. It 
 was beautiful, but in her depression the more 
 beautiful anything was the more it depressed 
 her. The Doctor did not demand speech of her, 
 well knowing she did not care to talk. 
 
 " I 'mnot mistaken in the girl," he said to his 
 wife when they were alone. " She has immense 
 reserve force I feel it. Wait until she straight 
 ens up and broadens out a little, you '11 see ! 
 There 's some half-savage power in her, mag 
 netism, impelling quality. I predict a great 
 future for her if " 
 
 " If what ? " 
 
 " If she do n't marry. She is passionate, will- 
 106
 
 ROSE ENTERS MADISON 
 
 ful as a colt. It seems impossible she has come 
 thus far without entanglement. She 's going to 
 be very handsome when she gets a little more at 
 ease. I thought her a wonderful creature as she 
 sat in that schoolroom, with the yellow sun 
 striking across her head. She appeared to me 
 to have destiny in her favor." 
 
 " She 's fine, but I think you 're over-enthu 
 siastic, Edward." 
 
 " Wait and see. She is n 't a chatter-box like 
 Josie, that is evident." 
 
 " In fact, my dear," he went on to say after a 
 silence, " I should like to adopt her I mean, of 
 course, take a particular interest in her. She 
 has appealed to me very strongly from the first. 
 You can be a mother to Josie and I '11 be a 
 father to Rose." 
 
 There was something sombre under his smil 
 ing utterance of these words. Their eyes did 
 not meet, and there was a silence. At last the 
 Doctor said : 
 
 " The girl 's physical perfection is wonderful. 
 Most farmers' girls are round in the shoulders, 
 and flat in the hips, but Rose has grown up like 
 a young colt. Add culture and ease to her and 
 she '11 mow a wide swath, largely without know 
 ing it, for the girl is incapable of vanity." 
 
 The wife listened with a brooding face. 
 Rose 's splendid prophecy of maternity op 
 pressed her some way. 
 
 107
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 When the girls went up to bed, terror and 
 homesickness and depression all came back upon 
 Rose again. She sat down desolately upon the 
 little cream-and-gold chair and watched Josie as 
 she pattered about taking down her hair and ar 
 ranging it for the night. She could not help 
 seeing the multitude of bottles and little combs 
 and powder puffs and boxes and brushes which 
 Josie gloated over, seeing that Rose was inter 
 ested. 
 
 They were presents, she said, and named the 
 givers of each. It was a revelation to Rose of the 
 elegancies of a dainty, finicky girl's toilet. She 
 thought of the ragged wash-brush and wooden- 
 backed hair-brush and horn comb which made 
 up her own toilet set, and grew hot and cold. 
 
 Josephine was delighted to have some one sit 
 and stare in that admiring way at her, therefore 
 she displayed all her paces. She brushed her 
 hair out with her ivory-backed brush, and laid 
 out all her beautiful underwear, trimmed with 
 lace and embroidered in silk. She did it with 
 out malice, but Rose thought of her worn cotton 
 things, shapeless and ugly. She never could 
 undress before Josephine in the world! 
 
 She delayed and delayed until Josie had cud 
 dled down into her bed with her little pink nose 
 sticking out, and her merry eyes blinking like 
 the gaze of a kitten. Rose waited, hoping those 
 bright eyes would close, but they would not. 
 108
 
 ROSE ENTERS MADISON 
 
 At last a desperate idea came to her. She 
 sprang up and went to the gaslight. 
 
 " How do you put this out?" she asked. 
 
 Josie gurgled with laughter. " Just turn that 
 thingamabob underneath. Yes, that turn it 
 quick that's right. O, ain't it dark! But you 
 ain't undressed yet, and the matches are out in 
 the bathroom." 
 
 Rose was more at her ease in the dark. 
 
 " Never mind, I can undress in the dark. 
 I' m used to it." She loosened the collar of her 
 dress, slipped off her shoes, and lay down on the 
 bed bitter and rebellious. 
 
 When Josie awoke in the morning the coun 
 try girl was awake and fully dressed and reading 
 a book by the window. 
 
 The wrinkly red dress could not utterly 
 break up the fine lines of her firm bust and 
 powerful side and thigh, and the admiring little 
 creature hopped out of bed and stole across the 
 room, and threw her arms about Rose. 
 
 " How big and beautiful you are! " 
 
 These wonderful words ran into the country 
 girl's blood like hot scented wine. To be 
 beautiful made some amends for being coarse 
 and uncultured. As she had never felt abase 
 ment before, so she had never felt the need of 
 being beautiful until now. 
 
 She turned a radiant, tearful face to Josie, 
 and seized her hands. 
 
 109
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " I I like you O, so much! " 
 
 " I knew we 'd be friends," cried the little one 
 dancing about. " And you '11 let me go and 
 help you buy your things, won^'t you? " 
 
 " O, I '11 be glad to have you I 'm such a 
 fool. I don't know anything at all that I ought 
 to know." 
 
 " You 're just splendid. I 'm the one who 
 don't know anything." 
 
 Then they entered upon a day of shopping. 
 They toiled like ants and buzzed like bees. 
 
 Rose came home at night worn out, dis 
 couraged and dumb as an Indian. She had sub 
 mitted to her fate, but she was mentally sore, lame 
 and confused. She no longer cared whether 
 Josie saw her poverty or not, and she went to 
 sleep out of utter fatigue, her eyes wet with tears 
 of homesickness. All she hoped for seemed 
 impossible and of no account, and sleep in her 
 own attic bed appeared to be the sweetest thing 
 in the world. 
 
 Her good, vigorous blood built up her cour 
 age during the night, but she was hardly a sweet 
 and lovable companion in the days which fol 
 lowed. She (temporarily) hated Josie and feared 
 Mrs. Thatcher. Thatcher himself, however, was 
 her savior, for she would surely have gone home 
 had it not been for him. 
 
 She had a notable set-to with the dressmaker. 
 " I won't come here again," she said, sullenly.
 
 ROSE ENTERS MADISON 
 
 " I don't want any dresses, I 'm going home. 
 I 'm tired of being pulled and hauled." 
 
 The dressmaker was a brisk little Alsatian, 
 with something of the French adroitness in her 
 manner. 
 
 " O, my dear young friend ! If you only 
 knew ! I am in despair ! You have such a 
 beautiful figure. You would give me such 
 pleasure if I might but finish this lovely gown." 
 
 Rose looked at her from under a scowling 
 prominent forehead. She had never been called 
 beautiful before, at least not by one who was dis 
 interested or a stranger, and she did not believe 
 the woman. 
 
 The dressmaker passed her hands caressingly 
 over the girl's splendid bust and side. 
 
 "Ah ! I can make myself famous if I may but 
 fit those lines." 
 
 Rose softened and put on the gown once 
 more and silently permitted herself to be turned 
 and turned about like a tin sign, while the little 
 artist (which she was) went about with a mouth 
 full of pins, gurgling, murmuring and patting. 
 This was the worst of the worry, and the end of 
 all the shopping was in sight. 
 
 The touch of soft flannels upon her flesh, the 
 flow of ample and graceful gowns helped her at 
 once. Her shoulders lifted and her bust ex 
 panded under properly cut and fitted garments. 
 Quickly, unconsciously she became 'herself again, 
 in
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 moving with large, unfettered movements. She 
 dominated her clothing, and yet her clothing 
 helped her. Being fit to be seen, she was not 
 so much troubled by the faces of people who 
 studied her. 
 
 It was wonderful to see how she took on (in 
 the first few weeks) the graces and refinements 
 of her new life. She met her schoolmates each 
 day with added ease, and came at last to be a 
 leader among them, just as in the home coule. 
 Her strength and grace and mastery they felt at 
 once. 
 
 Her heart beat very hard and fast on the first 
 day as she joined the stream of students moving 
 toward the Central Hall. The maple trees were 
 still in full leaf and blazing color. The sun 
 light was a magical cataract of etherealized gold, 
 and the clouds were too beautiful to look at 
 without a choking in the throat. 
 
 As she stepped over the deeply-worn stone 
 sill, she thought of the thousands of other coun 
 try girls whose feet had helped to wear that 
 hollow, and her heart ached with unaccountable 
 emotion. 
 
 Above her noisy feet clattered and bounded 
 on the winding stairway, and careless voices re 
 sounded. She climbed in silence. In such wise \ 
 she began to climb the way of knowledge, the 
 way which has no returning foot-steps, and which 
 becomes ever more lonely as the climber rises. 
 112
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 QUIET YEARS OF GROWTH 
 
 Outwardly her days were uneventful. She 
 came and went quietly, and answered her 
 teachers with certainty and precision. She was 
 not communicative to her companions, and came 
 to know but few of them during the first term. 
 She watched the trees go sere and bare, and cal 
 culated on the progress of the farmwork. She 
 wondered if the men were in the corn yet, or 
 whether it were too cold a morning to plow. 
 She studied the sky to see if there were signs of 
 snow. She could not at once throw off her daily 
 supervision of the weather and of farmwork. 
 
 Her father wrote only at long intervals. His 
 chapped and stiffened hands managed the pen 
 stock but painfully. He wrote of the farm 
 affairs, the yield of corn, the weight of the steers 
 or hogs he had sold, and asked her how many 
 turkeys he had best keep over. 
 
 Carl wrote once or twice and stopped. He. 
 was a still more reluctant correspondent. Carl 
 meant little to her now. The Doctor's dominion 
 was absolute, and yet there was a subtle change. 
 
 "3
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 She no longer blushed in his presence, and he 
 seemed older and nearer to her, more like an 
 uncle and adviser. The figure he had been, took 
 its place beside that of William De Lisle. More 
 substantial, but less sweet and mythical. 
 
 Her school life was not her entire intellectual 
 life by any means. She had the power of absorb 
 ing and making use of every sight and sound 
 about her. She saw a graceful action at table or 
 in the drawing room, and her mind seized upon 
 it and incorporated it. She did not imitate; she 
 took something from every one, but from no one 
 too much. 
 
 Her eyes lost their round nervous stare, but 
 they searched, searched constantly, as was natural 
 for a girl of her years and fine animal nature, 
 but there was brain back of it all. The young 
 men knew nothing of her searching eyes; indeed, 
 they thought her cold, and a little contemptuous 
 of them. 
 
 Meanwhile their elegance often alienated 
 them from her. There were many types not far 
 removed from Carl and Henry ; farmer's boys 
 with some touch of refinement and grace, but 
 others had a subtle quality, which told of homes 
 of refinement and luxury. 
 
 Two wonderful things had come to her. One 
 
 was the knowledge that she was beautiful, which 
 
 she came to understand was the burning desire 
 
 of all women ; and again that she was master of 
 
 114
 
 QUIET YEARS OF GROWTH 
 
 things which had scared her. She could wear 
 lovely dresses unconsciously, and sit at table 
 with ease, and walk before her classmates with 
 out tremor. She felt power in her heart, as well 
 as in her fist. 
 
 Her winter was a quiet one. She came and 
 went between her classes and her home at 
 Dr. Thatcher's. She studied in her own room or 
 recited to the Doctor when he was at leisure. 
 He liked to have the girls come into his study 
 when he was not too busy, and there he sat 
 figuring on the probable effect of cocaine or 
 atropine in a certain case, while the girls read 
 or talked. 
 
 Those were wonderful hours to the country 
 girl. She was a long way from the little cottage 
 on the old coule" farm at such times. Dr. 
 Thatcher felt the same beauty and power in the 
 droop of the head which had attracted him first 
 in the old school-house, only enriched and in 
 nobler colorings here. 
 
 They went sleighing together, with shouting 
 and laughter, as if the Doctor were a girl, too. 
 They went skating, and once in awhile to some 
 entertainment at the church. They were not 
 theatre-going people, and the lectures and socials 
 of the town and college made up their outings. 
 It was the Doctor's merry interest in their do 
 ings which made young men so unnecessary to 
 Rose as well as to Josephine.
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Then came spring again ; the southwest wind 
 awoke, snow began to go, the grass showed here 
 and there, and Rose's thoughts turned back 
 toward the coule". There were days when every 
 drop of her blood called out for the hills and the 
 country roads, the bleat of lambs, the odor of 
 fields, and the hum of bees, but she kept on at 
 work. 
 
 Something elemental stirred in her blood as 
 the leaves came out. The young men took on 
 added grace and power in her eyes. When they 
 came before her in their athletic suits, lithe, clean 
 limbed, joyous, then her eyes dreamed and her 
 heart beat till the blood choked her breathing. 
 
 O, the beautiful sky; O, the shine and shade 
 of leaves! O, the splendor of young manhood ! 
 She fought down the dizziness which came to 
 her. She smiled mechanically as they stood 
 before her with frank, clean eyes and laughing 
 lips, and so, slowly, brain reasserted itself over 
 flesh, and she, too, grew frank and gay. 
 
 Then came the vacation. The partings, the 
 bitter pain of leaving the young people she had 
 learned to love, and, too, came the thought of 
 home. The dear old coul with its peaks and 
 camel humps, and pappa John ! He was waiting 
 to see her there ! 
 
 So the pain of leaving her mates was mingled 
 with the joy of home-coming. She romped on 
 the grass with the young lambs. She followed 
 116
 
 QUIET YEARS OF GROWTH 
 
 Pappa John about as of old, in the fields, while 
 he wondered and marveled at her. She was so 
 fine and white and lady-like. 
 
 She was fain to know all the news of the farm, 
 and the neighborhood. She felt like kissing all 
 the dear old ladies in the coule". O, the old 
 friends were the best after all! You could rest 
 on them. They did n't care how you ate soup. 
 They did n't keep you keyed up to company 
 manners all the time. 
 
 She went back to her old dresses and cotton 
 underwear, and went dirty as she liked, and got 
 brown and iron-muscled again. 
 
 Carl met her on the road one day and bowed 
 and drove on, with hurried action of the lines. 
 He still bore her rejection of him fresh in mind. 
 It is everlastingly to his credit, let it be said now, 
 that he never made use of his youthful intimacy 
 with her. He was a man, with all the honesty 
 and sincerity and chivalry of a race of gentlemen 
 in his head, slow-witted as he was. 
 
 117
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 STUDY OF THE STARS 
 
 She came back each September with delight 
 and exultation. It was not so much like going 
 to the world 's end now, and besides, her father 
 seemed resigned to it. Back to the gleam of 
 the lakes, the flaming sunsets, the moon-lit 
 nights filled with twang of guitars and floating 
 harmony of fresh boyish voices, back to her girl- 
 lovers and her books, back to the chalky odor of 
 the recitation room. 
 
 It was so sweet to climb the circular stair 
 way again. The booming roar of the feet did 
 not disturb her now. The greetings of the 
 Professors as they passed, made her eyes dim 
 with pleasure. The spirit of the University had 
 established dominion over her. 
 
 These were days without care, days of silent 
 pleasant growth. A year of sweet gravity over 
 books and wholesome laughter over games. She 
 studied hard, but it was a quiet pleasure to 
 study, for she had the power of concentration 
 which gives mastery. 
 
 She was never behind, never fagged out with 
 118
 
 STUDY OF THE STARS 
 
 study. She had time for the splendor of nature 
 and for the world of books. She read more 
 and more each year because she felt lacking in 
 literary knowledge. She read the books she ought 
 to know read them religiously. Occasionally 
 it chanced the books were those she loved to 
 read, but not often. Generally she had to bend 
 to them as if they were lessons. 
 
 She read also Scott, Dickens and Thackeray, 
 a volume or two each. Then one day in mid 
 winter it chanced she fell upon " Mosses from an 
 Old Manse," and then all the other books 
 waited. She read it while she walked home 
 from the library. She read it after dinner and 
 put it in her satchel as she went to recite. She 
 finished it and secured the second volume ; then 
 came "Twice Told Tales," then "The Scarlet 
 Letter," and the world of woman 's sin opened 
 to her. 
 
 She read that terrible book, rebelling against 
 the dark picture, raging against the insatiable 
 vengeance of the populace who condemned 
 Hester as if she had opened the gates of hell in 
 the path of every daughter of New England. 
 
 She could not understand, then nor there 
 after, the ferocity of hate which went out against 
 the poor defenseless woman. What had the 
 woman done? She struggled over the problem. 
 She felt in herself that terrible ceaseless urging. 
 Her thoughts were not clear, they were still only 
 119
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 raised figures in the web of organic thought, 
 but she was accomplishing great conceptions. 
 
 She knew it was wrong, but why it was wrong 
 troubled her. The law yes, but what lay be 
 hind the law ? The Mormon had one law, the 
 Turks another. Why was this English law 
 better than any other? Why were the animals 
 freer than men? Their lives were good and 
 healthy, they lived in the sunshine and were 
 untroubled. Such were a few of the questions 
 she grappled with. 
 
 God only knows the temptations which came 
 to her. She had days when all the (so-called) 
 unclean things she had ever seen, all the over 
 heard words of men 's coarse jests, came back 
 like vultures to trouble her. Sometimes when 
 she walked forth of a morning, the sun flamed 
 across the grass with ineffable beauty. The 
 whole earth was radiant ; every sound was a 
 song ; every lithe youth moved like a god before 
 her, and it was then that something deep in her, 
 something drawn from generations of virtuous 
 wives and mothers, saved her from the whirlpool 
 of passion. 
 
 At such times she felt dimly the enormous dif 
 ference between her nature and that of Joseph 
 ine. Josephine's passion was that of a child 
 hers that of an imaginative and complex man. 
 
 She was silent after these days of gayety. 
 She was not a chatterer at any time, but after 
 120
 
 STUDY OF THE STARS 
 
 these moods she was almost sullen once more, 
 and she fell upon her lessons with renewed zeal, 
 as a monk flagellates his rebellious flesh. 
 
 After these days of searching eyes she re 
 fused to look at any of her young male friends. 
 She answered them crustily and turned away 
 from them, but this did not serve to cure her nor 
 to keep the young men away. 
 
 Always at such times William De Lisle's 
 glorious presence drew near in the dusk, insub 
 stantial and luminous as a cloud, and she set her 
 teeth in fresh resolve to be wise and famous; to 
 be worthy his look and his word of praise. 
 
 She had suitors constantly. Her dark haughty 
 face, warm with blood, her erect and powerful 
 figure excited admiration among the young 
 men, and they courted her with the wholesome 
 frankness of clean and vigorous manhood. The 
 free and natural intercourse of the college kept 
 the young people healthy as a home circle. 
 
 As the Doctor came to take a different place 
 in her love, Rose became open to the advances 
 of other men. Twice during the winter she felt 
 the power of love touch her. In the first in 
 stance her eyes sought and found among her 
 classmates a young man's physical beauty, and 
 her imagination clothed him with power and 
 mystery, and she looked for him each day, and 
 life was less interesting and purposeful when he 
 was not present. 
 
 121
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 She made no open advances, she scarcely 
 needed to, for he also saw, and when he came to 
 her and she flushed and trembled with weakness, 
 it seemed as if her life had at last taken a fixed 
 direction. For a few weeks the man was her 
 ideal. She saw him before her constantly. She 
 knew his smile, the lift of his eyebrows, the 
 shape of his ears, the slope of his shoulders, the 
 sound of his voice. She looked at him stealthily 
 from her book. She contrived to sit where she 
 could watch every motion. She walked down 
 the street with him each day, half numb with 
 her emotion. 
 
 But this ecstasy did not last. She felt even 
 tually his shallowness and narrowness. He was 
 vain and ungenerous. He grew sere and bare 
 of grace and charm like the autumn elms, and 
 at last he stood empty and characterless before 
 her, and her eyes looked over and beyond him, 
 into the blue sky again, and throughout it all 
 she kept her place in her classes and no one was 
 aware of her new ideal. 
 
 When she turned away from him he did not 
 grow pale and lean. He grew a little vicious 
 .and said : " She is too cold and proud for my 
 taste." 
 
 Her next suitor was a worthy young man who 
 was studying law in the town. A fine, clean 
 young fellow, who paid court to her with 
 jnasterly address. He was older than she, and 
 
 122
 
 STUDY OF THE STARS 
 
 was a better scholar and brought to her less of 
 the clotheshorse and more of the man than her 
 freshly outgrown lover. Before spring began 
 he had won great intimacy with her almost an 
 engagement. 
 
 He was adroit. He did not see her too 
 much, and he came always at his best. He 
 appealed to the most imaginative side of her 
 nature. She glorified his calling as well as his 
 person. He was less handsome than his prede 
 cessor, but he brought an ample and flowing 
 phraseology, and a critical knowledge of farm- 
 life as well as of town-life. Once he took her 
 to the court-room to hear him plead. 
 
 He took her to the socials, and once to the 
 theater. There was his mistake! The play 
 made a most powerful impression upon her, 
 more powerful than anything since the circus at 
 Tyre. 
 
 It raised new and wordless ambitions. For 
 the first time in her life she saw society dress on 
 the stage. The play was one which pretended, 
 at least, to show New York and London life. 
 Therefore men in claw-hammer coats came and 
 went, with strange accents and with cabalistic 
 motions of hats and gloves, and women moved 
 about with mystic swagger. 
 
 The heroine glowed like a precious stone in 
 each act, now sapphire, now pearl, now ruby. 
 She spoke in a thick, throaty murmur and her 
 123
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 white shoulders shone like silver, and her wide 
 childish eyes were like wells of light-diffusing 
 liquid. 
 
 Rose gazed at her with unwearying eyes. Her 
 bosom rose and fell as if she had been running, 
 and she said in her heart: "/ can do that ! I 
 could stand there and do that ! " 
 
 Then the theme of the play filled her with 
 strange new thoughts. These people lived out 
 before her a condition which she had read about 
 but which had never been discussed in her pres 
 ence. A husband discovers his wife to have 
 been a lover and mother in her girlhood, and in 
 a tempest of self-righteous passion flings her to 
 the ground in scorn and horror. 
 
 She clings to his feet (in approved stage 
 fashion), pleading for mercy : " I was so 
 young! " 
 
 He would not listen. "Go! or no, stay 
 I will go. I make the home over to you, but 
 never look upon my face again." 
 
 While Rose burned with shame and indigna 
 tion, the outraged woman on the stage grew 
 white and stern. 
 
 "Who are you to condemn me so?" she 
 asked in icy calm. " Are you the saint you pro 
 fess to be? Will one offence contain your crime 
 against me? " 
 
 "What do you mean?" thundered the man 
 and husband. 
 
 124
 
 STUDY OF THE STARS 
 
 " You know what I mean. In my weakness 
 I was stained, ineffaceably ; I admit it but you, 
 in your strength, have you not preyed upon 
 weak women? The law allows you to escape 
 disgrace nature and law force me to suffer with 
 mine." 
 
 Rose thought of Carl and his courtship with 
 such a shudder as one feels in remembering a 
 rescue from an abyss. A hundred great confus 
 ing questions floated by in her mind, like clouds 
 in a mist of rain formless, vast, trailing deeper 
 shadow beneath them. The self-sufficient young 
 lawyer beside her said as the curtain fell: 
 
 " There was nothing else for her husband to 
 do but just fire her out." 
 
 Rose heard him but did not reply. She felt 
 a sharp revulsion of feeling toward him for his 
 coarse, hard tone. When he laid his hand on 
 her she shook it off, and when he asked a 
 question of her she did not reply. He was 
 annoyed also, and so they waited for the curtain 
 to rise on the final act. 
 
 The wife was sick and dying. The dramatist 
 had not the courage to work out his theme. He 
 killed the wife, so that the husband should not 
 appear to condone and take her to wife again. 
 She died while he, magnanimously, forgave her. 
 
 As they walked home, with fatuous insistence 
 her lover talked with Rose about the case. He 
 
 125
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 took the man's side. He hinted at the reason 
 presuming upon their intimacy. Men out 
 grow such experiences, he said ; women do not. 
 They are either one thing or the other either 
 pure as angels or black as devils. 
 
 Rose closed her lips tight, and her eyes 
 flamed with indignant protest, but she said 
 nothing in reply. In her heart she knew it was 
 a lie. A woman can set her foot above her dead 
 self as well as a man. 
 
 When he tried to kiss her good-bye she 
 pushed him aside and left him without a word. 
 He, too, was a bare and broken ideal. Her 
 heart went back again to William De Lisle, as 
 the young eagle goes back to the sun-warmed 
 cliff to rest and dream, with eyes to the sun. 
 
 That night put her girlhood far from her. 
 She grew five years older in the weeks which fol 
 lowed. Her mind took up irresistibly one 
 insoluble problem after another and wrestled 
 with it in silence. Josie's chatter went on around 
 her like the sound of the swallows in the eaves 
 of the old barn at home. 
 
 Her mind was like a piece of inconceivably 
 intricate machinery, full of latent and compli 
 cated motion. A word, a touch, and it set to 
 work, and out of its working some fine inner 
 heat and glow changed the whole mental and 
 physical equilibrium of her nature, and she 
 became something else, finer, more mysterious, 
 126
 
 STUDY OF THE STARS 
 
 and more alluring though this she did not 
 realize. 
 
 Thereafter the young man of her acquaint 
 ance did not draw her. Her eyes had been 
 raised to higher altitudes. She fell upon her 
 books with terrible industry, in the hope that 
 they would throw some light on her problems 
 and ambitions. 
 
 There was nothing she did not think of dur 
 ing these character-forming days. The beauty 
 and peace of love, the physical joy of it ; the 
 problem of marriage, the terror of birth all the 
 things girls are supposed not to think of, and 
 which such girls as Rose must irresistibly think 
 of, came to her, tormenting her, shaking her to 
 the inmost center of her nature, and through it 
 all she seemed quite the hearty young school 
 girl she was, for this thought was wholesome and 
 natural, not morbid in any degree. 
 
 She was a child in the presence of the Doctor, 
 but a woman with her suitors. The Doctor 
 helped her very much, but in the most trying 
 moments of her life (and no man can realize 
 these moments) some hidden force rose up to 
 dominate the merely animal forces within. Some 
 organic magnificent inheritance of moral purity. 
 
 She was saved by forces within, not by laws 
 
 without. Opportunities to sin always offer in 
 
 every life. Virtue is not negative, it is positive j 
 
 it is a decoration won by fighting, resisting. 
 
 127
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 This sweet and terrible attraction of men and 
 women towards each other is as natural and as 
 moral as the law of gravity, and as inexorable. 
 Its perversion produces trouble. Love must be 
 good and fine and according to nature, else 
 why did it give such joy and beauty ? 
 
 Natural as was this thought, she hid it from 
 her associates. Most women die with it unac 
 knowledged, even to their own spoken thought. 
 She would have been helped by talk with the 
 Doctor, or at least with his wife. But there was 
 a growing barrier between Mrs. Thatcher and her 
 self, and the Doctor did not seem the same good 
 friend. She felt a change coming in the whole 
 household. 
 
 When she went home at the close of her sec 
 ond year, she had a feeling that she would never 
 again return to the old sweet companionship 
 with Dr. Thatcher. He was too busy now, ap 
 parently, to give her the time he once seemed 
 so glad to give. He never asked her to ride 
 with him now. She was troubled by it and con 
 cluded they were tired of her, and so she, too, 
 
 grew cold and reserved. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The day she left, the Doctor, after he had 
 driven Rose to the train, called his wife into the 
 office. 
 
 "Sit down a moment, wife, I want to talk 
 with you." He faced her bravely. " I guess 
 128
 
 STUDY OF THE STARS 
 
 we'd better arrange for Rose to go to one of 
 the chapter-houses next year. There 's no 
 need to beat around the bush she takes up too 
 much of my thought, and you know it and I 
 know it." 
 
 It drew blood to say that. It took manhood 
 to look his wife in the eyes then, but he did it. 
 
 "It isn't her fault, and it isn't yours it 
 is n't mine, as a matter of justice. Rose is just 
 what she 's always been, a good, sweet girl I 
 would n't have her see anything but friendly 
 interest in my eyes for half my heart I'm afraid 
 she will, so I guess " 
 
 He was talking through set teeth. " I wish 
 you'd tell her we can 't offer her a home ; I can't 
 do it." 
 
 He rose and went to his wife. "My dear, 
 do n't cry you 've watched this thing come on 
 in brave silence not every wife would have kept 
 silence so long. It won't break up our comrade 
 ship, will it, dear? We've jogged along so 
 peacefully these fifteen years we ought to 
 overlook a little thing like this ! " He smiled a 
 little, then he stooped and put his arm about her. 
 
 "Come, give me a kiss, and let's adopt no 
 more handsome girls till I'm sixty-five." 
 
 She rose and lifted her sad face to his. " It 's 
 my fault, if I " 
 
 He kissed her and said: "No more of that! 
 You 're my faithful wife. What helps the matter 
 129
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 materially is this Rose thinks of me as a sober 
 old settler now." 
 
 This ended it so far as any outward showing 
 ever defined his feeling, but the presence of the 
 girl never left him. At night, as he sat at his 
 desk at the hour which almost always used to 
 bring Rose down from her room to discuss her 
 lessons with him, he grew sad and lonely. " If 
 I had a child," he said to himself, " I could bear 
 it more easily." 
 
 When Rose returned, she went into one of 
 the co-operative boarding-houses, and slowly 
 drifted away from the Doctor and his family. 
 She never quite knew why. It puzzled her for 
 a time, and then she forgot it in the fashion of 
 youth. 
 
 130
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 Of what avail the attempt to chronicle those 
 days? They were all happy, and all busy, yet 
 never alike. When the sun shone it was beauti 
 ful, and when the wind roared in the trees and 
 the rain slashed like falling sails, it was equally 
 glorious. On clear, crisp, bright winter days the 
 air grew magical with bells, and the grating 
 snarl of the ice-boat 's rudder was thrilling as a 
 lion 's cry. It was apart from the world of care 
 and politics and revolution. 
 
 There was fun, whirlwinds of it, at the chap 
 ter-house when studies were over, and there 
 was fun at the professedly-formal girl-banquets 
 where the chairman arose to say, "Gentlemen, 
 the honor " and everybody shrieked to see 
 her pull an imaginary chin-whisker. There was 
 more fun on winter nights, when loads of people 
 packed into the bob-tail mule-cars (which tinkled 
 up the snowy street with wonderful persistency), 
 while the passengers trod on each other's toes 
 and chaffed the driver. And the wonderful 
 nights under the stars, walking home with arm
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 fast anchored in a fellow's grip ; or strolls in 
 summer beside the Lake, or dreamy hours float 
 ing at sunset in a boat which lay like a lily 's 
 petal, where skies of orange and purple met 
 water of russet-gold and steely-blue. 
 
 And there was the glory of mounting also. 
 One by one the formidable mesas of calcula 
 tions, conjugations, argumentations, fell below 
 her feet, and Rose grew tall in intellectual grace. 
 She had no mental timidities. Truth with her 
 came first, or if not first, certainly she had little 
 superstitious sentiment to stand in the way. She 
 was still the same impatient soul as when she 
 shook her little fist at the Almighty's lightning. 
 
 It was this calm, subconscious assumption of 
 truth 's ultimate harmony with nature 's first 
 cause which she delighted in as she entered 
 physics and astronomy. Her enthusiasm for the 
 hopeless study of the stars developed into a 
 passion. They exalted her and saddened her. 
 
 She lifted her eyes to them, and the ultimate 
 distances of their orbits swept upon her with 
 overwhelming power. 
 
 She felt again the ache in the heart which 
 came to her as a child on the bluff-top, when the 
 world seemed spread out before her. When she 
 -turned her face upward now it was to think of 
 the awful void spaces there, of the mysteries of 
 each flaming planet, and of the helplessness and 
 weakness of the strongest man. 
 132
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 For a year she plunged into astronomy. It 
 had the allurement and the sombre aloofness of 
 unrequited love. It harmonized well with her 
 restless, limitless inner desire. 
 
 These sudden passions for this or that art 
 were signs of her strength and not her weakness. 
 They sprang out of her swift and ready imagina 
 tion, which enabled her to take on the person 
 ality of the artist, and to feel his joy of power. 
 It was quite normal that she should desire to be 
 successively circus rider, poet and astronomer, 
 and yet, now that her graduation was near, she 
 was as far from a real decision as ever. 
 
 " What are you going to do after gradua 
 tion?" Josie said. 
 
 Rose grew grave. " I don 't know. Go on 
 studying somewhere." 
 
 " I 'm going to have a good time ! " 
 
 " You 're always having a good time, you 
 little oriole." Rose had come to patronize 
 Josie in these later days. " I envy you so," she 
 sighed. " The world is so simple for you." 
 
 " I do n't understand you when you go on 
 like that you'll come tomorrow and see my 
 new dress, won't you ?" 
 
 Graduation meant for Josephine the chance 
 to wear a fetching gown, and be looked at by an 
 immense crowd and one extra man. This was 
 supposed to be a secret, but everybody who cared 
 to give it a thought, knew of it and smiled at her
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 as they would at a child. Josie could be nothing 
 else but a child. 
 
 To most of the students graduation day came 
 rushing with sorrowful speed. It meant passing 
 from sunlit lanes of maple and lilac out into the 
 bleak highways of trade and labor. It meant 
 the beginning of struggle with pitilessness in 
 man and nature. As students they were not in 
 the race for subsistence, but as citizens and pro 
 fessional men they were to be competitors in 
 trades and crafts already overflowing. 
 
 Graduation day drew near, and a tremulous 
 ecstasy came into the lives of the outgoing 
 students a joy made more precious by its cer 
 tainty of passing. 
 
 To Rose graduation day came as the sweetest, 
 saddest day of her life. It seemed to close a 
 gate upon something in her history. The smil 
 ing, yet mournful, faces of her friends, the wist 
 ful eyes of the young men who loved her, the 
 rustle of leaves, the gleam of the water, the 
 dapple of light and shade on the campus, the 
 exaltation of the public moment, all these 
 wondrous things rushed upon her like a flood, 
 and overwhelmed her ambitions and desires, 
 powerful as they were. 
 
 At last the books were closed and packed 
 away. 
 
 The commencement exercises began with the 
 reception in Science Hall. The night fell slowly, 
 
 134
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 and the fine new building grew alight story after 
 story, and crowds began to stream in. The 
 students led the way, rakish, full of airs, except 
 when piloting their parents about. The fun had 
 been almost furious all day. 
 
 There were many of the relatives of the stu 
 dents present, and often they stood out in sharp 
 contrast with the decorations and with the joy of 
 the young people. Beautiful girls might be seen 
 leading bent and wrinkled fathers and mothers, 
 who had sacrificed all for them. , Rose wished 
 for her father, and passionately desired to do 
 something for him. He had written that he 
 could n't leave the farm, and so she wandered 
 about with others, like herself, free. Every 
 where the young men met her. She never 
 escaped them for a moment, their pursuit was 
 relentless. 
 
 The crowd swarmed into each room, where 
 the professors stood beside show-cases, polite and 
 patient, exhibiting machines, specimens, draw 
 ings. At another place sherbet was served to 
 the guests, and music could be heard in the 
 lower halls. Everywhere was the lisp of feet, 
 the ripple of talk. 
 
 All this was a bore to many of the pupils, for 
 there was the peace-pipe ceremonial preparing 
 on the campus, that they really waited for. 
 Mysteriously in the deep dusk a huge heap of 
 combustibles had been piled up on the wet 
 
 135
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 grass, and one by one the two classes began to 
 gather. There was a mutter of voices, a com 
 mand, then a red flame flashed out, and with it 
 the college yell soared up from a little bunch of 
 dark forms : 
 
 " RAH-RAH-RAH-WISCONSIN!" 
 
 The stragglers on the walks turned toward the 
 fire, like insects. They came in crawling dark 
 lines like ants, across the wet grass. They 
 formed a blue-black mass, lighted on one side 
 by the orange light of the bonfire. The stars 
 overhead grew green and dim in the light of the 
 fire, and the encircling trees of the campus came 
 out like silhouettes of purple-green cardboard. 
 
 The class rolled out its carpet for the girls 
 and opened its boxes of long clay pipes. It 
 seemed so much more important to Rose now 
 that she stood there in the center as one of the 
 graduating class. There was not much talk. 
 They lined up and sang song after song. Then 
 the boys moved about and showed the girls how 
 to light their pipes. 
 
 "You want to suck, not blow, on it!" a voice 
 called out, and everybody laughed dutifully. 
 For a few moments all was laughter. The girls 
 tried to assume the airs of smokers, and puffed 
 their kinnikinnick furiously. Then as they sang 
 they swung their pipes with rakish air, " There 
 is a Tavern in our Town" and " The Bull-frog 
 in the Pool," and their voices floated out and up 
 
 136
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 into the wreathing smoke of the fire, as deli- 
 ciously sweet as though their songs were hymns 
 of praise as they were hymns of youth. 
 
 The pipes needed constant relighting. In 
 every silence some girl cried out: "O, my 
 pipe's gone out ! " One cried: " Give me a bite ! " 
 as if the pipe-stem were taffy. 
 
 To Rose the whole ceremony was glorious. 
 It carried her out of herself. It gave her a 
 glimpse into the world which men keep to them 
 selves, and, besides, she had written the speech 
 handing the pipe down to the custodian of the 
 succeeding class, a really admirable ceremony. 
 
 Here on this spot the red men warred and 
 loved. Here, with the sheen of lakes about, and 
 the wild grass under their feet, it was beautiful 
 and appropriate that they should be remembered 
 by these young western sons and daughters of 
 the white man. 
 
 The mock antagonism between seniors and 
 juniors seemed to have great meaning when 
 Tom Harris spoke the lofty phrases she had 
 written for him, standing outlined against the 
 soaring fire like a silhouette of velvet, his voice 
 rolling out with lofty suspensive power. 
 
 " Here on the spot where our fathers have 
 dwelt for countless suns and moons we ask for 
 peace. We call upon you to bury the hatchet. 
 Forgive and forget; you who have scars forgive, 
 and you who have wrongs forget. Let all evil 
 
 137
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 spirits be exorcised by the pipe. Here we 
 break the arrow. Here we tender the sacred 
 pipe. Brothers sisters, we have spoken!" 
 
 The fire burned low. As they sat in circles on 
 the ground and chanted their songs, the sky 
 grew blacker, the trees melted into the darkness, 
 the last wailing cadence floated into silence, and 
 then subdued, tender, they rose and vanished, in 
 pairs and groups, into the darkness like the songs 
 they sang. The class of 189- had entered upon 
 its long, long trail, some to the plains of failure, 
 some to the mountains of victory. 
 
 This quaint and suggestive custom received 
 new strength from the oration which Rose con 
 tributed. All felt its power and beauty. To the 
 girls the whole ceremony was a rare and deli 
 cious piece of audacity. It did them good. It 
 gave them something to look back upon with 
 laughter, into which a sigh and a little catching 
 of the breath might also come. 
 
 Something elemental and primitive came to 
 Rose amid all the laughter and song. What was 
 she more than the swart women who had lived 
 here and been wooed of men ? Was there not 
 something magnificent in their frank following 
 of the trail of pure passion ? They loved, and 
 bore children, and ground at the corn mills, and 
 died as the female bison died, and other women 
 came after them to do like unto them, to what 
 end? 
 
 138
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 Some such questions, vague, ever shadowy, 
 formless, moved Rose, as she lay down to sleep 
 that night. Outside a mandolin twanged the 
 boys were serenading her, but she had not the 
 wish to see them. She did not go to the window, 
 as the other girls did, deliciously excited, almost 
 hysteric with the daring of being possibly seen 
 in their nightgowns. She kept sombre silence, 
 stirred by profounder emotions than they were 
 capable of. 
 
 She thought of William De Lisle but seldom 
 now. In open daylight she was a little ashamed 
 of her idolatry, but on nights like these, when 
 love songs and moonlight fused together, his 
 figure came before her, not so clear a personality 
 now, but as a type of beauty, as a center of 
 dreams, of something wild and free and splendid 
 something she was to attain to some good 
 day. 
 
 She had no thought of attaining him, but 
 some one like unto him. Some one who was 
 grand as her dream of heroes and loyal as her 
 father. 
 
 It was characteristic of her that while the 
 lovers singing without made her companions 
 utter hysterical laughter, she was sad and wished 
 to be alone. Their desires were on the surface, 
 shifting, sparkling, seeking kisses. Hers was 
 dark, and deep down, sombre, savage, prophetic. 
 Love with her was a thing not to be uttered. 
 
 139
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 She silenced all jests about it, and all familiarity 
 on the part of her suitors she had put away. 
 
 During her first year she had allowed her 
 lover to take her hand, as Carl used to do, 
 because it seemed the usual thing, but after 
 breaking off that entanglement she resolutely 
 set to work to study, and no man had since con 
 sidered himself her lover. To permit a caress 
 now meant all the world to her. It meant 
 change, undoing of plans, throwing away ambi 
 tions. It meant flinging herself to the immemo 
 rial sacrifice men demand of women. 
 
 There were times when she felt the impulse 
 to do this. She felt it that night as the clear 
 voices of the serenaders came floating in at her 
 window. What did it matter ? What could she 
 do in the mighty world ? What did the Indian 
 girl, when her lover sang from his canoe among 
 the water lilies in the lake ? Why not go to one 
 of these good, clean young men and be a wife ? 
 What did it matter her ambition her hope ? 
 "I will," she said, and a wild rush of blood 
 choked her breathing, "I'll end it all." 
 
 But the singing died away, the moonlight 
 vanished out of the room, and the passionate 
 longing and tumult of her blood grew slowly 
 quiet, and she slept. 
 
 When the sun rose there was no man in her 
 world who could have won her consent to mar 
 riage. Her ambitions rose like the sun, buoyant 
 140
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 as young eagles, while the singers of the night 
 before were hapless fireflies, tangled in the 
 dewy grass, their love -light dim, their singing 
 lost. 
 
 She was not done with this problem, however. 
 She saw in one man's eyes something to be 
 answered. She had her answer ready, though she 
 hoped to escape the ordeal. He hovered close 
 about her all the morning. He came by the 
 chapter-house for her, but she had gone to the 
 chapel. 
 
 She felt a little guilty toward him. She had 
 attended concerts with him. She had accepted 
 his company now and again because she liked 
 him and because well, it was convenient, and 
 by selecting him she escaped the attentions of 
 others. She had seemed to acquiesce in his pro 
 prietorship of her, and yet always when alone she 
 had tried to show him that they could only be 
 friends. This he had persistently misunder 
 stood. 
 
 She was almost the tallest of her classmates, 
 she led the march into the chapel for the 
 final ceremonies, a splendid and terrible mo 
 ment, toward which they had looked for weeks, 
 and for which they had elaborately planned 
 dresses and procedure. 
 
 It was all so wistfully beautiful. The cool 
 spacious hall filled with hushed people; the 
 141
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 vivid green trees looking in at the windows and 
 the soft air burdened with bee songs and the 
 smell of flowers. The June sunlight dappled 
 the lawn with marvels of shade and shine. The 
 music seemed to wail as they marched, and the 
 rustling stir and murmur of comment helped to 
 unnerve them all even to men. 
 
 The speaker looked down upon them with 
 comprehension. He was an eastern man and 
 an old man, also he was a poet. He was just, 
 and he had seen how clean and fine this co-edu 
 cational school was. The day was beautiful to 
 him as to them, and he comprehended their feel 
 ings well. He looked down into their pensive 
 faces, he saw the sorrowful arching of their 
 brows, the sad droop of their lips. 
 
 His shaggy head drooped forward as he 
 talked to them, till his kind old face, lined with 
 genial wrinkles, seemed to grow beautiful and 
 tender and maternal. He had reared many 
 children of his own, and he now took the young 
 people into his heart. He told them much of 
 his life and trials how work was in the world 
 for them ; play, too but work, hard work, 
 glorious work ! work for humanity as well as for 
 themselves. He conveyed to them something 
 of the spirit of altruism into which the world 
 seemed about to enter on its orbit as it swings 
 through clouds of star-dust. 
 
 They cheered him when he ended, and then 
 143
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 the president, in brief words, presented their 
 diplomas. Among them now were bitten lips, 
 and tremulous chins and tearful eyes. The 
 doors had closed behind them and they faced 
 the whole world, it seemed. For years they had 
 studied here, in storm and sun, but now they re 
 membered only the sunlight, all fused and 
 blended into one radiant vista. 
 
 As they stood for their final benediction a 
 splendid snowy cloud sailed across the sun, and 
 the room darkened mystically. A shudder of 
 exquisite pleasure and pain thrilled Rose, and a 
 little moan pushed from her throat, but the 
 shadow lifted, the organ sounded out a fine 
 brave strain, and the class of 189- was ended. 
 It was now a group of men and women facing 
 the open road. 
 
 With low words of greeting and congratula 
 tion the graduates and their friends lingered 
 about the chapel. Slowly it emptied and the 
 hill grew populous again with groups of leisurely 
 moving figures. 
 
 There were scholars showing their parents 
 about the grounds, there were groups of visiting 
 towns-people, and there were the lovers, two 
 and two, loitering, wandering (she in dainty 
 white gown, he in cap and jacket), two-and-two 
 in world-old, sex-old fashion. They lay on the 
 banks and watched the boats on the gleaming 
 lake where other lovers were. They threaded
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 the hill-paths where the thrush moved with 
 quick rustle, and the pale wood-flowers peered 
 above the fragrant mosses. They stood on the 
 beach skipping pebbles, he lithe and laughing, 
 she tender, palpitating, wistful and sombre, or 
 fitfully gay. Everywhere laughter had a solemn 
 sweet undertone; "Good-bye!" trembled so close 
 to "I love you!" 
 
 Rose saw young Harris approaching, and a 
 faintness took hold upon her limbs. He was at 
 his princeliest estate never would he be hand 
 somer. His summer suit set close to his agile 
 and sinewy figure. His cap rested lightly on his 
 curly hair. His frank blue eyes were laughing, 
 but his lips were tremulous with feeling. 
 
 " Well, Rose, all the girls have deserted me 
 so I 'm glad to find you alone," he said, but she 
 knew he was never deserted. " Let's take a 
 walk. The whole school seems to be divided 
 off into teams. Looks as if the whole crowd 
 would trot in double harness, don't it?" 
 
 She did not reply, he hardly expected her to 
 do so. 
 
 " Going to the ball with me to-night, are n't 
 you?" 
 
 " No, I guess not." 
 
 " I was in hopes you 'd change your mind." 
 
 " I can't dance those new-fangled figures." 
 
 "O, you'd catch on in a jiffy. You should 
 have gone out more." 
 
 144
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 They moved down the hill to the beach road, 
 and as they walked Harris talked, talked against 
 time, he would have said. They strolled on past 
 the small boys fishing, past other low-voiced 
 couples, out into comparative solitude where 
 the farms began. She knew what was coming 
 but she could not stop, could not then turn 
 back. 
 
 They came at last to a grassy little knoll 
 which looked out upon the lake, and there he 
 laughingly spread out his handkerchief for her. 
 
 " Sit here, my liege lady! " 
 
 It was red clover, and its powerful fragrance 
 swept upon her with a vision of the hay-field at 
 home. 
 
 Harris lay down below her so that he could 
 see her face, and the look in his eyes made her 
 shiver again. Nothing so beautiful and power 
 ful and pagan-free had come to her since that 
 day when she danced with Carl beneath the dap 
 pling leaves, when woman's passion first stirred 
 within her. The sailing clouds, the clicking in 
 sects, the smell of leaves and flowers all strove 
 on the side of the lover. It was immemorial, 
 this scene, this impulse. 
 
 " Well, Rose, this is our last day at school, 
 and what I want to know is this, is it the last we 
 shall see of each other?" 
 
 She made an effort and answered: 
 
 "Why, no, I hope not." 
 
 MS
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "You hope not then there is hope for me? 
 Confound it, Rose, I 'm not going to talk in 
 riddles. You 're the only girl in the world for 
 me." He took her hand. "And I can't live 
 without you. You are going to live with me, 
 are n't you, Rose ?" 
 
 She shook her head, but tears dropped upon 
 his hand. He allured her like the sunshine, 
 this lithe young lover. 
 
 His keen eyes saw a lack of decision in this 
 head shake. He held her hand and his fingers 
 caressed her wrist. Unconsciously, with pure 
 intent, he used all the wiles of men, which 
 women love, yet dread. His voice grew vibrant, 
 yet remained low, his clear eyes called in subtler 
 speech than his tongue. His wrist touched her 
 knee, his hair moved in the soft wind. 
 
 " I can 't bear to go home without you, Rose, 
 darling. Come, tell me, do n't you care for me 
 at all, not the least bit ?" 
 
 She tried to draw her hand away, but he held 
 it and continued : 
 
 " I 've got everything all planned. I 'm going 
 into law with my father. I 've got plans for a 
 house, and we '11 begin life together today " 
 
 His physical charm united itself some way 
 with the smell of clover, the movement of the 
 wind and the warm flood of sunshine. She had 
 never loved him, though she had always liked him, 
 but now something sweet and powerful, something 
 146
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 deep buried, rose in her heart and shortened her 
 breath. Her face burned, her throat was swollen 
 shut, her face was distorted, for one moment she 
 was mastered. 
 
 Then the swift revulsion came, and she drew 
 her hand away and sprang up. 
 
 "No!" she cried harshly and bitterly, "I 
 can 't do it ; it is impossible. Go away ! " 
 
 Then the blood slowly fell away from her 
 neck and face, and her heart ceased to pound, 
 her eyes cleared and she grew gentle again, see 
 ing his pained and frightened face. 
 
 "I didn't mean that I didn't mean to be 
 so rough, Tom, but it 's no use. I do n't want to 
 marry you, nor anybody else. All I want is to 
 be let alone. I 'm going to Chicago. I want to 
 see the world. I can 't be shut up in a little 
 town like Lodi. I want to see people thou 
 sands of people. I want to see what the world 
 is like. I may go to Europe before I get done 
 with it. I 'm going to study art. I 'm going to 
 be great. I can 't marry any one now." 
 
 She poured out her confidences in swift, almost 
 furious protest. She had never confided to him 
 so much before. 
 
 His pain was not so overpowering but he 
 found strength to say : 
 
 " I thought you were going to be a writer." 
 
 She flushed again. " Well, I am. But I 'm 
 going to be a painter, too. I 'm going home," 
 
 '47
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 she said abruptly, and in such wise they walked 
 along the returning way. 
 
 The glamour was gone from the young man's 
 hair and eyes. She saw him as he was, clean, 
 boyish, shallow. His physical charm was lost, 
 and a sort of disgust of his supple waist and 
 rounded limbs came upon her, and disgust at her 
 self for that one moment of yielding weakness; 
 and also the keen fear of having been unjust, of 
 having given him a claim which she was repudi 
 ating, troubled her. 
 
 He made one last attempt. 
 
 " Rose, I wish you 'd reconsider. What can 
 you do in the world ?" 
 
 " I do n't know. I can be my own master for 
 one thing," she replied. "I can see the world for 
 another thing and besides, I don't want to 
 marry any one just yet." Her voice was abrupt, 
 merciless, and the young fellow bowed his head 
 to his sentence. She was too mysterious and 
 powerful for him to understand. 
 
 "What could I do in Lodi ? Gossip with 
 old women and grow old. I know those towns. 
 I had rather live in the country than in one of 
 those flat little towns." 
 
 " But I '11 go to the city with you if you want 
 me to. I can get a place there. I know two 
 men " 
 
 " No, no ! I can 't do it. I want to be free. 
 
 148
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 I 've got something to do, and, I do n't care for 
 you" 
 
 " Well, go to the ball with me to-night, won't 
 you ? " he pleaded. 
 
 " Yes, if you never speak about this to me 
 again." 
 
 He promised ; of course he promised. Stand 
 ing where he did he would have promised 
 anything. 
 
 It was a singular and lovely ball. The 
 people came together simply and quietly, on 
 foot, or on the tinkling mule-car. 
 
 There were no ultra-fashionable dresses, and 
 no jewelry. The men came in various cuts of 
 coats, and the girls wore simple white, or blue or 
 mauve dresses, beneath which their lithe un- 
 trammeled waists and firm rounded limbs moved 
 with splendid grace. 
 
 It was plain all were not practised dancers. 
 Some of the young men danced with hands 
 waggling at the wrist, and the girls did not 
 know all the changes, but laughter was hearty 
 and without stint. 
 
 Around the walls sat or stood the parents of 
 the dancers, dignified business men and their 
 wives, keen-eyed farmers and village merchants 
 and lawyers. There were also the alumni from 
 all over the West, returned to take part in the 
 
 149
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 exercises, to catch a glimpse of the dear old 
 campus. It was all a renewal of youth to them. 
 Many came from the prairies. Some came from 
 the bleak mountain towns, and the gleam of the 
 lakes, the smell of grass, the dapple of sunlight 
 on the hillside affected them almost to tears. 
 Now they danced with their wives and were 
 without thought or care of business. 
 
 Professors danced with their pupils, husbands 
 with their wives, who had also been pupils here. 
 Lovely, lithe young girls dragged their bearded 
 old fathers out into the middle of the floor, 
 amid much laughter, and the orchestra played 
 "Money-Musk" and "Old Zip Coon" and 
 " The Fireman's Dance " for their benefit. 
 
 Then the old fellows warmed up to it, and 
 danced right manfully, so that the young people 
 applauded with swift clapping of their hands. 
 Plump mothers took part in the quaint old 
 fashioned figures, and swung and balanced and 
 " sashayed " in a gale of fun. 
 
 It was a beautiful coming together of the 
 University. It represented the unspoiled neigh- 
 borliness and sex camaraderie of the West. 
 Its refinement was not finicky, its dignity was 
 not frigidity, and its fun was frank and hearty. 
 May the inexorable march of wealth and fashion 
 pass by afar off, and leave us some little of these 
 dear old forms of social life. 
 
 It had a tender and pensive quality, also. The
 
 THE GATES OPEN WIDE 
 
 old were re- living the past, as well as the young, 
 and all had an unconscious feeling of the transi- 
 toriness of these tender and careless hours. 
 Smiles flashed forth on the faces of the girls like 
 hidden roses disclosed in deep hedges by a pass 
 ing wind-gust, to disappear again in pensive, 
 thoughtful deeps. 
 
 Rose danced with Dr. Thatcher, who took 
 occasion to say : 
 
 " Well, Rose, you leave us soon." 
 
 "Yes, to-morrow, Doctor." 
 
 "What are your plans ?" 
 
 "I do n't know; I must go home this summer. 
 I want to go to Chicago next winter." 
 
 "Aha, you go from world to world. Rose, 
 you will do whatever you dream of provided 
 you do n't marry." He said this as lightly as he 
 could, but she knew he meant it. 
 
 "There isn't much danger of that," she said, 
 trying to laugh. 
 
 "Well, no, perhaps not." They fell into a 
 walk, and moved slowly just outside the throng 
 of dancers. 
 
 "Now, mark you, I don't advise you at all. 
 I have realized from the first a fatality in you. 
 No one can advise you. You must test all things 
 for yourself. You are alone ; advice cannot reach 
 you nor influence you except as it appeals to 
 your own reason. To most women marriage is 
 the end of ambition, to you it may be an incen-
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 tive. If you are big enough, you will succeed in 
 spite of being wife and mother. I believe in you. 
 Can 't you come and see me to-morrow ? I want 
 to give you letters to some Chicago people." 
 
 The company began to disperse, and the 
 sadness impending fell upon them all. One by 
 one good-byes were said, and the dancers one 
 and all slipped silently away into the night. 
 
 152
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE WOMAN'S PART 
 
 It was all over at last, the good-byes, the 
 tearful embraces, the cheery waving of hands, 
 and Rose was off for home. There were other 
 students on the train, but they were young 
 students whom she did not know. At the 
 moment it seemed as if she were leaving all that 
 was worth while five years of the most beautiful 
 time of her life lay behind her. 
 
 She had gone there a country girl, scared and 
 awkward. She was now a woman (it seemed to 
 her) and the time for action of some sort had 
 come. She did not look to marriage as a safe 
 harbor. Neither had she regarded it as an end 
 of all individual effort, as many of her compan 
 ions unequivocally had done. 
 
 After her experiences during those last three 
 days, she felt as if sex were an abomination, and 
 she wished for freedom from love. She had 
 already the premonition that she was of those 
 who seem destined to know much persecution of 
 men. 
 
 Her strong, forceful, full-blooded, magnetic 
 
 153
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 beauty could not be hidden so deep under sober 
 garments but that the ever-seeking male eye 
 quickly discovered it. As she entered the car 
 she felt its penetrating, remorseless glare, and 
 her face darkened, though she was no longer 
 exposed to the open insults of brakemen and 
 drummers. There was something in the droop 
 of her eyelids and the curve of her mouth which 
 kept all men at a distance, even the most depraved. 
 She was not a victim a girl to be preyed 
 upon. She was quite evidently a proud, strong 
 woman, to be sued for by all flatteries and 
 attentions. 
 
 The train whirled along over the familiar 
 route, and the land was most beautiful. Fresh 
 grass everywhere, seas of green flashing foliage, 
 alternating with smooth slopes of meadow where 
 cattle fed, yet she saw little of it. With sombre 
 eyes turned to the pane she thought and 
 thought. 
 
 What was to be done now ? That was the 
 question. For a year she had been secretly 
 writing verse and sending it to the magazines. 
 It had all been returned to her. It made her 
 flush hot to think how they had come back to 
 her with scarcely a word of civility. Evidently 
 she was wrong. She was not intended for a 
 writer after all. She thought of the stage, but 
 .she did not know how to get upon the stage. 
 
 The train drew steadily forward, and familiar 
 
 154
 
 THE WOMAN'S PART 
 
 lines of hill-tops aroused her, and as she turned 
 her face toward home, the bent and grizzled 
 figure of her father came to her mind as another 
 determining cause. He demanded something 
 of her now after nearly five year's absence from 
 home, for he had paid her way made it possi 
 ble for her to be what she was. 
 
 There he sat holding his rearing horses and 
 watching, waiting for her. She had a sudden, 
 swift realization of his being a type as he sat 
 there, and it made her throat fill, for it seemed 
 to put him so far away, seemed to take away 
 something of her own sweet dignified person 
 ality. 
 
 There was a crowd of people on the platform. 
 Some of them she knew, some of them she did 
 not. She looked very fine and ladylike to John 
 Butcher as she came down the car steps, and the 
 brakeman helped her down, with elaborate and 
 very respectful courtesy. 
 
 The horses pranced about, so that John could 
 not even take her hand, and so she climbed into 
 the buggy alone. 
 
 " Carl will take care of your trunk," he said. 
 " Give him the check." 
 
 She turned to Carl, whom she had not no 
 ticed. He bowed awkwardly. 
 
 " How de do, Rosie," he said, as he took the 
 check. He wore brown denims, and a broad 
 hat and looked strong and clumsy. 
 
 155
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 She had no time to speak to him, for the 
 horses whirled away up the street. The air was 
 heavy with the scent of clover, and the bitter 
 sweet, pungent smells of Lombardy poplar trees. 
 
 They rode in silence till the village lay be 
 hind them and the horses calmed down. 
 
 " Cap's a perfect fool about the cars," said 
 John. " But I had to take him ; Jennie's get 
 ting too heavy, I darsent take her." 
 
 "How is the stock?" 
 
 "O, all right. We had a big crop of lambs 
 this spring. The bees are doing well, but the 
 clover don 't seem to attract 'em this year. 
 The corn looks well except down near the creek 
 it's been wet there in rainy seasons, you re 
 member." He gave other reports concerning 
 stock. 
 
 Rose felt for the first time the unusualness of 
 this talk. All her life she had discussed such 
 things with him, but on previous vacations she 
 had not been conscious of its startling plainness, 
 but now it came to her with a sudden hot flush 
 think of such talk being reported of her to the 
 Doctor and Mrs. Thatcher ! 
 
 There was something strange in her father's 
 manner, an excitement very badly concealed, 
 which puzzled her. He drove with almost reck 
 less swiftness up the winding coul road. He 
 called her attention to the way-side crops, and 
 succeeded in making her ask:
 
 THE WOMAN'S PART 
 
 " Father, what in the world is the matter with 
 you? I never knew you to act like this." 
 
 John laughed. " I 'm a little upset getting 
 you home again, that's all." 
 
 She caught a gleam of new shingles through 
 the trees. 
 
 "What have you been building?" 
 " O, nothing much new granary patchin* 
 up a little," he replied evasively. When they 
 whirled into the yard she was bewildered the 
 old cottage was gone and a new house stood in 
 its place. 
 
 John broke into a laugh. 
 " How 's that for a new granary? " 
 " O father, did you do that for me?" 
 " For you and me together, Rosie." 
 They sat in the carriage and looked at it. 
 Rose peered through tear- blurred lids. He 
 loved her so this bent old father! He had 
 torn down the old home and built this for 
 her. 
 
 Her aunt came out on the side porch: 
 "Hello, Rosie, just in time! The shortcake is 
 about ready. Ain't you comin' in?" 
 
 John gave the team up to the hired hand 
 (who stared at Rose with wondering eyes) and 
 then they walked upon the front porch and in 
 the front door. It was new so new it glist 
 ened everywhere and was full of the fragrance 
 of new lumber and the odor of paint. 
 
 157
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " I did n't get any new furniture," John said. 
 " I thought I 'd let you do that." 
 
 Rose turned and put her arms about his 
 neck. 
 
 "You dear old daddy, what can I do for 
 you, you 're so good to me?" 
 
 "There now, don't mind, I'm paid for it 
 now. I just want you to enjoy it, that's all, and 
 if any feller comes around and you like him, 
 why, you can bring him right here. It's big 
 enough now, and I 'm ready to let the farm any 
 time." 
 
 Rose saw his purpose to the uttermost line. 
 He had built this to keep her at home. How 
 little he knew her now, to think that she could 
 marry and bring her husband home to this 
 place! 
 
 She kissed him and then they passed into all 
 the rooms. 
 
 "Come here I've got something to show 
 you," he said mysteriously. " I just determined 
 to have it, no matter what it cost." He pushed 
 open a door at the head of the stairway, calling 
 triumphantly: 
 
 "There how's that? a bathroom! " 
 
 For an instant she felt like laughing. Then 
 she looked at his kind and simple face and she 
 broke down again and cried. 
 
 John understood now that this was only her 
 way of being glad, so he just patted her shoulder 
 
 158
 
 THE WOMAN'S PART 
 
 and got her a chair, and waited for her to dry 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Yes, sir," he went on, "cost me a hundred 
 dollars to put that in, say nothin' of the fixin's. 
 I had to have special set of eave-spouts made to 
 run the water into a cistern on top of the kitchen. 
 I thought of bringing the water from the spring, 
 but that's a little hard." 
 
 They went down to supper at last, he full of 
 talk, she very quiet. His loquacity was painful 
 to her, for it seemed to indicate growing age% 
 and loneliness. 
 
 The meagreness of the furniture and table 
 ware never struck her so forcibly as now, lost in 
 the big new house. Intellectual poverty was 
 shown also in the absence of books and news 
 papers, for John Butcher read little, even of 
 political newspapers, and magazines were quite 
 outside his experimental knowledge till Rose 
 brought a few home with her in her later vaca 
 tions. 
 
 There were no elegancies at their table that 
 too was borne in upon her along with the other 
 disturbing things. It was as if her eyes had 
 suddenly been opened to all the intolerable 
 meagreness of her old-time life. 
 
 " I didn 't buy any carpets or wallpaper, 
 Rosie ; I thought you 'd like to do that your 
 self," John explained as she looked around the 
 room. 
 
 159
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 But outside all was beautiful, very beautiful. 
 Under the trees the sinking sun could be seen 
 hanging just above the purple-green hills to the 
 northwest. Robins clucked, orioles whistled, a 
 ring-dove uttered its never changing, sorrowful, 
 sweet love-note. A thrush, high on a poplar, 
 sang to the setting sun a wonderful hymn, and 
 the vivid green valley, with its white houses and 
 red barns, was flooded with orange light, heaped 
 and brimming full of radiance and fragrance, 
 f And yet what was all that to a girl without 
 love, a brain which craved activity, not repose ? 
 Vain were sunset sky, flaming green slopes and 
 rows of purple hills to eyes which dreamed of 
 cities and the movement of masses of men. She 
 was young, not old ; ambitious, not vegetative. 
 She was seeking, seeking, and to wait was not 
 her will or wish. 
 
 The old man saw nothing difficult in all this. 
 She was educated now. He had patiently sent 
 her to school and now it was over; she was to be 
 his once more, his pride and comfort as of olden 
 time. Without knowing it he had forged the 
 chains round her with great skill. Every carpet 
 she bought would bind her to stay. She was to 
 select the wallpaper, and by so doing to pro 
 claim her intention to conform and to content 
 herself in the new home. 
 
 She rose the next morning feeling, in spite of 
 disturbing thought, the wonderful peace and 
 1 60
 
 THE WOMAN'S PART 
 
 beauty of the coule", while her heart responded 
 to the birds, rioting as never before orioles, 
 thrushes, bob-o-links, robins, larks their voices 
 wonderful and brilliant as the sunlight which 
 streamed in upon her new, uncarpeted floor. 
 
 As she looked around at the large, fine new 
 room, she thought of the little attic in which she 
 had slept so many years. Yes, decidedly there 
 would be pleasure in furnishing the house, in 
 making her room pretty with delicate drapery 
 and cheerful furniture. 
 
 She began to plan, only to break off it 
 seemed in some way to be deceit. No, before 
 she did anything to it she must tell him she 
 could not stay here, and she went down to break 
 fast with that resolution tightly clutched in her 
 teeth, but when she saw his smiling face she 
 could not speak the word. He was so pathetic 
 ally happy. She had never seen him so demon 
 strative, and this mood showed her how deeply 
 he had missed her. 
 
 Now that she was home for good, he felt no 
 need of concealing his exceeding great joy of 
 her daily presence with him. She remembered 
 all the brave words he had spoken to her in 
 order to make her feel he did not suffer when 
 she was happy at school. Fortunately at break 
 fast he was full of another subject. 
 
 "Is 'pose you heard that Carl is to be mar 
 ried?" he announced rather than asked her. 
 161
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 She looked up quickly "No, is he? To 
 whom ? " 
 
 " Little Sary Wilson." 
 
 " Well, I 'm very glad to hear it," she said 
 quietly. 
 
 Some way, at that moment she seemed more 
 alien to him than ever before, and he looked 
 across at her in wonder. How lady-like she was 
 in her tasty dress. How white her hands were ! 
 And it was wonderful to think she could sit so at 
 ease and hear of Carl 's approaching marriage. He 
 remembered the time when he called them to his 
 knee, the two young rogues. 
 
 She was thinking of that too. It was far in 
 the past, yet, far as it was, it was still measur 
 able, and a faint flush crept over her face. No 
 one in the world knew of that experience but 
 Carl and her father. Would Carl 's wife ever 
 know of it ? That was the thought which 
 caused the flush. 
 
 The first day she spent in looking about the 
 farm with John. Towards evening she climbed 
 the hills alone, and spent an hour on the 
 familiar slope. It helped her to look down on 
 her plans and her daily life, and the next day 
 she met the question direct. 
 
 "Well, Rosie, when will you go to Tyre and 
 do our buyin ' ? " 
 
 "O, not yet. I want to look around a few 
 days first." 
 
 162
 
 THE WOMAN'S PART 
 
 "All right you 're the captain ! only we 
 can 't have any company till we get some fur 
 niture." 
 
 True enough ! there was the excuse for buy 
 ing the furniture; even if she were to go to the 
 city she would be home during the summer, and 
 she would want to entertain her friends. The 
 fever seized her thereupon, and she plunged into 
 planning and cataloguing. They had but little to 
 spend, and she was put to her wit's end to pass 
 ably furnish the house. 
 
 This filled in the first week or two of her stay, 
 and she suffered less from loneliness than she 
 expected ; it came only at intervals, just before 
 going to sleep, or in the morning, as she made 
 her toilet for each new but eventless day. 
 
 As the home came to look pretty and com 
 plete, she thought of asking Josie to come on 
 to visit her, and finally wrote her, and when she 
 had promised to come, there was something to 
 look forward to. 
 
 Meanwhile, she found something wrong be 
 tween herself and her old friends. She meant 
 to be just the same as ever, and at first she 
 seemed to succeed, but she found herself not 
 listening to them, or looking at them with alien 
 eyes. She heard their harsh, loud voices, not 
 their words, and she saw their stiff, ungraceful 
 gestures instead of the fancy-work and worked- 
 over dresses which they showed her. They 
 
 163
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 looked at each other with significant nods. 
 Other young people had gone away to school 
 without acquiring airs, why should she ? 
 
 It was not her education in books, but in 
 manners, which made her alien. She was edu 
 cated above them, too. Her thoughts were 
 higher than theirs, and she did not attempt to 
 play the hypocrite. She was not interested in 
 them ; for the most part they bored her. In a 
 few cases the misunderstanding grew to be anger 
 and distrust. 
 
 Carl drove over once with his bride-elect, and 
 they all sat stiffly in the front room for one dis 
 tressing hour; then they left, never to come 
 again. 
 
 Sarah counted the visit not all in vain, how 
 ever, for she quite closely reproduced Rose's 
 shirt-waist the following week that much she 
 got out of the call. Carl was awed and troubled 
 a little by the failure of his bride to get on with 
 Rose, and Rose was bitter over it in heart. She 
 could not see the fun of all this, as so many 
 story-writers had done. It was all pitiful and 
 bitter and barren, and to eat with the knife and 
 drink coffee with a loud, sipping sound were 
 inexcusable misdemeanors to her overwrought 
 temper. 
 
 Josie came in like a little oriole. She fluffed 
 down off the train like a bunch of lilac bloom 
 .one July day. 
 
 164
 
 THE WOMAN'S PART 
 
 "O, what a funny little town," she said, after 
 kissing Rose how-de-do. "Are we to ride in 
 this carriage ? O, I'm so disappointed ! " 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " O, I wanted to ride on a hay-cart or dray or 
 whatever it is. Mr. Butcher, I'm so glad to see 
 you." She sprang upon John and kissed him, 
 "like a swaller lightin' on me," he said after 
 ward. It astonished him but gratified him. 
 
 " Do you live far out in the country the real 
 country?" she asked. 
 
 " Well, you'd think so if you had to haul corn 
 over it in the spring," he replied. 
 
 " I'd like to haul corn over it," she replied. 
 "May I?" 
 
 "You can do anything you want to," John said. 
 
 Josie got at the picturesque qualities of the 
 people. They all interested her and amused 
 her like the cattle without horns, and the guinea- 
 hens which clacked like clocks, and the tadpoles 
 in the marsh. She had no personal relations 
 no responsibilities toward them such as Rose 
 felt were inescapably hers. Josie had no respon 
 sibilities at all, none under heaven ! 
 
 She laughed at the ill-made dresses, and 
 winked over the heads of the old wives when 
 they talked in dialect, and made fun of the boys 
 who came courting her, and sang "Where did 
 they get those hats ?" after coming out of the 
 church. 
 
 165
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Rose laughed and yet suffered, as one might 
 whose blood relatives were ridiculed. It was a 
 new experience to John Dutcher to have one 
 about who cried out at everything as if it were 
 the seventh wonder. The summer visitor had 
 never before penetrated to his farm and all the 
 women he had ever known could talk about 
 cattle and drainage and wool-washing almost 
 like men. In his interest and desire to do the 
 part of entertainer, he pushed on into subjects 
 which the girl listened to with wonder- wide eyes 
 and a flushed face. 
 
 He talked to her as he would with Rose, about 
 " farrer cows " and other commonplaces of stock- 
 raising to which Rose would have listened 
 abstractedly or with a slight feeling of disgust. 
 To Josie it was deeply fascinating, and just a 
 little bit like reading a forbidden book. It 
 affected her a little unwholesomely, just as it 
 would have made Ed, the hand, spasmodically 
 guffaw to stand before the Venus de Milo use 
 and custom do much. 
 
 She sometimes asked questions which she 
 would not have dared to ask her uncle, for John 
 Dutcher was beyond sex; indeed, he had always 
 been a man of pure heart and plain speech. He 
 was even in youth perfectly free from any sensu 
 ality, and now in his later middle life sex was a 
 fact like the color of a horse or a squash, and all 
 that pertained to it he talked of, on the same 
 166
 
 THE WOMAN'S PART 
 
 plane. It did not occur to him that he was going 
 beyond the lines of propriety in explaining to 
 this delicate little woman various vital facts of 
 stock-raising. 
 
 Josie sometimes went back to Rose smilingly, 
 and told her what had taken place. 
 
 " Why did n't you ask me you little goose ? 
 I never thought you did n't know those things. 
 We farm girls know all that when we are tod 
 dlers. We can't help it." 
 
 All this should have been tonic, thoroughly 
 wholesome to the dainty over-bred girl, and so 
 it ultimately became, though it disturbed her at 
 the time. 
 
 The two girls went out into the meadows and 
 upon the hills almost daily. They sought wild 
 strawberries in the sunny spots amid the hazel 
 brush. They buried themselves in the hay in 
 the field and climbed on the huge loads with 
 John and rode to the barn. They drank water 
 out of the spring lying flat on the ground; Rose 
 showed how it was done. They went up on the 
 hillsides under the edges of great ledges of 
 water-washed sandstone where Rose had made 
 her playhouse in her childhood, and she drew 
 forth from the crevices in the rocks the queer 
 little worn pieces of rock which she had called 
 horses and cows and soldiers. 
 
 Rose had not been so girlish since her first 
 vacation from school in Madison. She romped 
 
 167
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 and laughed with the ever-joyous Josie, and to 
 gether they grew brown and strong. But there 
 came into the lusty splendid joy of these days 
 hours of almost sombre silence and dreaming. 
 It all ended in nothing, this attempt at amuse 
 ment. 
 
 Here in the riant and overflowing opulence 
 of July, time without love's companionship was 
 time wasted. Of what avail these soft winds, 
 the song of birds, the gleam and lift and shim 
 mer of leaves, if love were not there to share it ? 
 
 Josie frankly confessed the name of the one 
 she wished to share it with, but Rose looked into 
 the sky and remained silent. Her soul was still 
 seeking, restless, avid, yet evermore discerning, 
 evermore difficult to satisfy. 
 
 They fell into long talks on marriage, and 
 Rose confided to her some of her deepest 
 thoughts, though she felt each time that this lit 
 tle twittering sparrow was hardly capable of un 
 derstanding her. 
 
 " I want to know the men who think the 
 great thoughts of the world," she said once as 
 they lay under the beeches on the hillside, far 
 above the haying field. " I don 't want to^ 
 marry I only want to know men who can lift 
 me up by their great plans. I want to forget 
 myself in work of some kind I do n't know 
 what kind any kind that will make me big and 
 grand in my life. I can't stand these little 
 168
 
 THE WOMAN'S PART 
 
 petty things here in this valley; these women 
 drive me crazy with their talk of butter and 
 eggs and made-over bonnets." 
 
 "I think they're funny," said Josie. "They 
 talk so loud and they get so interested in such 
 queer things." 
 
 Rose fell silent again. She knew Josie was 
 of this type, only her affairs happened to be of 
 a different sort, not larger, only different, petti 
 nesses of dress and teas. 
 
 " O, for a nice man ! " sighed Josie. " Why 
 did n't you tell me there were n't any nice men 
 up here?" 
 
 Meanwhile the lack of men was not apparent. 
 Hardly a day but some young fellow from Tyre 
 or the Siding made bold to hitch his horses to 
 the fence before Butcher's place. Rose was 
 annoyed and gave most of them scant courtesy. 
 Josie, however, always saw them and managed 
 to have great amusement out of their embarrass 
 ment. 
 
 Like summer girls in general she thought 
 any man better than no man at all. Rose, how 
 ever, could not endure a love-glance from any 
 of them. She found her household duties press 
 ing when they called, and Josie entertained them, 
 and afterward entertained her by mimicking their 
 looks and tones. It was very funny to see Josie 
 screw her little face into shapes to represent her 
 suitors' bashful grins and side-glances. 
 169
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 They were not always bashful, it must be 
 said. Sometimes they were distressingly bold, 
 and they came to the point of offensive warfare 
 with a readiness and assurance which scared 
 Josie. She had never seen anything like it. 
 
 Rose found Josie entertaining in any mood. 
 
 170
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AGAIN THE QUESTION OF HOME-LEAVING. 
 
 But the day came at last when Josie must say 
 good-bye, and then Rose's essential loneliness 
 swept back upon her in a bitter flood. That 
 night she walked her room in her naked feet, 
 with her handkerchief stifling her sobs, so that 
 John might not hear. She fought it out there 
 (she supposed) and ended at last by determining 
 to sacrifice herself to her father. 
 
 He could not be deserted, he needed her so, 
 now that he was growing old and a little weaker. 
 She must put away her vague, ambitious dreams 
 of success, and apply herself to making him 
 happy. 
 
 And yet to what end was all her study, she 
 thought, during these later years? Could it be 
 applied to doing him good? Her indifferent 
 talent as a musician seemed the only talent 
 which gave him joy. He cared nothing knew 
 nothing, of the things she loved and thought 
 about! 
 
 Was her life, like his, to come down to the 
 raising of cattle and the breeding of sheep? 
 171
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Was not his office served in educating her? 
 Should not the old be sacrificed to the young? 
 
 All these devilish questions came into her 
 mind like flashes of lurid light, but they all 
 paled and faded before this one unchangeable 
 radiance; he was her father, tender, loving, 
 simple, laborious and old. 
 
 She fell asleep after hours of writhing agony, 
 worn out, yet triumphant she imagined. 
 
 But she was not. Day followed day, each 
 one seemingly more hopeless than the other. 
 This consideration beat like a knell into her 
 brain, love could never come to her. Marriage 
 with these young men was no longer possible. 
 Love was out there, somewhere in the great 
 world, in the city among artists and music- 
 lovers, and men of great thought and great 
 deeds. Her powerful physical, mental and 
 emotional womanhood rebelled at this thought 
 of lovelessness; like the prisoner of old bound in 
 a sunless cavern where the drip-drop of icy water 
 fell upon his brain, she writhed and seemed like 
 to go mad. 
 
 This was the age of cities. The world 's 
 thought went on in the great cities. The life 
 in these valleys was mere stagnant water, the 
 great stream of life swept by far out and down 
 there, where men and women met in millions. 
 To live here was to be a cow, a tad-pole ! Grass 
 grew here, yes but she could not live on grass. 
 172
 
 AGAIN THE QUESTION OF HOME-LEAVING 
 
 The birds sang here, yes but there were Patti, 
 and Duse, and Bernhardt out there in the world. 
 
 Here you could arise at five o'clock to cook 
 breakfast and wash dishes, and get dinner, and 
 sweep and mend, and get supper, and so on, till 
 you rotted, like a post stuck in the mud. Your 
 soul would rot. She felt change going on all 
 the time. She was slipping back into shiftless- 
 ness, into minute untidiness into actual sloven 
 liness. There was no stimulus in these 
 surroundings, she told herself ; everything was 
 against her higher self. 
 
 Once she had read a sentence from Lowell 
 which flamed upon her mind now each time she 
 mused upon her lot. 
 
 " The wilderness is all right for a vacation, 
 but all wrong for a life-time." 
 
 She considered the coule" a wilderness. It 
 had nothing for her but nature, and nature palls 
 upon a girl of twenty, with red blood in her 
 veins, and splendid dreams in her heart. 
 
 Out there was her ideal. " Out there is the 
 man who is to fill out my life/' she uttered 
 to herself softly, so that only her inner ear 
 heard. 
 
 So she argued, fought, wept, surrendered, 
 and went to battle again. While all about her, 
 John and his sister, moved tranquilly to their 
 daily duties, calm as the cattle in the meadows. 
 To the discerning eye it was a wonderful sight to 
 
 173
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 see that dark, gloomy, restless girl seated op 
 posite those serene, almost stolid faces, to whom 
 "the world" was a breeze blowing in the tree- 
 tops. She had the bearing of a rebellious royal 
 captive a duchess in exile. Mrs. Diehl and 
 the hired man were the peasants who waited 
 upon her, but ate with her and her father was 
 the secure free-holder, to whom kings were ob 
 scure, world-distant diseases. 
 
 Then the equinoctial storms came on, and 
 days of dull, cold, unremitting rain confined 
 her to the house. The birds fell silent, the 
 landscape, blurred with gray mist, looked grim 
 and threatening, and there was prophecy of win 
 ter in the air. The season seemed to have 
 rushed into darkness cold and decay, in one 
 enormous bound. The hills no longer lifted 
 buoyant crests to heaven; they grew cheerless 
 and dank as prison walls. 
 
 One night Rose spoke. She had always been 
 chary of caresses ; even when a child she sat 
 erect upon her father 's knee, with a sober little 
 face, and when she grew sleepy she seldom put 
 hands to his neck, but merely laid her head on 
 his breast and went to sleep. John understood 
 her in all this, for was he not of the same feel 
 ing ? Love that babbled spent itself, his had no 
 expression. 
 
 His heart was big with pride and affection 
 when his splendid girl came over and put her
 
 AGAIN THE QUESTION OF HOME-LEAVING 
 
 arms about his neck, and put her forehead down 
 on his shoulder. 
 
 "O pappa John, you're so good tome 
 I 'm ashamed I do n't deserve this new 
 house !" 
 
 " O yes y' do, daughter." His voice when he 
 said "daughter" always made her cry, it was 
 deep and tender like the music of water. It 
 stood for him in the place of "dear" and "darl 
 ing," and he very, very seldom spoke it. All 
 this made it harder for her to go on. 
 
 "No, I don't, father O, father, I can't stay 
 here I can 't bear to stay here now !" 
 
 " Why not, Rosie ? " 
 
 " O because it 's so lonesome for me. There 
 is nobody for me to talk to " (she had to use 
 phrases he could understand) " and I want to go 
 on with my studies." 
 
 John considered a moment. 
 
 " But, Rosie, seems to me you 've got enough ; 
 you 're graduated." 
 
 Rose saw the hopelessness of making him 
 understand that, so she went back. 
 
 "It's so lonesome for me here, pappa John!" 
 
 He considered again. "I 'spose it is. Well, 
 you can go to the Siding every day if you want 
 to. Hitch up old Doll every day " 
 
 " I don 't care for the Siding ; it 's just as 
 lonesome there for me. I want to go to 
 Chicago." 
 
 175
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 John grew rigid. " Chicago ! What you 
 want to do there ? " 
 
 " I want to study, pappa. I want to go on 
 with my work. I '11 come home summers just 
 the same. I '11 come home Christmas if you 
 want me to. It won't cost much, I '11 live just 
 as cheap as I can " 
 
 "'T ain't that, 't ain't that, Rose," he said. 
 Then he lifted his head and looked around. 
 
 She read his thought and the tears came to 
 her eyes in blinding rush. 
 
 "I know, pappa. It's terrible to go now, 
 when you 've built this nice home for me, but 
 what can I do ? It 's so lonesome here ! I 
 thought maybe I 'd get used to it, but it gets 
 worse. I can 't stay here this winter. You must 
 let me go. I '11 go crazy if I stay here all 
 winter. I must go out into the world. I want 
 to be an artist. I want to see great people. I 
 can 't stay here, pappa John ! " 
 
 The terrible earnestness of every sentence 
 stabbed John Butcher's heart like a poniard 
 thrust. He put her away and rose stiffly. 
 
 " Well, well, Rosie, if you want to go " 
 
 He did not finish, but turned tremblingly 
 ; and walked out. She remained on the floor 
 near his chair and watched him go, her soul 
 sick with wretchedness. 
 
 Why was ,the world so ordered ? Why must 
 she torture that beautiful, simple soul ? Why 
 176
 
 AGAIN THE QUESTION OF HOME-LEAVING 
 
 was it that all her high thoughts, her dreams, her 
 ambitions, her longings, seemed to carry her 
 farther away from him ? 
 
 She could have beaten her head against the 
 wall in her suffering. She rose at last and 
 crawled slowly to her room, and abandoned her 
 self to black, rayless hopelessness. 
 
 John Dutcher went out to the hedgerow and 
 sat down on a stool. Around him bees were 
 humming in the wet clover. The calves thrust 
 their inquiring noses through the fence and 
 called to him. The rain-clouds were breaking 
 up, and the sun was striking under the flying 
 canopy at the West. 
 
 It was the bitterest moment of his life, since 
 his wife's death. His eyes were opened to his 
 fate ; he saw what he had done ; he had edu 
 cated his daughter out of his world. Never 
 again would she be content in the coolly beside 
 him. He saw how foolish he had been all these 
 years, to suppose he could educate and keep 
 her. For a moment he flamed with resentment V 
 and said to himself : 
 
 " I wish she had never seen a book." 
 
 Then he grew tender. He saw her again in 
 her little blue apron with its pockets full of 
 wheat he saw her blowing hair, her sunny face ; 
 he heard again the wind-tossed chatter of her 
 cunning lips. He ran swiftly over her develop 
 ment how tall she grew and how splendid she 
 177
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 was now, the handsomest girl in the coolly, and 
 he softened. She was right. Who was there of 
 the young farmers or even in Tyre good enough 
 for her ? 
 
 So he rose to a conception which had never 
 come to him before, and even now it was form- 
 lessly vast ; he felt the power of the outside 
 world, and reached to a divination of the fatality 
 of it all. It had to be, for it was a part of prog 
 ress. He was old and bent and dull. She was 
 young, gloriously young. The old must give 
 way to the young, while she was the one to be 
 bowed down to. She was queen and he was 
 subject. 
 
 With these conceptions in his mind he went 
 back and looked for her. He called her softly, 
 but she did not hear, she was sobbing deep into 
 her pillow. He came up the stairs and saw her 
 lying face downward on her bed. His heart 
 rose in his throat, because it was a terrible thing 
 to see his imperious girl weep. 
 
 " Rosie, old pappa John surrenders. You 're 
 right and he 's an old dummy." 
 
 She turned her face upon him. 
 
 " No, you 're right. We won't be separated." 
 
 " But we ain't going to be." He came over 
 and sat down on the edge of the bed. 
 
 "You'll come home summers, and maybe 
 I'll go to Chicago winters." 
 
 178
 
 AGAIN THE QUESTION OF HOME-LEAVING 
 
 Her face flashed into a smile. She flung her 
 arms about him again. 
 
 " O will you, pappa John?" 
 
 " Course I will. Wait till you see me in a 
 spike-tail coat and a boiled shirt. I'll astonish 
 the city dudes." 
 
 Rose laughed a little wildly, and tightened 
 her clasp about his neck. 
 
 "You're my dear old pappa John." 
 
 She went at once to her desk and wrote a 
 letter to Mary Compton, an old schoolmate who 
 had gone to Chicago and whose guidance to 
 bed and board now seemed valuable. 
 
 That night John Butcher did not go to sleep 
 at once, as he usually did on entering his room. 
 He went to his bureau the old bureau he had 
 bought for his wife thirty years before. In it he 
 kept his pictures. There were several tin-types 
 of Rose, in awkward, scared poses, and there too 
 was the last picture of his wife which had been 
 taken with Rose as a babe in her arms. 
 
 Butcher sat for a long time looking at it, and 
 the tears ran down his face unheeded, pitiful to 
 see. 
 
 When he got up at last he moved stiffly as if 
 he had suddenly grown ten years older, and in 
 his sleep his sister heard him groan and talk. 
 In the morning he said he had a touch of 
 rheumatism, but it would most probably pass off 
 as the sun came out. 
 
 179
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 Almost 6 o'clock, and the train due in Chica 
 go at 6:30 ! The city grew more formidable to 
 Rose as she approached it. She wondered how it 
 would first appear on the plain. There was little 
 sign of it yet. 
 
 As she looked out of the car window she saw 
 men stacking grain, and plowing. It was sup 
 per time at home, and John was just rising from 
 the table. The calves were bleating for their 
 pails of milk; the guinea-hens were clacking, 
 and the little turkeys crying in the grass, the 
 bees were homing, heavy with honey, and here 
 she sat, rushing toward that appalling and un 
 imaginable presence Chicago. 
 
 Somewhere just ahead it sat, this mighty hive 
 of a million and a half of people. The thought 
 of it made her heart beat quick, and her throat 
 filled. She was going there ; the lake was there ; 
 art was there, and music and the drama and 
 love ! Always under each emotion, always be 
 hind every success, was the understanding that 
 love was to be the woman's reward and recom- 
 180
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 pense. It was not articulate nor feverish, this 
 thought ; it was a deep, pure emotion, streaming 
 always toward the unknown. 
 
 She dreamed as the train rumbled on. She 
 would succeed, she must succeed. She gripped 
 the seat-rail with her broad, strong hands, and 
 braced herself like one entering a flood. 
 
 It was this wonderful thing again, a fresh, 
 young and powerful soul rushing to a great city, 
 a shining atom of steel obeying the magnet, 
 a clear rivulet from the hills hurrying to the sea. 
 On every train at that same hour, from every 
 direction, others, like her, were entering on the 
 same search to the same end. 
 
 " See that cloud ? " some one said; " that 's 
 Chicago." 
 
 Rose looked far to the south-east a gigan 
 tic smoke-cloud soared above the low horizon 
 line, in shape like an eagle, whose hovering 
 wings extended from south to east, trailing mys 
 terious shadows upon the earth. The sun 
 lighted its mighty crest with crimson light, and 
 its gloom and glow became each moment more 
 sharply contrasted. Towards this portentous 
 presence the train rushed, uttering an occasional 
 shrill neigh, like a stallion's defiance. 
 
 The brazen bell upon the engine began to clang 
 
 and clang ; small towns of scattered wooden 
 
 houses came into view and were left behind. 
 
 Huge, misshapen buildings appeared in flat 
 
 181
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 spaces, amid hundreds of cars. Webs of rail 
 way tracks spread out dangerously in acres of 
 marvelous intricacy, amid which men moved, 
 sooty, grimy, sullen and sickly. 
 
 Terrors thickened. Smells assaulted her 
 sensitive nostrils, incomprehensible and horrible 
 odors. Everywhere men delved in dirt and 
 murk, and all unloveliness. Streets began to 
 stretch away on either side, interminable, 
 squalid, filled with scowling, squaw-like women 
 and elfish children. The darkness grew, making 
 the tangle and tumult a deadly struggle. 
 
 Was this the city of her dreams ? This the 
 magnificent, the home of education and art. 
 
 The engine 's bell seemed to call back 
 " Good cheer! Good cheer!" The buildings grew 
 mightier but not less gloomy ; the freight cars 
 grew fewer, and the coaches more numerous. 
 It was an illimitable jungle filled with unrecog 
 nizable forms, over which night was falling. 
 
 The man with a hoop of clinking checks came 
 through. He was a handsome, clean and manly 
 fellow, and his calm, kindly voice helped Rose 
 to choke down her dread. 
 
 " Baggage checked ! Baggage Baggage 
 checked to any part of the city Baggage ! " 
 
 In him she saw the native denizen to whom 
 all these horrors were commonplace sensations, 
 and it helped her. It could n't be so bad as it 
 looked to her. 
 
 182
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 " Chicago, She-caw-go ! " called the brakeman, 
 and her heart for a moment stood still, and a 
 smothering sensation came upon her. She was 
 at the gate of the city, and life with all its terrors 
 and triumphs seemed just before her. 
 
 At that moment the most beautiful thing in 
 the world was the smooth pasture by the spring, 
 where the sheep were feeding in the fading 
 light, and if she could, she would have turned 
 back, but she was afloat, and retreat was impossi 
 ble. She pressed on with the rest, wondering 
 what she could do if Mary did not meet her. 
 
 Mary had hardly been more than an acquaint 
 ance at school, but now she seemed a staff to 
 lean upon. Rose looked to her as a guide to a 
 refuge, a hiding-place from all these terrors. 
 
 Out under the prodigious arching roof she 
 stepped, into the tumult of clanging bells, of 
 screeching, hissing steam and of grinding 
 wheels. The shouts of men echoed here and 
 there in the vaulted roof, mysteriously as in a 
 cavern. Up the long walk, streams of people 
 moved, each one laden, like herself, with a valise. 
 Electric lamps sputtered overhead. She hurried 
 on, with sensitive ears tortured by the appalling 
 tumult, her eyes wide and apprehensive. 
 
 Her friend was not to be seen, and she moved 
 on mechanically with the rest, keeping step 
 beside an old man who seemed to be familiar 
 
 183
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 with the station, and who kept off (without 
 knowing it), the attentions of two human vul 
 tures, in wait for such as Rose. 
 
 They moved up the steps into the waiting- 
 room before Rose gave up hope of her friend. 
 So far she had gone securely, but could she find 
 the house which was to be her home, alone ? 
 
 She sat down for an instant on the long seat 
 by the wall, and listened to the obscure thunder 
 of the street outside. It was terrifying, confus 
 ing. Shrill screams and hoarse shouts rose 
 above a hissing, scraping sound, the clang of 
 gongs and the click of shoe-heels. 
 
 Every voice was pitched to an unnatural key, 
 like that of men in a mill. The noise seemed 
 hot, some way, like smitten iron and brass. No 
 sound was familiar to her, nothing cool and 
 reposeful. Her head throbbed and her tongue 
 was dry. She had eaten little since early morn 
 ing and she felt weak. 
 
 She looked far more composed and self-reli 
 ant than she was, and when her friend came 
 swinging up to her she cried out : " O, Mary ! " 
 and her friend realized a little of her relief and 
 gratitude. 
 
 " O, here you are ! I got delayed forgive 
 me. I'm all out o' breath." (Here she kissed 
 her.) " How well you look ! Your complexion 
 is magnificent. Give me your valise. We'll 
 send for your trunk. Save twenty-five cents by 
 184
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 having it done up town. This way I'm glad to 
 see you. How is Wisconsin ?" 
 
 Mary Compton was tall, red-haired and 
 strong. Her eyes were keen and laughing, and 
 the tip of her chip hat and the swing of her 
 skirts let everybody know how able she was to 
 take care of herself thank you! She had been 
 the smart girl of a small town near Madison, 
 and had come to the city, as her brother Dan 
 had gone to Idaho, for the adventure of it. It 
 was quite like hunting bears. 
 
 " Shall we take the grip ? " 
 
 Rose didn 't know what she meant, but she 
 said : 
 
 "Just as you like.'' 
 
 " I like to take the grip ; it gives a fellow a 
 little fresh air, if there is any at all." 
 
 A train of cable-cars came nosing along like 
 vicious boars, with snouts close to the ground. 
 Mary helped Rose upon the open forward car, 
 which had seats facing outward. A young man 
 lifted his hat and made room for them. 
 
 " Hello, John!" said Mary, "aren't you a 
 little early tonight ? Rose, my friend Mr. 
 Hardy. Mr. Hardy, Miss Butcher." 
 
 The young fellow raised his hat again and 
 bowed. He was a pleasant-faced young man in 
 round straw hat and short coat. Mary paid no 
 further attention to him. 
 
 " I 've got you a room right next to mine," 
 
 185
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 she said to Rose, who was holding to the seat 
 with one hand and clinging to her hat with the 
 other. The car stopped and started with vicious 
 suddenness. 
 
 " You 'd better hang on; the gripman is mad 
 tonight," Mary explained. " We 're most to our 
 street, anyway." 
 
 To Rose it was all a wild ride. The noise, 
 the leaping motion of the cars and the perilous 
 passage of drays made it as pleasant to her as a 
 ride behind a running team on a corduroy road. 
 
 They came at last to quieter spaces, and 
 alighted finally at a cross street. 
 
 " I 'm pretty far up," said Mary, "but I want 
 it decently quiet where I live. I have noise 
 enough at the office." 
 
 Rose thought it indecently noisy. Peddlers 
 were crying out strange sing-song cries ; children 
 romped, screaming in high-pitched furious 
 voices ; laundry wagons and vegetable wagons 
 clattered about. There was a curious pungent 
 odor in the air. 
 
 On the steps of the houses groups of young 
 people, like Mary and John, sat on strips of 
 carpet, and laughed and commented on the 
 passers-by. Mary turned upon one fool who 
 called a smart word at her : 
 
 " Left your manners in Squashville, did n't 
 you, little man ?" 
 
 They came at last to an imposing block of 
 186
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 houses, situated at the corner. They entered 
 the door and climbed a gas-lit stairway, which 
 went round and round a sort of square well. 
 They came at last to a door which closed all 
 passage, and Mary got out her key and opened 
 it. 
 
 " Here we are! " she said cheerily. 
 
 The main hall was carpeted and ran past 
 several doors, which were open. In one room a 
 young man in his shirt sleeves was shaving before 
 a glass. In another a girl was reading. 
 
 "Hello!" called Mary. 
 
 " Hello!" said the girl, without looking up. 
 
 " Here's my room, and this 's yours." Mary 
 pushed open a door at the end of the hall. It 
 was a small room, papered in light buff and 
 blue. It had an oak dresser and mirror, a couple 
 of chairs and a mantel bed. It looked cheerful 
 and clean, but very small. Mary put down her 
 valise. 
 
 " I guess you '11 find everything all right, 
 water and towels. Wash up right off dinner '11 
 be ready soon." 
 
 Rose removed her hat and sat down, her 
 head throbbing with the heat and noise. She 
 heard the man at the glass whistling, and Mary 
 was thumping about in her vigorous way. 
 
 The dash of cold water cleared her brain, but 
 did not remove her headache. Her face was 
 still flushed and her eyes expanded. 
 187
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Mary coming back, looked at her a moment 
 and then rushed upon her and hugged her. 
 
 " O what a beauty you are ! I wish I had 
 half what you 've got." 
 
 Rose smiled faintly; she didn't care just that 
 moment whether she looked well or ill. 
 
 " The boys will all be dead in love with you 
 before dinner is over. Let me tell you about 
 them." She softened her reed-like voice down 
 and glanced at the transom furtively : " Never 
 forget the transom when you 're talking se 
 crets," she explained. 
 
 " First, there 's Mr. Taylor; he 's from Colorado 
 somewhere. He 's a lawyer. He 's a fine fellow 
 too you '11 like him. Then there 's Mr. Simons; 
 he 's a Jew, but he 's not too much of a Jew. 
 There 's Alice Fletcher; she 's queer and grumpy, 
 but she reads a lot and she can talk when she 
 wants to, and there 's you and myself." 
 
 " I don't feel like meeting them tonight," 
 Rose said ; " if I had a cup of tea I 'd stay in 
 my room." 
 
 "All right! I '11 bring it." 
 
 The bell rang and then the movement of feet 
 and the banging of doors told of the rush to 
 dinner. 
 
 Mary came back with a cup of tea and a 
 biscuit and some pudding. 
 
 " Have more, if you wish," she said. 
 
 188
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 " This will do nicely. You 're very kind, 
 Mary Compton. I don 't deserve it." 
 
 "You deserve the world," cried the adoring 
 girl. " If I had your figure and complexion I 'd 
 make the universe wait on me." 
 
 In spite of all this fervor of praise Rose felt 
 herself to be a very dejected and spiritless 
 beauty. She was irritated and angry with the 
 nagging of strange sights and sounds and 
 smells. The air seemed laden with disease and 
 filth. It was all so far from the coolly with its 
 purple hills looming against the sapphire sun-set 
 sky. 
 
 But this she came for to see the city ; to 
 plunge into its life. She roused herself there 
 fore with a blush of shame at her weakness. 
 She had appeared to be a child before this girl 
 who had always been her inferior at school. 
 
 It was a very dignified young woman who 
 arose to greet Mrs. Wilcox, the landlady, whom 
 Mary brought back. This dignity was not 
 needed. Mrs. Wilcox was a sweet-voiced, smil 
 ing woman of fifty being of those toilers who 
 smile when they are tired enough to drop. She 
 was flushed with fatigue and moved languidly, 
 but her kind, patient, pathetic smile touched 
 Rose almost to tears. 
 
 " I 'm glad to have you come here," the land 
 lady said. " We 're all nice people here, are n't 
 
 189
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 we, Miss Compton ? " Her eyes twinkled with 
 humorous self-analysis. 
 
 " Every one of us," corroborated Mary. 
 
 " I hope you '11 rest well. If there 's anything 
 we can do for you, my dear, let me know." 
 Such was the spirit in which the over-worked 
 woman served her boarders. They all called 
 her " mother." She had. no children of her 
 own, and her husband was "not at all well," yet 
 nothing could sour her sweet kindliness, which 
 included all the world. She was a familiar type, 
 and Rose loved her at once. 
 
 Miss Fletcher came in and was introduced. 
 She was a teacher in a school near by. 
 
 "What anybody should come to this town 
 for I can 't understand. I stay here because I 'm 
 obliged to. I 'm just back from the country to 
 my work." 
 
 "The country is all right for a vacation," 
 quoted Rose. 
 
 Mary broke in, " That 's what I say. I lived 
 on a farm and I lived in Castle Rock. When I 
 lived on the farm I wanted to get to Castle 
 Rock. When I got to Castle Rock I wanted to 
 get to Madison. Madison made me hone for 
 Chicago, and when I had a chance to come, I 
 just dropped my work at the University and put 
 for the city, and here I am and glad of it." 
 
 " I can 't understand such folly," murmured 
 Miss Fletcher. 
 
 190
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 " You could if you 'd stayed on the farm the 
 year round, with nobody to talk to and mighty 
 little to read. It 's all right for you to go up for 
 a couple of months and lie about in a hammock, 
 but you take a place like Castle Rock all the 
 year round ! It 's worse than the farm. Gossip ! 
 They talk every rag of news to smithereens, 
 don't they, Rose?" 
 
 Rose nodded. 
 
 " And then the people ! They're the cullin's. 
 All the bright boys and girls go to Madison and 
 Chicago or Dakota, and then the rest marry and 
 intermarry, and have idiot boys and freckle- 
 faced girls ! " 
 
 They all laughed. Mary was always extreme, 
 no matter what her subject. 
 
 Miss Fletcher sighed resignedly. 
 
 " Well, it 's fate. Here this big city sits and 
 swallows you bright people like a great dragon, 
 and the old folks are left alone in these dull places 
 you talk about." 
 
 Rose felt her eyes filling with tears. The 
 figure of her lonely old father came before her. 
 She saw him sitting beside the kitchen table, his 
 head on his palm, and all the new house empty 
 and dark. 
 
 Mary jumped up. " Here now, stop that 
 talk, we must leave Rose alone and let her go to 
 sleep." 
 
 They left her alone, but sleep was impossible. 
 191
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 The tramp of feet, the sound of pianos, the slam 
 of doors, the singing, laughing of the other 
 boarders made sleep impossible. The cars jangled 
 by, the click-clack of horses' hoofs and the swift 
 rattle of wagons kept up long after the house 
 was silent. Between midnight and four o'clock 
 she got a little sleep, out of which she awoke 
 while a booming, clattering wagon thundered by. 
 Other wagons clattered viciously along up the 
 alleys, and then some early riser below began to 
 sing, and Rose wearily dressed and sat down by 
 the window to listen. 
 
 Far to the south a low, intermittent, yet ever 
 deepening, crescendo bass note began to sound. 
 It was Chicago waking from the three hours' 
 doze, which is its only sleep. It grew to a rau 
 cous, hot roar ; and then to the north she heard 
 the clear musical cry of a fruit vendor, then 
 another : " Black-berries ! Fine fresh black 
 berries!" 
 
 The cars thickened, the sun grew hot and lay 
 in squares of blinding light across her carpet. 
 That curious pungent smell came in with the 
 wind. Newsboys cried their morning papers. 
 Children fought and played in the street. Dis 
 tant whistles began to sound, and her first morn 
 ing in Chicago came to Rose, hot, brazen, 
 unnatural, and found her blinded, bruised, dis 
 couraged, abased, homesick. 
 
 192
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 She was still sitting by the window wondering 
 what to do next, when Mary tapped at her door. 
 
 "May I come in? " 
 
 She looked fresh and strong, and her cheery 
 smile made her seem beautiful to Rose. 
 
 " How did you sleep? " 
 
 Rose shook her head. Mary laughed. 
 
 " I can tell by the looks of you. Look 's if 
 you 'd been pulled through a knot-hole, as they 
 say up in Molasses Gap. Heard everything that 
 took place, did n't you? I did too. You '11 get 
 over that. I sleep like a top now." 
 
 " What is that smell? Pah! " shuddered Rose. 
 
 Mary elevated her freckled nose. "What 
 smell? O, you mean that rotten, piney, turpen- 
 tiney smell that 's the Chicago smell. It 
 comes from the pavin' blocks, I guess. I never 
 inquired. 1 '11 ask Mr. Reed, he knows every 
 thing mean about Chicago. Well, you had n't 
 better go to breakfast looking like that. I want 
 you to paralyze that Boston snipe. I '11 bring in 
 your breakfast." 
 
 Rose accepted this service passively ; nothing 
 
 193
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 else was to be done in Mary Compton's pres 
 ence. She had the energy of a steam threshing 
 machine, and affection to correspond. 
 
 Rose wondered again what she could do 
 next. She was here to study art and literature 
 there was the library! She would read. And 
 there were lectures perhaps ; what she was to do 
 would come to her after awhile. 
 
 Mary returned a little hot of color, bringing 
 a tray. 
 
 " That Boston clothes-pin says you 're a myth 
 or a country gawk. You must lay him out cold 
 as a handspike. I 've been bragging about you 
 and they were all on tip-toe to see you this 
 morning. You sail in on 'em at dinner the way 
 you used to do at our chapter -house spreads. 
 Were n't they great! There now, I 've got to 
 vamoose. I'm not a lady of leisure. I 'm a 
 t typewriter on trial and looks won't carry me 
 through. I Ve got to rustle and walk chalk, as 
 they say in Molasses Gap. So good-bye. Take 
 it easy to-day. If you want to walk, go over to 
 the lake front," and she banged out of the door 
 and faced the city in her daily encounter. 
 
 Rose ate her breakfast and felt much better. 
 Her trunk came and she got out her dresses and 
 hung them up and made other preparations for 
 staying, although it seemed impossible she 
 should ever sleep another night in this terrible 
 city. 
 
 194
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 She got out her portfolio and wrote a letter 
 home and one also to Dr. Thatcher. Then she 
 looked over the little bunch of letters of intro 
 duction she had. One was to Doctor Isabel 
 Herrick, one to Professor H. Bevan Fowler at 
 Evanston, and one was to Orrin Thatcher ; that 
 was the Doctor's cousin, a young lawyer in the 
 Woman's building, whatever that was. With 
 these and ten dollars a week she faced Chicago. 
 The contest was unequal. 
 
 She felt this more keenly as she stood on the 
 lake front a little later on in the day. She went 
 there as the New Hampshire girl goes to the sea. 
 This body of water, majestic in its immense 
 shoreless spread, is wonderful to the young girl 
 from Iowa or interior Wisconsin. 
 
 A fresh, keen east wind had arisen, pure and 
 exhilarating, and the smooth expanse of glitter 
 ing green-and-blue water stretched out under a 
 vivid blue sky, in which great clouds floated like 
 snow mountains, trailing great shadows like 
 robes of state upon the lake. 
 
 The curving lake-wall was wet and glistening 
 with the up-flung spray. The slender elms were 
 fronded at the top like palms, and the vivid 
 green grass set opposite the pink-gray wall, and 
 the brilliant many-colored lake in magnificent, 
 harmonious contrast. The girl felt her soul 
 grow larger as she faced this scene, so strange, so 
 
 195
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 oriental, and she looked and looked, until it be 
 came a part of her. 
 
 It was all so remote and so splendid. There 
 the great violet-shadowed sails of ships stood, as 
 she had seen them in pictures of the sea. There 
 a gleaming steamer ran, trailing great banners of 
 smoke. There glittered the white bodies and slant 
 wings of gulls, dipping, upshooting and whirling. 
 To her eyes this was infinity, and the purple 
 mist in which the ships drave was ultimate 
 mystery. 
 
 At last she turned to look behind her. There 
 on the left stood rows of immense houses, barred 
 and grated like jails or fortresses; palaces where 
 lived the mighty ones of Chicago commerce. Be 
 fore their doors carriages stood, with attendants 
 in livery, such as she had read about and had 
 never seen. Up and down the curving ribbon 
 of lavender sand other carriages were driving, 
 with jingle of silver chains and soft roll of 
 wheels. The horses flung foam from their bits ; 
 they were magnificent horses (she knew horses 
 as well as any coachman), and their brass- 
 trimmed harnesses glittered in the sun like 
 burnished gold. 
 
 There was no noise here beyond the tread of 
 these stately horses, the babble of a few soft- 
 voiced children on the grass and the crackling, 
 infrequent splash of the leaping breakers. It 
 was a wide contrast to the Chicago of her first 
 196
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 glimpses the day before. That side of the city 
 terrified her, this oppressed and awed her. The 
 social splendor of this life appealed to her per 
 ception as it would not to any man. Her quick 
 imagination peopled these mansions with beauti 
 ful women and lordly men, and she felt herself 
 rightful claimant of a place among them. 
 
 She turned and faced them with set teeth and 
 a singular look in her half-closed eyes, and in 
 her heart she said: " Before I die I '11 go where 
 I please in this city. I '11 be counted as good as 
 any of you poor as I am." 
 
 To the onlooker to Mrs. Oliver Frost, she 
 was a girl in a picturesque attitude ; to the 
 coachmen on the carriages she was a possible 
 nurse-girl; to the policeman she was a speck on 
 the lake- front lawn. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Something of this mood was with her still 
 when she went in to dinner with Mary. Mary 
 ushered the way, beaming with joy. Rose never 
 looked more beautiful nor more imperious. The 
 Boston man was properly astonished; the Jew 
 salesman smiled till his chubby face seemed not 
 able to contain his gladness. Mr. Taylor, a 
 gaunt young man, alone seemed unmoved; the 
 morose teacher gave a sigh of sad envy. 
 
 Rose said little during the meal. She cor 
 dially hated Mr. Reed at once. His Boston 
 accent annoyed her, and his brutal sarcasm upon 
 197
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 the West aroused a new anger in her. She had 
 never listened to such talk before. It did n't 
 seem possible anybody could disparage the West. 
 
 " Civilization stops," he said during the 
 meal, " after you leave the Hudson riveh." 
 
 " Some folks' manners stop after they leave 
 the Hudson river, if they ever had any," Mary 
 replied, and the Jew cackled joyously. 
 
 He defended Chicago. " It is the greatest 
 place to do business in the world. I 'm a New 
 Yorker by birth, but Chicago suits me. I like 
 its hustle." 
 
 " That 's the point. It thinks of nothing but 
 hustle," said the Boston man. "I was speaking 
 of higher things. It lacks the art atmosphere 
 of Boston and Cambridge." 
 
 " It has all the atmosphere I need," said the 
 Jew. 
 
 To Rose all this was new. It had not oc 
 curred to her to differentiate the cities sharply 
 from one another. Chicago, to her, was a great 
 city, a splendid example of enterprise, and it 
 was to be her city, the pride of the West. To 
 the country mind a city is a great city when it 
 acquires a million people. Like the young Jew, 
 Rose had not missed any atmosphere. The tall 
 young man voiced her opinion when he said : 
 
 " This finicky criticism do n't count. You 
 might just as well talk about the lack of gon 
 dolas and old palaces in Boston. Conditions 
 198
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 here are unexampled. It 's a new town and I 
 think a splendid place to live. Of course you 
 can find fault anywhere." 
 
 Rose looked at him with interest. Such pre 
 cision and unhesitancy of speech she had not 
 heard since leaving college. 
 
 Mary glowed with gratified admiration. The 
 Jew was delighted, although he did not quite fol 
 low the implied rebuke. Miss Fletcher merely 
 said : 
 
 " If Mr. Reed do n't like Chicago he is privi 
 leged to go back to Boston. I do n't think Chi 
 cago would experience any shock if he did." 
 
 Mr. Reed wilted a little, but he was not 
 crushed. 
 
 " The trouble with you people is you do n't 
 know anything about any other city. You come 
 in here from Oshkosh and Kalamazoo, and Oko- 
 okono 
 
 "Hit him on the back!" called Mary, "he's 
 choking." 
 
 " O-con-o-mo-woc," calmly interpreted Miss 
 Fletcher. 
 
 Reed recovered "And a lot more outland 
 ish places 
 
 " How about Squanturn and Skowhegan and 
 Passamaquoddy," laughed Mary. 
 
 Reed collapsed " O well, those are old, 
 familiar ' 
 
 The others shouted with laughter. 
 199
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " O yes ! Everything old and New England 
 goes. You are too provincial, old boy. You 
 want to broaden out. I 've seen a lot of fellows 
 like you come here, snapping and snarling at 
 Chicago, and end up by being wild promoters." 
 The Jew was at the bat, and the table applauded 
 every hit. 
 
 Rose did not share in the talk she had so 
 little knowledge of cities but it served to 
 make Mr. Taylor a strong figure in her eyes. 
 He was tall and big-boned and unsmiling. He 
 studied her with absent-minded interest, and she 
 felt no irritation or embarrassment, for his eyes 
 were clean and thoughtful. He looked at her as 
 if she called up memories of some one he had 
 loved in another world, and she somehow grew 
 a little sad under his gaze. 
 
 As they sat in her room after dinner, Mary 
 asked : 
 
 " How do you like our crowd ? " 
 
 " I can 't tell yet. I don 't like that Boston 
 man. I never could bear the sound of 'ah' ." 
 
 "He's a chump ; but they ain't all like that. 
 I have met two or three decent Boston fellows 
 down in the office. Don't think they are all 
 muffs." 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 "Now take my 'boss' for example. He's 
 fine. He 's big enough so you don 't mind his 
 airs, but what do you think of Mr. Taylor ?" 
 200
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 Rose looked thoughtful, and Mary hastened 
 to say. 
 
 " Ain't he fine ? " She hoped to forestall 
 criticism. 
 
 " Yes, I think he 's fine. He makes me think 
 of Professor Jenks." 
 
 " A-hugh ! so he does me. Say Rose, I 'm 
 going to tell you something, do n't you ever 
 tell, will you ?" 
 
 "Why no of course not." 
 
 " Hope to die ? " 
 
 " Hope to die, hands crossed." 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " I came here to board because he was here." 
 
 " Why, Mary Compton ! " 
 
 " Ain't it awful? Of course, no one knows it 
 but you. I 'd just die if he knew it. I used to 
 be afraid that he 'd find out, but he can 't, be 
 cause you see, he never saw me till I came here, 
 and he thinks it is just accident. He 's so sim 
 ple about such things anyway, and he 's always 
 dreaming of something away off. O he 's won 
 derful ! He 's been all over the mountains. He 
 adores John Muir you know that man Profes 
 sor Ellis told us about? Well, he's lived just 
 that way weeks and weeks in the wildest moun 
 tains, and it's just glorious to hear him tell about 
 it." 
 
 Rose was astonished at Mary, generally so 
 201
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 self-contained. She talked as if she had vol 
 umes to tell and but short minutes to tell them 
 in. Her cheeks glowed and her eyes grew deep 
 and dark. 
 
 " He 's here reading law, but he do n't need 
 to work. He 's got a share in a big mine out 
 there somewhere, which he discovered himself. 
 He just thought he'd try civilization awhile, he 
 said, and so he came to Chicago. He kind o' 
 pokes around the law school (it 's in our build 
 ing that's where I saw him first, in the eleva 
 tor), just as an excuse. He hates the law; he 
 told me so. He comes in to see me sometimes. 
 Of course I leave the door open." She smiled. 
 " But it do n't make any difference to him. He 's 
 just the same here as he is anywhere I mean 
 he knows how to treat a woman. The school- 
 ma'am said she thought it was terrible to have 
 a man come into your room the same room 
 you sleep in but I told her it depended on 
 the man. That settled her, for Owen I mean 
 Mr. Taylor don't like her." 
 
 Rose listened in silence to this torrent of 
 words from Mary. Her mind was naturally fic- 
 tive, and she divined the immense world sug 
 gested by the girl's incoherent sentences. The 
 mysterious had come to her friend the "one 
 man of all the world," apparently a striking 
 personality, quite suited to Mary, with her prac 
 tical ways and love of fun. It confirmed her in 
 202
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 her conviction that a girl must adventure into 
 the city to win a place and a husband. 
 
 She rose and put her arms about her friend's 
 neck : 
 
 "I'm so glad, Mary." 
 
 " O goodness ! do n't congratulate me. He 's 
 never said a word and maybe he won't. I 
 can't understand him anyway it 's great fun." 
 
 A slow step crossed the hall, and a rap at the 
 door nearly took away Mary's breath; for a mo 
 ment she could not reply, then Mr. Taylor's 
 voice was heard. 
 
 " I beg your pardon." He was turning 
 away when Mary sprang up and opened the 
 door. 
 
 " O Mr. Taylor, is it you ?" 
 
 " Yes I did n't know but you and your 
 friend would like to go out somewhere ? " 
 
 " Would you, Rose ? " 
 
 " Not to-night, thank you. But you go. 
 Don't keep in on my account." 
 
 Mary struggled a moment, then she smiled 
 with tender archness. 
 
 " Very well, thank you, Mr. Taylor. I '11 be 
 ready soon." After he had gone she said : 
 
 " Perhaps he '11 propose ! " 
 
 Rose glowed sympathetically. " I hope he 
 will." 
 
 ****** 
 
 The next day Rose went down town alone. 
 203
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 The wind had veered to the south, the dust blew, 
 and the whole terrifying panorama of life in the 
 streets seemed some way blurred together, and 
 forms of men and animals were like figures in 
 tapestry. The grind and clang and clatter and 
 hiss and howl of the traffic was all about her. 
 
 She came upon the river just as the bridge was 
 being opened. Down toward the lake, which 
 had to her all the wonder and expanse of the 
 sea, boats lay thickly, steamers from deep water, 
 long, narrow and black. Excursion boats, gleam 
 ing white, and trimmed with shining brass, lay 
 beside the wharves, and low-lying tugs, sturdy, 
 rowdyish little things, passed by, floating like 
 ducks and pulling like bull-dogs, guiding great 
 two-masted sailing boats and long, low, grimy 
 steamers, with high decks at the ends. The 
 river ran below, gray-green, covered with float 
 ing refuse. Mountainous buildings stood on 
 either side of the waterway. 
 
 The draw, as it began to move, made a noise 
 precisely like an old fashioned threshing ma 
 chine a rising howl, which went to her heart 
 like a familiar voice. Her eyes for a moment 
 released hold upon the scene before her, and 
 took a slant far over the town to the coule" farm, 
 and the days when the threshing machine 
 howled and rattled in the yard came back, and 
 she was rushing to get dinner ready for the crew. 
 
 When the bridge returned to its place she 
 204
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 walked slowly across, studying each vista. To 
 the west, other bridges, swarming with people, 
 arched the stream on each side was equal 
 mystery. These wonderful great boats and their 
 grim brave sailors she had read about, but had 
 never seen. They came from far up the great 
 tumultuous lake, and they were going to anchor 
 somewhere in that wild tangle of masts and 
 chimneys and towering big buildings to the 
 west. They looked as if they might go to the 
 ends of the earth. At the stern of an out-going 
 boat four sailors were pulling at a rope, the 
 leader singing a wild, thrilling song in time to 
 the action. 
 
 So it was the wonderful and the terrifying 
 appealed to her mind first. In all the city she 
 saw the huge and the fierce. She perceived 
 only contrasts. She saw the ragged newsboy 
 and the towering policeman. She saw the rag 
 pickers, the street vermin, with a shudder of 
 pity and horror, and she saw also the gorgeous 
 show windows of the great stores. She saw the 
 beautiful new gowns and hats, and she saw also 
 the curious dress of swart Italian girls scaveng 
 ing with baskets on their arms. Their faces 
 were old and grimy, their voices sounded like 
 the chattered colloquies of monkeys in the 
 circus. 
 
 It all seemed a battlefield. There was no 
 
 hint of repose or home in it all. People were 
 
 205
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 just staying here like herself, trying to get work, 
 trying to make a living, trying to make a name. 
 They had left their homes as she had, and 
 though she conceived of them as having a foot 
 hold she could not imagine them having reached 
 security. The home-life of the city had not re 
 vealed itself to her. 
 
 She made her way about the first few blocks 
 below Water street, looking for Dr. Herrick's 
 address. It was ten o'clock, and the streets were 
 in a frenzy of exchange. The sidewalks were 
 brooks, the streets rivers of life which curled 
 into doors and swirled around mountainous 
 buildings. 
 
 It was almost pathetic to see how helpless she 
 seemed in the midst of these alien sounds. It 
 took away from her the calm, almost scornful, 
 self-reliance which characterized her in familiar 
 surroundings. Her senses were as acute as a 
 hare's and sluiced in upon her a bewildering 
 flood of sights and sounds. She did not appear 
 childish, but she seemed slow and stupid, which 
 of course she was not. She thought and thought 
 till she grew sick with thought. She struggled 
 to digest all that came to her, but it was like 
 trampling sand; she apparently gained nothing 
 by her toil. 
 
 The streets led away into thunderous tunnels, 
 beyond which some other strange hell of sound 
 and stir imaginatively lay. The brutal voices of 
 206
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 drivers of cabs and drays assaulted her. The 
 clang of gongs drew her attention, now here, now 
 there, and her anxiety to understand each sound 
 and to appear calm added to her confusion. 
 
 She heard crashes and yells that were of 
 murder and sudden death. It was the crash of 
 a falling bundle of sheet iron, but she knew not 
 that. She looked around thinking to see some 
 savage battle scene. 
 
 She saw women with painted faces and 
 bleached hair whom she took to be those mys 
 terious and appalling women who sell them 
 selves to men. They were in fact simple- 
 minded shop girls or vulgar little housewives 
 with sad lack of taste. 
 
 Every street she crossed, she studied, looking 
 both up and down it, in the effort to see some 
 end of its mystery. They all vanished in lurid, 
 desolate distance, save toward the lake. Out 
 there she knew, the water lay serene and blue. 
 This walk was to her like entrance into war. 
 It thrilled and engaged her at every turn. She 
 was in the center of human life. To win here 
 *was to win all she cared to have. 
 
 It was a relief to pass into the rotunda of the 
 splendid building in which Dr. Herrick's office 
 was. Outside the war sounded, and around her 
 men hastened. She entered the elevator as one 
 in a dream. The man hustled her through 
 the door without ceremony and clanged the door 
 207
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 as if it were a prison gate. They soared to 
 the ninth floor like a balloon suddenly liberated, 
 and the attendant fairly pushed her out. 
 
 " Here 's your floor Herrick, to the left." 
 
 Rose was humiliated and indignant, but sub 
 mitted. The hallway along which she moved 
 was marble and specklessly clean. On each side 
 doors of glass with letters in black told of the 
 occupations of the tenants. 
 
 She came at length to the half-open door of 
 Dr. Herrick's office and timidly entered. A 
 young girl came forward courteously. 
 
 "Would you like to see the Doctor?" she 
 asked in a soft voice. 
 
 " Yes, please. I have a letter to her from Dr. 
 Thatcher of Madison." 
 
 "O! well, I will take it right in. Be seated, 
 please." 
 
 This seemed good treatment, and the soft 
 voice of the girl was very grateful after the 
 hoarse war-cries of the street. Rose looked* 
 around the little room with growing composure 
 and delight. It was such a dainty little waiting 
 room, and argued something attractive in Dr. 
 Herrick. 
 
 " Come right in," the girl said on returning. 
 "The Doctor is attending to her mail, but she 
 will see you for a few moments." 
 
 Rose entered the second and larger room, 
 and faced a small graceful woman, of keen, 
 208
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 alert gaze. She appeared to be about thirty- 
 five years of age. She shook hands briskly, 
 but not warmly. 
 
 Her hand was small and firm and her tone 
 quick and decisive. "How-d'-you-do! Sit down! 
 I had a note from Dr. Thatcher the other day 
 saying I might expect you." 
 
 Rose took a chair while the Doctor studied 
 her, sitting meanwhile with small graceful head 
 leaning on one palm, her elbow on the corner of 
 her desk. No woman's eyes ever searched Rose 
 like those of this little woman, and she re 
 belled against it inwardly, as Dr. Herrick curtly 
 asked: 
 
 " Well, now, what can I do for you ? Dr. 
 Thatcher thought I could do something for you." 
 
 Rose was too dazed to reply. This small, 
 resolute, brusque woman was a world's wonder to 
 her. She looked down and stammered. 
 
 "I don't know I thought maybe you 
 could help me to find out what I could do." 
 
 The Doctor studied her for an instant longer. 
 She saw a large, apparently inexperienced girl, 
 a little sullen and a little embarrassed proba 
 bly stupid. 
 
 " Don't you know what you want to do ? " 
 
 " No that is, I want to write," confessed 
 *Rose. 
 
 " Write ! My dear girl, every addlepate 
 wants to write. Have you friends in the city ? " 
 209
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "One; a classmate." 
 
 " Man ? " 
 
 " No, a girl." 
 
 " Why did you leave home ? " 
 
 Rose began to grow angry. "Because I 
 could n't live the life of a cow or a cabbage. I 
 wanted to see the city." 
 
 The Doctor arose. " Come here a moment." 
 Rose obeyed and stood beside her at the win 
 dow, and they looked out across a stretch of 
 roofs, heaped and humped into mountainous 
 masses, blurred and blent and made appalling 
 by smoke and plumes of steam. A scene as 
 desolate as a burnt-out volcano a jumble of 
 hot bricks, jagged eave-spouts, gas-vomiting 
 chimneys, spiked railings, glass skylights and 
 lofty spires, a hideous and horrible stretch of 
 stone and mortar, cracked and seamed into 
 streets. It had no limits and it palpitated under 
 the hot September sun, boundless and savage. 
 At the bottom of the crevasses men and women 
 speckled the pavement like minute larvae. 
 
 " Is that what you came here to see ? " asked 
 the Doctor. 
 
 Rose drew a deep breath and faced her. 
 
 " Yes, and I 'm not afraid of it. It's mighty! 
 It is grander than I expected it to be grand 
 and terrible, but it 's where things are done." 
 
 Isabel Herrick studied her a little closer. 
 
 " You 'd leave your country home for this ? " 
 210
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 Rose turned upon her and towered above 
 her. Her eyes flashed and her abundant eye 
 brows drew down in a dark scowl. 
 
 " Would you be content to spend your life, 
 day and night, summer and winter, in Dutcher's 
 Coolly?" 
 
 " Pardon me," said Dr. Herrick cuttingly, 
 " the problem is not the same. I have not the 
 
 same 1 the question " 
 
 f " Yes, you who are born in the city and who 
 come up to see us on the farms for a couple 
 of weeks in June you take it on yourselves 
 to advise us to stay there! You who succeed 
 are always ready to discourage us when we come 
 to try our fortunes. I can succeed just as well 
 as you, and I '11 make you bow your head to 
 me before five years are gone." 
 
 Rose was magnificent, masterful. She was 
 flaming hot with wrath. This little woman had 
 gone too far. 
 
 Dr. Herrick turned abruptly. 
 
 "I guess I've made a mistake; sit down 
 again," she said, in softer tones. 
 
 Rose was not yet done. She kept her lofty 
 pose. 
 
 " Yes, you certainly have. I am not afraid of 
 this city; I can take care of myself. I would n't 
 be under obligations to you now for the world. 
 I want you to know I 'm not a beggar ask 
 ing a dollar from you; I 'm not a school-girl, 
 211
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 either. I know what I can do and you do n't. 
 I would n't have troubled you, only for Dr. 
 Thatcher." She moved toward the door, 
 gloriously angry, too angry to say good-day. 
 
 The Doctor's cold little face lighted up. She 
 smiled the most radiant smile, and it made her 
 look all at once like a girl. 
 
 " My dear I am crushed. I am an ant at 
 your feet. Come here now, you great splendid 
 creature, and let me hug you this minute." 
 
 Rose kept on to the door, where she turned: 
 
 " I do n't think I ought to trouble you fur 
 ther," she said coldly. 
 
 The Doctor advanced. " Come now, I beg 
 your pardon. I 'm knocked out. I took you 
 for one of those romantic country girls, who 
 come to the city helpless as babes. Come 
 back." 
 
 Rose came near going on. If she had, it 
 would have lost her a good friend. She felt 
 that and so, when the Doctor put an arm around 
 her to lead her back to the desk, she yielded, but 
 she was still palpitating with the heat of her wrath. 
 
 " My dear, you fairly scared me. I never 
 was so taken by surprise in my life; tell me all 
 about yourself; tell me how you came to come, 
 where you are and all about it." 
 
 Rose told her not all, of course she told 
 her of her college work, of her father, of the 
 coule", of her parting from her father. 
 212
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 - " O yes," the Doctor interrupted, " that 's the 
 % way we go on we new men and women. The 
 ways of our fathers are not ours; it's tragedy 
 ^either way you put it. Go on!" 
 
 At last she had the story, told with marvelous 
 unconscious power, direct, personal, full of ap 
 peal. She looked at Rose with reflective eyes 
 for a little space. 
 
 " Well, now we '11 take time to consider. Mean 
 while bring me something of yours; I '11 show it 
 to a friend of mine, an editor here, and if it 
 pleases him we '11 know what to do. Meanwhile, 
 come and see me, and I '11 introduce you to 
 some nice people. Chicago is full of nice peo 
 ple if you only come at them. Come and see me to 
 morrow, can 't you? O you great, splendid crea 
 ture ! I wish I had your inches." She glowed 
 with admiration. 
 
 " Come Sunday at six and dine with me," 
 yielding to a sudden impulse. " Come early and 
 let me talk to you." 
 
 Rose promised and then went out into the 
 waiting room. 
 
 " Etta, dear, this is Miss Butcher ; this is my 
 sister. I want you to know each other." The 
 little girl tiptoed up and took Rose's hand with 
 a little inarticulate murmur. 
 
 There was a patient waiting, but Dr. Herrick 
 ignored her and conducted Rose to the door. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear, I 'm glad you came. You 've 
 
 213
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 given me a good shaking up. Remember, six,, 
 sharp!" 
 
 She looked after Rose with a wonderful glow 
 in her heart. 
 
 " The girl is a genius a jewel in the rough," 
 she thought. " She must be guided. Heavens ! 
 How she towered." 
 
 When she stepped into the street Rose felt ' 
 taller and stronger, and the street was less ap 
 palling. She raised her eyes to the faces of the 
 men she met. Her eyes had begun their new 
 search. The men streamed by in hundreds ; 
 impressive in mass, but comparatively uninter 
 esting singly. 
 
 It was a sad comment upon her changing | 
 conceptions of life that she did not look at the 
 poorly dressed men, the workmen. She put* 
 them aside as out of the question ; not con- \ 
 sciously, for the search at this stage was still un 
 conscious, involuntary, like that of a bird seek- 
 ing a mate, moved by a law which knows neither ', 
 individuals nor time. ^ 
 
 She saw also the splendor of the shop win 
 dows. She had a distinct love for beautiful fab 
 rics as works of art, but she cared less for dress 
 than one would suppose to see her pass linger- 
 ingly before great luminous cataracts of drapery. 
 She was quietly dressed, and gracefully dressed, 
 beyond this she had never cared to go, but she 
 constructed wonderful homes and owners out of 
 214
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 the glimpses of these windows, and from the 
 passing of graceful young girls, clothed like 
 duchesses, and painted (some of them) like wo 
 men of the under world. 
 
 It all grew oppressive and disheartening to 
 her at last, and she boarded a State street car 
 (the only car she knew) and took her way up 
 home. All the people in the car looked at her 
 as if she had intruded into a private drawing 
 room. 
 
 She was evidently from the country, for, 
 though it was in the day of quaintness, she 
 wore her hair plain. It was also the middle 
 period of the curious and inexplicable little 
 swagger which all duly-informed girls assumed, 
 but Rose walked on her strong elastic feet with 
 a powerful swing which was worth going miles 
 to see. It was due to her unconscious imitation 
 of the proud carriage of William De Lisle. She 
 loved that forward swing of the thigh, with the 
 flex of the side which accompanied it. It was 
 her ideal of motion, that free action of knee, 
 waist and neck, which she felt rather than saw in 
 the great athlete. 
 
 She made a goodly figure to look at, and it 
 was no especial wonder that the people in the 
 car faced her. Her forehead was prominent and 
 her eyes were sombre. It was impossible for 
 the casual observer to define why she made so 
 marked an impression upon him. It was because 
 
 215
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 she was so fresh and strong, and unaffected and 
 unconscious. 
 
 Pure men did not smile at her as they might 
 at a pretty girl. They looked at her with wide, 
 quiet eyes, and she knew they meant to be per 
 fectly respectful. There was one man looking 
 at her like that when she looked up to pay the 
 conductor. There was a deep sorrowful look in 
 his eyes, and his face, too, was sad. 
 
 She did not understand his mood, but was 
 moved by it. When she looked at him again 
 he dropped his eyes to his paper. He was a 
 large man of thirty or more, and had a rugged, 
 serious face. She remembered it long after 
 wards. 
 
 At lunch she found no one but Mr. Taylor. 
 He loomed up at the further end of the table, 
 his gaunt, grave face and broad shoulders tower 
 ing up like a farmer's. She studied him closely, 
 now that she knew more about him. He had a 
 big, wide, plain face, with gentle gray eyes. His 
 beard was trimmed round and made him look 
 older than he was. He was a man into whose 
 eyes women could look unafraid and unabashed. 
 He greeted Rose with a smile. 
 
 " I 'm very glad you 've come. I was afraid 
 I should eat lunch alone. With your permission 
 I '11 move down to your end of the table." 
 
 Rose was very glad to have him take a seat 
 near, and they were friends at once. They 
 216
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 naturally fell upon Mary as a topic. Mr. Taylor 
 spoke of her quietly : 
 
 " Mary's a fine girl," he said. " I do n't like 
 to see her work. I do n't like to see any woman 
 do work like that. I do n't claim any right to 
 say what women shall do or not do, but I 
 imagine they would n't go into shops if they 
 were not, in a way, forced into it." 
 
 Rose defended the right of a girl to earn her 
 own living. He hastened to explain further : 
 
 " Of course a woman should be free and inde 
 pendent, but is she free when pressure forces her i 
 into typewriting or working in a sweat-shop ? " 
 
 Rose turned his thoughts at last by asking 
 about the West. He expanded like flame at the 
 thought. 
 
 " Ah ! the old equatorial wind is blowing to 
 day, and my hair crackles with electricity." He 
 smiled as he ran his hands through his hair. 
 "On such days I long for my pony again. 
 Sometimes, when I can 't stand it any longer, I 
 take a train to some little station and go out and 
 lie flat down on the grass on my back, so that I 
 can 't see anything but sky; then I can almost 
 imagine myself back again where the lone old 
 peaks bulge against the sky. Do you know 
 John Muir and Joaquin Miller ?" 
 
 Rose shook her head. His eyes glowed 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 " There are two men who know the wilder- 
 217
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 ness. Your Thoreau I 've read, but he don't 
 interest me the way these Rocky Mountain 
 fellows do. Your eastern fellows do n't really 
 know a wilderness they 're sort o' back pas 
 ture explorers. John isn't a bit theatrical, he's 
 been there. He does n 't take a train of guides to 
 explore a glacier, he sticks a crust of bread in 
 his belt along with a tin cup, and goes alone. 
 I 've been with John in the Sierras, and once he 
 came over into my range." 
 
 Rose defended Emerson and Thoreau as if 
 she were the easterner this Colorado hunter 
 considered her. As she talked he fixed great 
 absent-minded eyes upon her, and absorbed 
 every line of her face, every curve of her lips 
 every changing wave of color. 
 
 "I don't care for the wilderness as you do. 
 What is a bird compared to a man, anyway? I 
 like people. I want to be where dramas are 
 being played. Men make the world, bears 
 don't." She ended hotly. 
 
 He slowly withdrew his gaze. 
 
 " I guess you 're right." He smiled a wise 
 smile. " If the wilderness had been everything 
 in the world, I would n't be here. A woman is 
 more than a flower. A woman would make my 
 mountains a paradise." 
 
 " You have no right to ask a woman to go 
 vthere with you not to stay," she added quickly. 
 His smile passed. 
 
 218
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 " You 're right again. Unless I could find a 
 woman who loves the wilderness as I do." 
 
 " That is out of the question," she replied. 
 "No woman loves the wilderness as a home. 
 All women love cities and streets and children." 
 She had a young person's readiness to general 
 ize, and pitilessly flung these hopeless truisms at 
 him. He arose, apparently made sadder by 
 them. He sighed. 
 
 " But civilization carries such terrible suffer 
 ing with it." 
 
 Rose went to her room and looked at her 
 other letters of introduction. Should she pre 
 sent them ? What would be the use. The 
 scene with Dr. Herrick had not been pleasant ; 
 true, it had apparently brought her a friend, but 
 it was a rigorous experience, and she hardly 
 felt it worth while at the moment to go through 
 another such scene to win another such friend. 
 
 She fell to looking over her manuscripts. 
 They were on lined paper, stitched together at 
 the top. They were imitative, of course, and 
 leaned toward the Elizabethan drama, and 
 toward Tennyson and Mrs. Browning, so far as 
 verse- form went. There were also essays which 
 she had written at college, which inquired 
 mournfully, who will take the place of the fallen 
 giants, Bryant, Longfellow, Emerson ? She had 
 eloquent studies of Hugo and valiant defences 
 of Dickens. She reflected in her writing (nat- 
 219
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 urally) all the conventional positions in litera 
 ture. She stood upon the graves of the dead as 
 if she feared they might be desecrated. 
 
 She was a pupil, and as a pupil she had con 
 sidered literature as something necessarily afar 
 off, in England or France, in Boston and Cam 
 bridge, though she had come to think Chicago 
 might be a place suitable for a humble begin 
 ning, but that it might be the subject of literature 
 had not occurred to her. She had never known 
 a person who had written a book. Professor 
 Ellis and the President had written scientific 
 treatises, but, not being a fool, she knew there 
 was a difference between getting an article into 
 a country weekly and getting into a big daily, 
 to say nothing of the great magazines. She 
 wished for advice. Being out in the world now, 
 something must be done with her writings. 
 
 These essays were good and thoughtful, they 
 represented study and toil, but they did not 
 I represent her real self, her real emotions, any 
 , more than her reading represented her real 
 , liking. Her emotions, big, vital, contempo 
 raneous, had no part in this formal and colorless 
 . pedantry. Of this she was still ignorant, how 
 ever. 
 
 She was sorting her poems over and dream 
 ing about them when Mary came home. 
 
 " O, you dear! I've been thinking about 
 you all day. Did you see your woman doctor?"
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Did you like her ? " 
 
 " Well, I do n't know yes, I think I do. I 
 did n't at first." 
 
 " Where else did you go ? " 
 
 " Nowhere. I came home to lunch." 
 
 " Eat alone ? " Mary was taking off her 
 things and was more than usually fragmentary. 
 
 "No. Mr. Taylor was there." Mary faced 
 her. 
 
 " Now see here, Rose Butcher, do you want 
 to break my heart into smithereens? If you 
 do, you go on lunching with Owen Taylor." 
 
 Rose laughed at her tone of simulated sor 
 row and dismay. 
 
 " He moved down to my end of the table, 
 too." 
 
 Mary plumped into a chair and stared. 
 
 " Well, that finishes me. I 'm coming home 
 to lunch after this. If you prove a terrater, 
 I '11 have your back hair, Rose Dutcher." 
 
 " I could n't help it. He did n't want to 
 shout at me across the table." 
 
 Mary's voice softened. 
 
 " What did you talk about ? " 
 
 " He talked about you." 
 
 " Did he ? What did he say ?" 
 
 "He said you were a good girl, and you 
 are." 
 
 " Is that all ? " 
 
 221
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " What more could you ask ? " 
 
 " He might 'ave praised me beauty ! " Then 
 she laughed and rushed at Rose and hugged 
 her for some reason not expressed. 
 
 "Is n't he just grand?" 
 
 " I 'm going out to dinner Sunday night ! " 
 
 "Where ? Woman doctor's ? " 
 
 " Yes. I met her sister, too." 
 
 "O, you '11 soon be getting so swell you won't 
 notice us. Well, anyhow, you '11 leave me 
 Owen?" 
 
 In the mood in which she went to sleep that 
 night, there was no premonition of conquest. 
 The tide of her life sank low. It was impossible 
 for her to succeed she, a little country girl, of 
 five feet nine. She looked at her bulk as it 
 showed under the quilts. How small a thing 
 she was to be set over against the mighty city. 
 
 And yet Napoleon was less than she. And 
 Patti and Edwin Booth were not so large. The 
 life of a great actor, like Edwin Booth, a singer, 
 like Patti, interested her deeply. She wondered 
 that they could do things like other people. 
 They were so public, so admired, so lifted into 
 the white-hot glare of success. 
 
 She brought her mind back to the point. 
 They succeeded, small beings though they were, 
 they faced the millions of the earth and became 
 the masters, the kings and queens of art.
 
 HER FIRST CONQUEST 
 
 By what necromancy did they do this ? If it 
 was born in them, then there was hope for 
 her ; if they reached it by toil, then, surely, there 
 was hope for her. 
 
 223
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 Rose went to see the parts of the city which 
 no true Chicagoan ever visits. That is to say, 
 she spent Sunday in the park, admiring with 
 pathetic fortitude the sward, the curving drives, 
 and the bridges and the statues, in company 
 with the lowly and nameless multitude she even 
 crowded in to see the animals. 
 
 She had intended to get back to church, con 
 formable to Mary's programme, which was to 
 start in St. James, and go in rotation to all 
 the great churches and hear the choirs; but it 
 happened that on this first Sunday there was a 
 fine west wind, and the three-masters were set 
 ting sail to the north close inshore, and when 
 Rose found she could sit on the park benches 
 and see those mighty birds sail by she was con 
 tent to do that and nothing more. 
 
 She had no cheap, easy and damnable com 
 parisons. The passage of each purple-sailed 
 lumber freighter was a poem to her. They 
 floated noiselessly, effortlessly, on a beautiful sea 
 of color. They drove like butterflies in dreams, 
 their motive power indiscernible. 
 224
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 She sat with her chin in her palm, her big 
 eyes, like beautiful windows, letting in the sun 
 shine and the grace of ships and clouds without 
 effort, fixed in an ecstasy of reverie. Around 
 her streamed floods of the city's newly acquired 
 residents, clerks, bookkeepers, typewriters, shop 
 girls, butcher's boys, salesmen, all fresh from the 
 small towns and from the farms of the West. As 
 the ships passed, she gave her attention to these 
 people recognized in them many familiar types. 
 There was the smart young man, son of the tav- 
 ernkeeper in Cyene. There was the blundering 
 big wag, Ed Smith of Molasses Gap (assistant 
 shipping clerk in Smith & Rydal's hardware 
 store now). There were types like Mary, hearty, 
 loud-voiced, cheery, wholesome, whom the city 
 could never rob of their native twang. There 
 were Tom and Grace and Elsa and Bert and all 
 the rest of the bright, restless spirits of the coun 
 try towns and wide-awake school districts come 
 to try their fortunes in the great city like herself. 
 
 They wore bargains in ready-made clothing 
 pretty generally, but it was up-to-date and they 
 were all clean as a new dime. They laughed, 
 shouted jokes, scuffled and pushed the girls, 
 quite in the good country way. They made 
 quaint and sometimes insolent remarks about 
 the park and its adornments, assuming blase" airs 
 as old residents, and pointing out to the later 
 arrivals the various attractions. 
 225
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 There came by other groups, as alien as the 
 foregoing were familiar. Dark-skinned, queer, 
 bow-legged, bewhiskered little men, followed by 
 their wives and children, all sallow and crooked. 
 They were all foreigners. Great droves, whole 
 neighborhoods drifted along, chattering unintel 
 ligible languages, incomprehensible to the coun 
 try girl as the Chinese. Whether they were 
 Italians or Jews or Bohemians she could not 
 tell, but she could see the marks of hunger and 
 hard work on their pallid faces. These were, 
 no doubt, the people who moved about under 
 the murk of that deadly region through which 
 she had been borne by her train that first night. 
 
 She went home from this first visit to the 
 park oppressed and over-borne with the multi 
 tude of her new impressions. She felt quite as 
 she did upon her return from the Art Institute, 
 to which she had hastened early in the first 
 week. So much that was artificially beautiful 
 tired her and irritated her, like eating a meal 
 of honey and sponge cake. Her head ached 
 with the formal curves of the drives, with the 
 unchanging fixedness of the statues, just as the 
 unnatural murky tones of the landscapes in 
 frames gave her vague discomfort. 
 
 In the few days between her meeting with 
 Isabel and her dinner she saw the Wheat Ex 
 change (which interested her mightily, like bat 
 tle), she went again to the Art Institute, she 
 226
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 visited other parks, she went to the top of the 
 Masonic Temple, and did many other things 
 which the native high-class Chicagoan prides 
 himself on never doing. Happily she appre 
 hended not the enormity of her offence; on the 
 contrary, she was seeing life, and this feeling 
 compensated her when she did not otherwise en 
 joy "a sight." It was a duty, and she felt 
 grateful to the unknown city officials for the 
 chance to see these things, even if it nearly broke 
 her neck and tired her out to see them. She 
 looked forward to her dinner with great interest. 
 She had thought a great deal about Dr. Her- 
 rick, and had come to the conclusion that she 
 was not much to blame. " I suppose she thought 
 I was a poor helpless ninny coming to ask her 
 for a job," she said to Mary. 
 
 " Well, she could n't have had much gump 
 tion," Mary loyally replied. 
 
 Mary came home from a walk with Mr. Taylor 
 on purpose to help Rose "fix up and get off," 
 but found her quite dressed and watching the 
 clock. 
 
 " Well, you are a prompt one ! Stand up 
 now, and let me see if you 're all right." 
 
 Rose obediently stood and was twirled about 
 in various lights. 
 
 " That 's fine ! That grey dress is such a fit, 
 and scarlet goes well with it. O, you sweet thing! 
 How 're you going to get home?" 
 227
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " Walk, of course." 
 
 " Shall I send Owen over for you ? " 
 
 They both laughed at her tone. 
 
 " O, what a self-sacrificing friend ! " Rose ex 
 claimed. " I guess I can walk home alone. I 'm 
 not afraid of the dark." 
 
 " O, it ain 't that. It would be sweller to have 
 some one come after you." 
 
 "Well, you and Owen both come." 
 
 "Well, I '11 see. If I feel safe by nine-thirty 
 I'll send him. But if you're not back here by 
 ten o'clock I '11 be after ye." This made them 
 both laugh again. 
 
 " Where is this address ? " 
 
 Rose gave her the card. 
 
 " Why, this is away up in the swell part. My, 
 ain 't you comin' on ! " Mary clucked with her 
 tongue. " You '11 be calling on the Lake Drive 
 soon." 
 
 Rose looked neat and altogether well com 
 posed in her simple grey dress and sober-hued 
 bonnet and gloves. She wasn't in the very 
 latest fall fashion, of course, but she was not 
 noticeably out of vogue. She felt quite at ease 
 as she walked up the street. 
 
 This ease began to desert her as the houses 
 grew larger and the doorplates more ornate. 
 What if Dr. Herrick lived in one of these 
 houses ! They were not, of course, palatial like 
 those houses on the lake front, but they looked 
 228
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 too grand for any of her friends to live in them. 
 Her fear of getting tangled in social intricacies 
 grew keener as she walked up the steps to a 
 large cream-colored brick building. The mys 
 tery of "flats" was to be faced. The entrance was 
 tiled and flecklessly clean. On the right were 
 three bells, one above the other. Over the sec 
 ond one she saw Dr. Herrick's name. She pulled 
 the bell and waited for developments. 
 
 Suddenly a hollow voice, hoarse and breathy, 
 pushed from the wall. 
 
 "Kim roight up." She turned to the inner 
 door which opened mysteriously, and a small 
 boy in buttons motioned her to the elevator. 
 She began to comprehend and felt grateful to 
 the small boy for his considerate gravity. 
 
 At the landing the door was opened by Etta, 
 the pretty little sister. 
 
 She said " How-do-you-do ! " in her soft, timid 
 little voice, and let Rose into an exquisite little 
 bedroom off the hall and asked her to lay off 
 her hat. She stood in awe of Rose, who seemed 
 very large and stern to her. 
 
 Rose felt a little nervous about what was to 
 come after, but contrived to keep outwardly 
 calm while following her gentle guide out into 
 the hall and forward into a small reception 
 room. Isabel arose and greeted her with a smile 
 of delight. 
 
 " Ah ! here you are ! Do you know I began 
 229
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 to fear you were mythical that I 'd dreamed 
 you. Warren, this is Miss Dutcher. Miss 
 Butcher, Mr. Mason." A slow, large man stepped 
 forward and looked her in the face with pene 
 trating eyes. He was a little taller than she 
 was and his face had a weary look. He was 
 blond as a Norwegian and his voice was very 
 beautiful. 
 
 "I am very glad you 're not a myth," he said, 
 and his face lost its tired look for a moment. 
 
 " This is my nephew, Mr. Paul Herrick ; " a, 
 slim young man came up to shake hands. He 
 was plainly a college man, and Rose compre 
 hended him at once. 
 
 Isabel's voice changed and a little flush came 
 to her face as she put her hand on the shoulder 
 of a tall, black-bearded man standing quietly 
 in the shadow. 
 
 " This is Dr. Sanborn, my husband-who-is- 
 to-be." 
 
 "If nothing happens." He smiled as he 
 shook hands. 
 
 " If she does n't conclude to take me in 
 stead," remarked Mason. 
 
 Rose had perception enough at command to 
 feel the powerful personalities grouped about 
 her. She sat near Dr. Sanborn, with whom she 
 was at ease at once, he was so awkward and so 
 kindly. He took off his glasses and polished 
 them carefully as if anxious to see her better. 
 230
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 " Isabel tells me you gave her a little lecture 
 the other day. I 'm glad of it. We city folks 
 need it once in a while. We get to thinking 
 that country folks are necessarily fools and 
 stupids by reason of our farce-comedies and our 
 so-called comic weeklies." 
 
 " We 're not so bad as that," said Rose. 
 
 " Of course not ; nobody could be so bad as 
 that." 
 
 Isabel sat down near Mason. " I tell you, 
 Warren, that girl has a future before her." 
 
 " No doubt. It could n't well be behind 
 her." 
 
 " Don't be flippant ! See that head ! But it 
 ain't that she has power. I feel it, she made 
 me feel it. I want you to see some of her 
 writing and see what can be done for her." 
 
 Mason looked bored. "Writes, does she ?" 
 
 " Of course she writes. See that head, I 
 say." 
 
 "I seethe head and it's a handsome head. 
 I '11 concede that. So is Sanborn's, but he 
 can't write a prescription without a printed 
 form." 
 
 " O well, if you are in the mood to be irrev 
 erent ! " 
 
 Mason's face lighted up. " There, you can 
 
 write ! Anyone who is capable of a touch like 
 
 that in the presence of gods, men should be 
 
 meek. At the same time I would hasten to 
 
 231
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 warn you, the Doctor is becoming marvelously 
 interested in this girl with a future. He has 
 faced her; he is actually touching her knee 
 with his forefinger ! " 
 
 Isabel laughed. "He always does that 
 when he argues anything. It won't do any 
 harm." 
 
 " It might n't do you any harm, but that 
 innocent country girl ! " 
 
 "She can take care of herself. You should 
 have heard her put me down in my chair. I 
 want you to take her in to dinner." 
 
 " I madam ? Etta is my choice, after the 
 hostess, of course. I 'm a little shy of these 
 girls who write." 
 
 " Well, you take me in and I '11 let Paul 
 take Rose, but I want her to sit by you. I in 
 vited you, of all the men of my vast acquaint 
 ance, because I hoped your trained and fictive 
 eye would see and appreciate her." 
 
 " My trained and fictive eye is regarding 
 her, but maybe she is like an impressionist 
 painting, better seen at a little distance. I 
 confess she is attractive at this focus, but O, 
 if her mind ! " 
 
 "You need not worry about her mind. 
 She 's a genius. Well, I guess Professor Roberts 
 is not coming. Suppose we go in ! " 
 
 " Are n't we rather formal tonight ? " 
 
 "Well, yes, but Dr. Sanborn had no din- 
 232
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 ner in the middle of the day so I transferred 
 ours." 
 
 " I 'm glad you did, for I 'm hungry too." 
 
 And so it happened Rose found herself seated 
 beside the big blond man whose face seemed so 
 weary and so old. Paul sat on her left, and 
 they chatted easily on college affairs. He was 
 from Ann Arbor, he told her. 
 
 Rose looked with wonder at Dr. Herrick. 
 She was quite another woman, entirely unprofes 
 sional. Her face was warm with color, and she 
 wore an exquisite dress, simple as a uniform, yet 
 falling into graceful soft folds about her feet. 
 Her brown hair was drawn about her pretty 
 head in wavy masses. Her eyes sparkled with 
 the pleasure and pride of being hostess to such 
 company. Altogether she looked scarcely older 
 than Rose. The table was set with tall candles 
 with colored shades, and the simple little dinner 
 was exquisitely served. At the same time it all 
 seemed artificial and unhomelike to Rose. The 
 home which had no cellar and no yard was to 
 her false, transitory and unwholesome no mat 
 ter how lovely the walls might be. Air seemed 
 lacking and the free flow of electricity. It was 
 like staying in a hotel. 
 
 Mason turned to her after a little talk with 
 Etta. 
 
 "And so you have joined the stream of for 
 tune-seekers setting always to the city. Do you 
 
 233
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 feel yourself to be a part of a predestinated 
 movement?" 
 
 "I did not when I started I do now." 
 
 " That 's right. This is the Napoleon of 
 cities. A city of colossal vices and colossal vir 
 tues. It is now devouring, one day it will be 
 gin to send back its best arterial blood into the 
 nation. My metaphor is a bit questionable but 
 that is due to my two minds concerning this 
 salad I alternately curse and bow down in 
 wonder before this city. Its future is appalling 
 to think of. In 1920 it will be the mightiest 
 center of the English speaking race thank 
 you, I '11 not take any more dressing I envy 
 you young people who come now when the 
 worst of the fight against material greed is 
 nearly over. We who have given twenty years 
 of our lives I beg your pardon. I don't 
 know why I should moralize for your benefit 
 I meant to say I hope you have not come to 
 Chicago to make your living." 
 
 " Why yes I hope to but my father gives 
 me a little to live on till I find something to 
 do." 
 
 " That 's good. Then sit down and watch 
 the city. It does n't matter how humble your 
 living place sit above the city's tumult. Ob 
 serve it, laugh at it but do n't fight it do n't 
 mix in the grind. Keep it in your brain, don't 
 let it get into your blood." 
 
 234
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 Rose looked at him in wonder, his voice was 
 so quiet and his words so vibrant with meaning. 
 
 " I never felt so drawn to a woman in my 
 life," Isabel said to her betrothed. " I do n't 
 pretend to understand it. I just love her this 
 minute." 
 
 "With due qualifications I can agree with 
 you, my dear. She is very promising indeed." 
 
 " She has the power that compels. I wish 
 she'd get hold of Mason." Isabel smiled wisely: 
 " You see Mason is really listening to her now, 
 and poor Etta is left alone. I wish Professor 
 Roberts were here. He 's such good fun for her. 
 Before the evening's out every man in the house 
 will be around that Wisconsin girl, and I do n't 
 blame 'em a bit." 
 
 A little later the maid announced Professor 
 Roberts. 
 
 " Ah ! bring him right in, Mary!" 
 
 A cheery voice was heard in the hall-way. 
 
 " Do n't rise, I '11 find a place somewhere. I 
 am delinquent I know ; what 's this a roast ?" 
 
 "Now do n't you pretend to be starving just 
 to please me; this Sunday evening dinner was 
 given for me especially," said Sanborn. 
 
 " Hungry ? Of course I 'm hungry. I 've 
 come all the way from Fifty-second street." 
 
 Professor Roberts was a middle-aged man, 
 with a chin whisker. He had a small, elegant 
 figure, and his eyes were humorous. 
 
 235
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Everybody took on new life the moment he 
 came in. 
 
 " The fact is I got bridged," he explained, 
 after being introduced to Rose. 
 
 "All from living on the south side," said 
 Paul. 
 
 " I know I know! However, somebody must 
 live on the south side, and so I stay to keep up 
 the general average." 
 
 " How modest and kind of you!" 
 
 " Professor belongs to the University settle 
 ment down near the Indiana line," explained 
 Paul to Rose. 
 
 " Anybody 'd think, to hear you north siders 
 talk, that Fifty-second street was at the uttermost 
 parts of the earth." 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Well, we don't have weekly burglaries on 
 our side." 
 
 " We no longer sing ' Lily Dale ' and the 
 Sankey hymns up here." 
 
 All this banter was amusing to Rose. It 
 opened to her the inner social landmarks of the 
 city. She did n't know before that there was a 
 west side and a north side to the city. 
 
 Professor Roberts bubbled over with fun. He 
 was curiously like some of the men Rose had 
 known at Bluff Siding. His chin whiskers, his 
 mirthful eyes, and his hearty laughter were 
 familiar as a dandelion. What could he be 
 236
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 professor of, she thought and asked her 
 neighbor. 
 
 Paul told her. " He 's professor of geology 
 and paleontology, and knows, besides, a tre 
 mendous lot about bugs and animals. He made 
 a trip up into the Yukon country last year. He 
 was gone eighteen months, with no one but a 
 couple of Indian guides. He 's a big fellow, 
 for all he 's so jolly and everyday in his man 
 ners." 
 
 The talk that went on was a revelation to the 
 country girl. The three men addressed them 
 selves to Isabel, and every conceivable subject 
 received some sort of mention. Roberts joked 
 incessantly, and Dr. Sanborn held him a good 
 second, while Mason said the most enigmatical 
 things in his smooth, melodious bass. His face 
 lost its heavy look under the eyes, and his smile 
 was very attractive though he never laughed. 
 
 Rose sat with the other young people, ab 
 sorbed in the touch and go, brilliancy and fun 
 of the talk. It was wonderful to Rose that one 
 little woman could sit so masterful and at ease 
 before three such keen conversationalists as these 
 men seemed to her. 
 
 After dinner they took on a quieter tone. 
 Mason asked the privilege of ruminating over 
 his coffee and cigar. 
 
 " Ruminate, yes ; but do n't make it an ex 
 cuse for going to sleep," said Isabel. "You 
 
 237
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 must wake up at any rate and tell us a story be 
 fore the evening is over." 
 
 She got Roberts started on his recent trip to 
 see the Indian snake dance at Walpi, and they 
 listened breathlessly till he rounded up safely 
 half-an-hour later. Then Dr. Sanborn was 
 called upon. 
 
 "Come, Doctor, we must have your song!" 
 
 " His song ! " exclaimed Roberts. 
 
 " One song ? " asked Mason. 
 
 " One song alone is all he knows, and the 
 only way he acquired that was by damnable iter 
 ation. It was a cheerful lay sung by his nurse 
 in the hospital during a spell of brain fever," ex 
 plained Isabel. 
 
 "Is this thing unavoidable ?" asked Mason 
 in illy concealed apprehension. 
 
 "Thus we earn our dinner," replied Roberts. 
 "To what length this love of food will carry a 
 man!" 
 
 "Well, let's have the agony over at once." 
 
 The Doctor lifted his tall frame to the 
 perpendicular as if pulled by a string, and, 
 marching to the piano, waited for Etta to play 
 the chords. His face was expressionless, but his 
 eyes laughed. 
 
 His voice shook the floor with the doleful 
 cadences of a distressing ballad about a man 
 who murdered his wife because she was "un- 
 trew," and was afterwards haunted by a " figger 
 
 238
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 in white with pityous eyes and cries." He 
 eventually died of remorse and the ballad ended 
 by warning all men to refrain from hasty judg 
 ments upon their wives. 
 
 "Amen ! So say we all !" Professor Roberts 
 heartily agreed. A lively discussion was pre 
 cipitated by Mason, who said "the man must be 
 judged by the facts before him at the time the 
 deed was done, not afterwards. I 've no doubt 
 there are wives whose murder would be justifi 
 able homicide." 
 
 Isabel interrupted it at last by saying : 
 " That will do, that is quite enough. You are 
 on the road to vituperation." 
 
 " Miss Dutcher, you will sing for us, won't 
 you ? " 
 
 " O,I don't sing." Rose turned upon her in 
 terror. 
 
 "Really and truly?" 
 
 " Really and truly." 
 
 " Then you play ? " 
 
 " I have no accomplishments at all. All the 
 music I can make is a whistle and a jewsharp, I 
 assure you." 
 
 This set Roberts off. " Ah 1 La Belle Sif- 
 flcuse ! we will hear you whistle. Dr. Sanborn, 
 Miss Dutcher can whistle." 
 
 Rose shrank back. " O, I can *t whistle before 
 company ; I learned on the farm, I was alone so 
 much."
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 They fell upon her in entreaties, and at last 
 she half promised. 
 
 " If you won't look at me " 
 
 " Turn down the gas ! " shouted Roberts. 
 
 They made the room dim. There was a 
 little silence, and then into the room crept a 
 keen little sweet piping sound. It broadened 
 out into a clear fluting and entered upon an old 
 dance tune. As she went on she put more and 
 more go into it, till Roberts burst out with a 
 long-drawn nasal cry, " Sash-ay all ! " and Rose 
 broke down into a laugh. Everybody shouted 
 " Bravo ! " 
 
 Roberts exulted. " O, but I 'd like to see an 
 old-fashioned country dance again. Give us 
 another old-fashioned tune." 
 
 " I do n't know that I do them right," said 
 Rose. "I hear the fiddlers playing them." 
 
 " More ! more ! " cried Roberts. " I like 
 those old things. Mason here pretends not to 
 know them, but he 's danced them many a time." 
 
 Rose whistled more of the old tunes. " Haste 
 to the Wedding," "Honest John," "Polly 
 Perkins," and at last reached some fantastic 
 furious tunes, which she had caught from the 
 Norwegian fiddlers. 
 
 Then she stopped and they turned up the 
 light. She looked a little ashamed of her per 
 formance, and Isabel seemed to understand it, so 
 she said : 
 
 240
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 " Now that is only fooling, and I 'm going to 
 ask Miss Butcher to read some of her verses to 
 us. Dr. Thatcher writes me that she does verses 
 excellently well." This sobered the company 
 at once, as it well might, and Rose was in 
 despair. 
 
 " O no, do n't ask me to do that, please." 
 
 "This is your chance, rise to it," insisted 
 Isabel. 
 
 " If you will I '11 sing my song again for 
 you," Sanborn said. 
 
 At last Rose gave up resistance. Her heart 
 beat so terribly hard she felt smothered, but she 
 recited a blank verse poem. It was an echo of 
 Tennyson, of course, not exactly " Enoch Arden," 
 but reminiscent of it, but the not too critical 
 taste of Dr. Sanborn and Prof. Roberts accepted 
 it with applause. 
 
 Mason stole a sly look at Isabel, who did 
 not give up. She asked for one more and Rose 
 read a second selection, a spasmodic, equally 
 artificial graft, a supposedly deeply emotional 
 lyric, an echo of Mrs. Browning, with a third 
 line which went plumping to the deeps of pas 
 sion after a rhyme. It had power in it, and a 
 sort of sincerity in the reading which carried 
 even Isabel away besides that, her magnificent 
 figure was a poem in itself. 
 
 "What a voice you have!" she said as she 
 
 241
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 seized her by the hands. " You read beautifully 
 and you write well, too." 
 
 Rose noticed that Mr. Mason, the large man, 
 said nothing at all. In the midst of the talk the 
 maid approached Isabel. 
 
 " Some one has called for Miss Butcher." 
 Every one shook hands with her cordially; they 
 received her as an equal, that was evident. 
 
 Isabel went in with Rose to help her put on 
 her things. 
 
 " My dear, you 've pleased them all and I 've 
 just fallen in love with you. I 'm going to have 
 you at the Woman's Club. You must come and 
 see me. Come often, won't you?" 
 
 " I shall be glad to," Rose said simply, but 
 her face was flushed and her eyes shining with joy. 
 
 Owen was outside in the hall alone. 
 
 " Did n't Mary come too? " 
 
 " No, she concluded it would look awkward 
 if she came and stood outside the door." 
 
 They walked along side by side. Taylor 
 considered it an affectation to offer a strong 
 young woman his arm, except at critical passages 
 of the street. 
 
 " Did you have a good time?" 
 
 "O splendid 1" she said, the joy of her social 
 success upon her. " It was lovely 1 I never met 
 such fine people. Everything was so full of fun 
 and they were intellectual, too. Dr. Herrick is 
 wonderful! Mr. Mason, too." 
 242
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 "What Mr. Mason?" 
 
 " Warren Mason, I think they call him." 
 
 " Is that so? Warren Mason is considered 
 one of the finest newspaper men in the city. All 
 the fellows look up to him." 
 
 "I'm glad I met him. O, now I see! Dr. 
 Herrick invited him there to hear me read. I 
 made a failure, I 'm afraid." 
 
 She thought so more and more as the rose 
 color of her little triumph grew gray. She 
 ended by tossing to and fro on her bed, 
 raging to think how foolishly she had acted. 
 The long poem was bad, she saw it now. It was 
 involved and twisted and dull. She saw Mason's 
 face darken again, and it seemed now it wore a 
 look of disgust. 
 
 And the whistling! Good heavens, was there 
 no limit to her folly, her childishness? 
 
 So she writhed and groaned, her hopes all 
 pathetically trampled and dust-covered now. 
 Everybody would hear of her idiocy. She had 
 been so determined to do something worth 
 while, and she had read her worst lines, and 
 whistled whistled like a cow-boy. 
 
 The houses of the Lake Shore seemed like 
 impenetrable castles in the deep of her despair, 
 and Mason's words about the city grew each 
 moment deeper in meaning. 
 
 ***** 
 
 243
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 After Rose left, Dr. Herrick came back into 
 the room radiant. 
 
 "There, what do you think of her ? Am I 
 crazy or not ? I claim to have discovered a 
 genius." 
 
 " My dear, seems to me Thatcher has a prior 
 claim." 
 
 " Well, anyhow, she ts a genius. Do n't you 
 think so, Warren ?" 
 
 "She can whistle." 
 
 " O, do n't be so enigmatical, it is out of place. 
 She 's got power. You can 't deny that." 
 
 "Time enough to say what she can do when 
 she finds out what polly-rot she is writing now. 
 The whistling interested me," he added, malev 
 olently. 
 
 Isabel's face darkened a little. 
 
 "I understand, this is one of your prank 
 nights. But I shall not allow it to affect me. 
 You cannot sneer down that beautiful girl." 
 
 "I'm not sneering her down. I am merely 
 indicating where she needs help. She is a 
 glorious creature physically and she 's keen 
 mentally morally, no doubt, she 's well in 
 structed after the manner of country girls but 
 esthetically she 's in a sorrowful way. Taste is 
 our weak point in America, and in the rural 
 regions well, there is n't any taste above that 
 for shortcake, dollar chromos and the New York 
 Repository" 
 
 244
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 "He's started, he's off!" said Roberts. "Now, 
 I like the girl's verses ; they are full of dignity 
 and fervor, it seems to me." 
 
 " Full of fever, you mean. You specialists in 
 nerve diseases and spotted bugs would n't know 
 a crass imitation of Tennyson if you had it in a 
 glass vial. It 's such poor creatures as you who 
 keep these young writers imitating successes. 
 The girl has a fine roll of voice and a splendid 
 curve of bust, and that made the stuff she read, 
 poetry to impressionable persons." 
 
 " Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! " chorused the young people. 
 "Roberts, you are a sensualist," Sanborn inter 
 posed gravely. 
 
 Mason imperturbably proceeded. 
 
 "The girl has power of some sort. I rather 
 suspect it to be dramatic, but that 's mimetic 
 and of a low order, anyway. Her primary dis 
 tinction, with me, consists in something quite 
 other than these. The girl has character, and 
 that 's saying a good deal about a woman, espe 
 cially a girl. She has departed widely from the 
 conventional type without losing essential 
 womanliness." 
 
 "Ah, now we are coming at it ! " they all 
 exclaimed, as they drew around him, with exag 
 gerated expressions of interest. 
 
 "The girl is darkly individual, and very 
 attractive because of it; but you make of her a 
 social success, as I can see Isabel is planning to 
 
 245
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 do, and get her to wearing low-necked dresses 
 and impoverishing her people, and you '11 take 
 all the charm out of her." 
 
 " I do n't believe it!" said Isabel. 
 
 "It hasn't hurt Dr. Herrick," put in Roberts. 
 "I must say I'd like to see the girl in a low- 
 necked dress " he waved his hand to hold them 
 in check. "Now, hold on! I know that sounds 
 bad, but I mean it all right." 
 
 " Oh, no doubt ! " They laughed at his 
 embarrassment. 
 
 Mason interposed. " Roberts' long stay 
 among the Wallapi and Tlinkit wigwams has 
 perverted his naturally moral nature." 
 
 Roberts shook his hands in deprecation, but 
 made no further protest. 
 
 Sanborn said : " It 's a serious thing to advise 
 a girl like that. What do you intend to do, 
 Isabel ? Is a social success the thing the girl 
 needs ? " 
 
 "It won't do her any harm to meet nice 
 people of course, she ought not to go out too 
 much if she 's going to write." 
 
 "You amuse me," Mason began again, in his 
 measured way. " First because you assume that 
 the girl can go where she pleases " 
 
 " She can, too, if she 's got the quality we 
 think she has. Chicago society is n't the New 
 York four hundred. We 're all workers here." 
 
 " Workers and thieves," Mason went on ; 
 246
 
 HER FIRST DINNER OUT 
 
 " but if the girl has the quality I think she has, 
 she will map out her own career and follow it 
 irresistibly. The question that interests me is 
 this how did the girl get here ? Why did n't 
 she stay on the farm like Susan, and Sally, and 
 Ed and Joe ? How did she get through college 
 without marrying Harry or Tommy ? These are 
 the vital questions." 
 
 " I do n't know," replied Isabel. " I thought 
 of those things, but of course I could n't ask 
 her on first acquaintance." 
 
 Mason lifted his eye-brows. " Ah ! You 
 drew the line at love and marriage. Most 
 women " 
 
 Isabel resented this. 
 
 "I'm not 'most women' I'm not even a 
 type. Do n't lecture me, please." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Isabel ; you 're quite 
 right." His tone was sincere, and restored peace. 
 " I always except you in any generalization." 
 
 " This is the most significant thing of all," 
 Isabel said finally. " The girl has set us talking 
 of her as if she were a personage, instead of a 
 girl from a Wisconsin valley " 
 
 " That 's true," Mason admitted. " She 's of 
 
 *the countless unknown hundreds of the brightest 
 
 minds from the country, streaming into the city 
 
 side by side with the most vicious and licentious 
 
 loafers of the towns. It leaves the country dull, 
 
 but moral. The end is not yet. In the end the 
 
 247
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 dull and moral people survey the ruined walls of 
 the bright and vicious." 
 
 "And the dull and the moral are prolific," 
 Sanborn put in. 
 
 " Precisely, and they can eat and sleep, which 
 gives them long life and vast stomachs." 
 
 Roberts sprang up, " I propose to escape 
 while I can. Mason is wound up for all night." 
 There was a little bustle of parting, and even 
 tually Sanborn and Mason walked off together. 
 
 " It 's no time to go to sleep. Come to my 
 room and smoke a pipe," suggested Mason. 
 " I 'm in a mood to talk if you 're in a mood to 
 listen." 
 
 Sanborn was a modest fellow, who admired 
 his friend. " I am always ready to listen to 
 you," he said. 
 
 " Probably that is your amiable weakness," 
 Mason dryly responded. 
 
 248
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MASON TALKS ON MARRIAGE 
 
 Men are not easily intimate. They confide 
 in each other rather seldom. Of love and mar 
 riage coarse men speak with sneers and obscene 
 jests. Of these deep themes serious men speak 
 in hints, with apologetic smiles, as if they were 
 betraying a weakness, seldom going to any 
 length of statement. They express their mean 
 ing in broken sentences in indirect statements. 
 
 Sanborn had known Mason for some years. 
 They were both from the country ; Mason from 
 a small interior town in Illinois, Sanborn from 
 Indiana. Mason was an older man than San 
 born, and generally presumed upon it, also upon 
 Sanborn's reticence. 
 
 They rode up the elevator in the Berkeley 
 flats in silence, and in silence they removed their 
 coats and filled their pipes, and took seats before 
 the fire. Mason was accustomed to say he sup 
 ported two rooms and an open grate fire, and he 
 regretted it was not cold enough to have the 
 grate lighted for that evening. 
 
 They sat some minutes in smoke. Mason 
 249
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 sitting low in his chair, with face in repose, 
 looked old and tired, and Sanborn was moved 
 to say: 
 
 " Mason, I 'm going to ask you a plump 
 question: Why do n't you get married? You're 
 getting old. " 
 
 " I 've tried to." 
 
 "What! tried to?" 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 "That is incredible!" 
 
 "It is the fact," replied the older man, 
 placidly. 
 
 Sanborn did not believe it. He knew Mason 
 to be somewhat seclusive in his life, but he also 
 knew the high place he held in the eyes of sev 
 eral women. 
 
 Mason went on finally, in his best manner, 
 as Sanborn called it. 
 
 " For ten years I 've been trying to marry, 
 and I 've been conscientious and thorough in my 
 heart, too." 
 
 Sanborn was violently interested. He drew 
 a long breath of smoke. 
 
 "What seems to be the matter ? " 
 
 " Do n't hurry me. For one thing, I suppose 
 I 've gone too far in my knowledge of women. 
 I 've gone beyond the capability of being bam 
 boozled. I see too much of the ropes and props 
 .that do sustain the pasteboard rosetree." 
 
 "That is flat blasphemy," put in Sanborn. 
 250
 
 MASON TALKS ON MARRIAGE 
 
 " I know more about women than you do, 
 and " 
 
 " I do n't mean to say that women deceive in 
 a base way often they are not intentionally de 
 ceptive; but hereditarily-transmitted, necessarily 
 defensive wiles lead them to turn their best side 
 toward men. Before I was thirty I could still 
 call upon a young woman without observing she 
 received me in a room shadowed to conceal her 
 crows-feet. The pre-arranged position of the 
 chairs and color of the lamp-shade did not 
 trouble me." 
 
 He seemed to pause over some specific case. 
 "And once I believed a girl wore a patch on her 
 chin to conceal a sore. Now I know she does it 
 to locate a dimple. I know perfectly well what 
 any young woman would do if I called upon her 
 to-morrow. She would take a seat so that the 
 softest shadows would fall over her face. If she 
 had good teeth she would smile often. If her 
 teeth were poor she would be grave. If her arms 
 were fair her sleeves would be loose, if they were 
 thin she 'd wear ruffles. If she had a fine bosom 
 her dress would be open a little at the neck " 
 
 " O look here, Mason ! " Sanborn interrupted, 
 "I can't listen to such calumny without pro 
 test." 
 
 " I do n't mean to say that all this would be 
 conscious. As a matter of fact it is innocent 
 and unintentional. A woman does not delib- 
 
 251
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 erately say : ' I have a dimple, therefore I will 
 smile.' She inherited the dimples and the smile 
 from a long line of coquettes. Women are 
 painfully alike from generation to generation. 
 It's all moonshine and misty sky about their 
 infinite variety." 
 
 "Suppose I grant that who's to blame? 
 mind you I don't grant it but suppose I do, 
 for argument." 
 
 " You are a lover and a fortunate man. You 
 have in Isabel a woman of character. Mark you ! 
 These wiles and seductions on the part of wo 
 men were forced upon them. I admit that they 
 have been forced to use them in defense for a 
 million years. Had they been our physical su 
 periors unquestionably the lying graces would 
 have been ours. At the same time it doesn't 
 help me. I can 't trust such past-masters in deceit, 
 albeit they deceive me to my good." 
 
 "Are we not deceptive also ? It seems to me 
 the same indictment would hold regarding 
 men." 
 
 "Undoubtedly but we are not now under 
 indictment. You asked me a question I am 
 answering it." This silenced Sanborn effect 
 ually. Mason refilled his pipe and then re 
 sumed : 
 
 "Again, I can 't seem to retain a vital interest 
 in any given case that is to say, an exclusive 
 interest." 
 
 252
 
 MASON TALKS ON MARRIAGE 
 
 "That is a relic of polygamy," Sanborn said. 
 " I imagine we all have moments when we feel 
 that old instinct tumbling around in our blood." 
 
 " I meet a woman to-day who seems to pos 
 sess that glamour which the romantic poets and 
 high-falutin novelists tell us the woman of our 
 choice must have. I go home exulting at last 
 I am to reach the mystic happiness marriage is 
 supposed to bring. But to-morrow I meet her 
 and the glamour is faded. I go again and again, 
 every spark of electric aureole vanishes ; we get 
 to be good friends, maybe nothing more." 
 
 " Perhaps a friendship like that is the best 
 plane for a marriage. Isabel and I have never 
 pretended to any school-boy or school-girl sen 
 timent." 
 
 Mason replied in such wise Sanborn did not 
 know whether to think him bitterly in earnest 
 or only lightly derisive. 
 
 " That would overturn all the sentiment and 
 love-lore of a thousand years. It would make 
 every poet from Sappho down to Swinburne a 
 pretender or a madman. Such ideas are su 
 preme treason to all the inspired idiots of poetry. 
 No ! glamour we must have." 
 
 Sanborn smiled broadly, but Mason did not 
 see him. 
 
 " So I say, marry young or marry on the im 
 pulse, or you '11 come at last to my condition, 
 when no head wears an aureole." 
 
 253
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " I wonder what started you off on this trail, 
 Mason?" 
 
 Mason pushed on resolutely : 
 
 " I have become interested and analytical in 
 the matter. I follow up each case and catalogue 
 it away. This failure due to a distressing giggle ; 
 that to an empty skull; this to a bad com 
 plexion ; that to a too ready sentiment. If I 
 could marry while the glamour lasts ! I admit I 
 have met many women whose first appeal filled 
 me with hope ; if I might contrive to marry then 
 it might be done once for all. That, of course, 
 is impossible, because no woman, I am forced to 
 admit, would discover any seductive glamour in a 
 taffy-colored blond like me. My glamour comes 
 out upon intimate acquaintance." 
 
 " Perhaps the glamour needed could be devel 
 oped on closer acquaintance with women who 
 seem plain at first sight." 
 
 " Possibly ! But I can 't go about developing 
 glamour in strange, plain women. They might 
 not understand my motives." 
 
 Sanborn laughed dismally. 
 
 " Then the case seems to me hopeless." 
 
 " Precisely. The case seems hopeless. After 
 ten years careful study of the matter I have come 
 to the conclusion that I was born to something 
 besides matrimony. Cases of glamour get less 
 and less common now, and I foresee the time 
 
 254
 
 MASON TALKS ON MARRIAGE 
 
 when the most beautiful creature in the world 
 will possess no glamour." 
 
 Sanborn imaginatively entered into this 
 gloomy mood. " Nothing will then remain but 
 death." 
 
 " Exactly ! Peaceful old age and decay. But 
 there are deeper deeps to this marriage question, 
 as I warn you now on the eve of your venture. 
 I find in myself a growing inability to conceive 
 of one woman in the light of an exclusive ideal, 
 an ideal of more interest than all the world of 
 women. I am troubled by the ' possible woman.' " 
 
 "I don't quite conceive " 
 
 " I mean the woman who might, quite possibly, 
 appeal to me in a more powerful and beautiful 
 way than the one I have. I am not prepared as 
 I approach the point to say I will love and 
 cherish till death. In the unknown deeps of life 
 there are other women, more alluring, more 
 beautiful still. So I must refuse to make a 
 promise which I am not sure I can keep." 
 
 " Isabel and I have agreed to leave that out 
 of our ceremony," said Sanborn; "also the 
 clause which demands obedience from her." 
 
 "I am watching you. If your experiment 
 succeeds, and I can find a woman as fine and 
 sensible and self-reliant but there again my 
 confounded altruism comes in. I think also of 
 the woman. Ought I to break into the orderly 
 
 255
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 progress of her life ? I can 't afford to throw 
 myself away, I can 't afford to place a barrier 
 between me and the ' possible woman,' and, per 
 contra, neither can the woman afford to make a 
 mistake; it bears harder upon women than it 
 does upon men. When the glorious 'possible 
 woman ' comes along I want to be free. So the 
 woman might reasonably want to be free when 
 the ideal man comes along." 
 
 " If you really love, these considerations would 
 not count." 
 
 Mason waved a silencing palm. 
 
 " That will do. I 've heard those wise words 
 before. I am ready to be submerged in such 
 excluding emotions." 
 
 " Mason," said Sanborn, " one of two things 
 I must believe : Either that you have fallen in 
 love with that superb country girl tonight or 
 you 've been giving me a chapter from your new 
 novel." 
 
 Mason looked around with a mystic gleam in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Well, which is it ? " 
 
 256
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 ROSE SITS IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 Life quickened for the coule" girl. She accom 
 modated herself to the pace of the daily papers 
 with instant facility. She studied the amusement 
 columns, and read the book reviews, and fre 
 quented the beautiful reading room of the New- 
 berry library. She went to all the matinees, tak 
 ing gallery tickets, of course, ever mindful of her 
 slender resources studying as truly, as intently, , 
 as if she were still at college. 
 
 She had told her father that three hundred 
 dollars would carry her through till June, and 
 she was determined it should do so. She had 
 not begun to think of any work to do beyond her 
 writing. Her mind was still in unrest here 
 life's problem was seemingly more difficult of 
 solution than ever. 
 
 She took hold upon the city with the powes 
 of a fresh mind capable of enormous feeling and 
 digesting. She seemed to be in the world at 
 last, plunged in it, enveloped by it, and she came 
 to delight in the roar and tumult of it all, as if 
 it were the sound of winds and waters; and each 
 
 257
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 day she entered upon a little wider circle of ad 
 venture. Once the first confusion was past, the 
 movement and faces of the crowds were of endless 
 interest to her. She walked down into the city 
 every day, returning to her little nook in the 
 noisy flat building, as the young eagle to its eerie 
 above the lashing tree-tops. She was sitting above 
 the tumult, as Mr. Mason had advised her to do. 
 She came soon to know that the west side of 
 State street was tabooed by wealthy shoppers, 
 who bought only on the east side ; that Wabash 
 avenue was yet more select, and that no one who 
 owned a carriage ever traded in the bargain 
 stores. She did all her shopping there because 
 I it was cheaper, but deep in her heart she felt no 
 kinship with the cross, hurrying, pushing, per- 
 I spiring crowds in the bargain stores. Her place was 
 I among the graceful, leisurely, beautifully attired 
 f *groups of people on the east side of State street. 
 i She was not troubled at this stage of her develop- 
 I ment by any idea of being faithful to the people 
 I of her own material condition and origin. She 
 had always loved the graces and cleanlinesses of 
 life, and her father, she knew to be a man of 
 Innate refinement. The idea of caste, of arbitrary 
 classes of people, had only come to her newly or 
 tbscurely through newspapers or novels. She 
 did not like dirty people, nor surly people, nor 
 .'boorish people. In fact, she did not class people 
 ,at all; they were individuals with her yet. She 
 
 258
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 #vas allured by the conditions of life on the Lake 
 hore Drive because the people lived such quiet, 
 *clean and joyous lives apparently, with time to 
 think and be kind. 
 
 She met few people outside of the little circle 
 at the boarding house, and an occasional visiting 
 friend of Miss Fletcher or Mr. Taylor. Owen 
 she saw much of, and he pleased her greatly. 
 He was a man she could have married under 
 some circumstances. He had means aplenty; 
 he was an unusual character, clean-souled, almost 
 elemental in his simple sincerity, but she consid 
 ered him committed to Mary, and, besides, Mason 
 had become a deterring cause, though she hardly 
 realized that. 
 
 Through all the days which followed that even 
 ing at Dr. Herrick's she saw his face with grow 
 ing distinctness. It was not a genial face, but 
 it was one to remember, a face of power. The 
 line of the lips, the half-averted chin, marked 
 Mason's attitude to be one of disgust or weari 
 ness. He was the most powerful man she had 
 ever known, a man of critical insight, and for 
 that reason especially she had sought in her last 
 reading to please him. She had failed, and so 
 she was afraid to see him again. When Isabel 
 said to her : 
 
 " Mason is a man you should know. He can 
 do a great deal for you in the city," Rose re 
 plied in her blunt fashion: 
 
 259
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "I don't want him to do anything for me." 
 
 " O yes, you do! He 's really a kind-hearted 
 man. He puts on a manner which scares peo 
 ple sometimes, but he 's a man of the highest 
 character. He 's the greatest thinker I ever 
 met O I 'm not disloyal to Dr. Sanborn, he 's 
 the best man I ever met." There was a story in 
 that tender inflection. " So you must let me 
 send in something to Warren, and let him ad 
 vise you." 
 
 Rose finally consented, but it seemed to 
 her like laying an only child upon the rack. 
 She had come almost to fear, certainly to dread, 
 that strange, imperturbable man. His abiding- 
 place and his office were alike so far removed 
 from any manner of living she had knowledge 
 of. He concealed his own likes and dislikes so 
 effectually that not even Isabel (as she con 
 fessed) could learn them. 
 
 A few days after putting her packet of poems 
 into Isabel's hands Rose received a note from 
 her asking her to come over and see her that 
 she had an invitation for her. 
 
 "We are invited, you and Dr. Sanborn and 
 I, to sit in a box at the symphony concert Sat- 
 .urday night, with Mr. and Mrs. Harvey. Mrs. 
 Harvey is one of my dearest friends, and I 've 
 stalked about you so much she is eager to see 
 
 Rose took the matter very quietly. She was 
 260
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 mightily pleased, but she was not accustomed 
 to gushing her thanks; besides, she had re 
 covered her equilibrium. 
 
 Isabel was a little surprised at her coolness, 
 but was keen enough to see that she did not 
 mean to be ungrateful. 
 
 "I thought perhaps you'd like to advise 
 about dress," she said. "The boxes are very 
 brilliant, but you '11 look well in anything. 
 You won't need a bonnet, your hair is so pretty, 
 and that little grey dress will do, with a little 
 change." 
 
 "You know I 'm a farmer's daughter," Rose 
 explained; " I can 't afford new dresses in order 
 to go to the opera." 
 
 "I understand, my dear. I have my own 
 limitations in that way. I keep one or two 
 nice gowns and the rest of the time I wear 
 a uniform. I told Mrs. Harvey you were poor 
 like myself, and that we 'd need to be the 
 background for her, and she said she 'd trust 
 me." 
 
 What Mrs. Harvey had said was this: "My 
 dear Isabel, you 've got judgment, and if you 
 say the girl 's worth knowing I want to know 
 her. And if you say the girl will be present 
 able I 'd like to have her come. The boys are 
 both in New York, anyway, and we 've got three 
 unoccupied seats." 
 
 " Now you come over to dinner with me Sat- 
 261
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 urday ; come at five. I want you to help me 
 dress. Doctor will be over, and we '11 have a 
 nice time before the carriage comes." 
 
 Rose was much more elated than she cared to 
 show. Once as she sat in the gallery of the the 
 atre and looked at the boxes she had shut her 
 teeth in a vow : " I '11 sit there where you do, 
 one of these days ! " and now it had come in a 
 few weeks instead of years like a fairy gift. 
 She told Mary nothing about her invitation for 
 several days. She dreaded her outcry, which 
 was inescapable. 
 
 " Oh ! isn't that fine ! How you do get ahead 
 - what will you wear?" 
 
 " I have n't a bewildering choice," Rose said. 
 " I thought I 'd wear my grey dress." 
 
 " Oh, this is a wonderful chance for you ! 
 Can 't you afford a new dress?" 
 
 " No, I 'm afraid not. There is n't time now, 
 anyway. I '11 keep close to the wall. Fortu 
 nately I have a new cloak that will do." 
 
 "Well, that grey dress is lovely when it's 
 on you." 
 
 Rose hated the bother about the dress. 
 
 " I wish I could wear a dress suit like a 
 man," she said to Isabel when they were in the 
 midst of the final stress of it. 
 
 " So do I, but we can 't. There 's a law 
 against it, I believe. Now I 'm going to dress 
 your hair for you. That is, I 'm going to super- 
 262
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 intend it and Etta's deft little fingers shall do the 
 work." 
 
 After dinner, Isabel ordered things cleared 
 and said to Sanborn : 
 
 " Doctor, you go and smoke while we put on 
 our frills." 
 
 Sanborn acquiesced readily enough. 
 
 "Very well if you find me gone when you 
 come forth, do n't worry. I 've gone ahead with 
 my friend Yerkes. Your carriage will be full 
 anyhow." 
 
 " All right." She went over and gave him a 
 hug. "You're a good, obedient boy that's 
 what you are!" 
 
 He spoke (with his chin over her wrist) ad 
 dressing Rose : 
 
 "The study of chemicals and nerve tissues 
 has not left us utterly desolate, you perceive." 
 
 When they were in their dressing room, Rose 
 asked what the Doctor meant by that speech. 
 
 Isabel laughed and colored a little : 
 
 " Oh, he meant that a study of bones and 
 muscles and diseased bodies had not made us 
 prosaic and and old. I think it has made me 
 still more in love with healthy human flesh 
 but never mind that now; we must hurry." 
 
 Rose looked at Isabel in silent worship as 
 she stood before her ready for the carriage. 
 Her, ordinarily, cold little face glowed with 
 color, and her eyes were full of mirthful gleams 
 
 263
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 like a child's. It seemed impossible that she 
 had written a treatise on " Nervous Diseases," 
 and was ranked among the best alienists in the 
 city. 
 
 Etta made no secret of her adoration. She 
 fairly bowed down before her sister and before 
 Rose also. She was so little and so common 
 place before these beings of light. 
 
 Down at the carriage it was too dark to see 
 any one distinctly, but Rose liked the cordial, 
 hearty voice of Mrs. Harvey. Mr. Harvey's 
 hand was small and firm, Mrs. Harvey's plump 
 and warm. Mr. Harvey spoke only once or 
 twice during the ride. 
 
 As the carriage rumbled and rolled southward 
 at a swift pace, Rose kept watch out of the win 
 dow. The street had not lost a particle of its 
 power over her. 
 
 As they plunged deeper into the city, and the 
 roll of other carriages thickened around them, 
 the importance of this event grew upon Rose. 
 She was bewildered when they alighted, but 
 concealed it by impassivity, as usual. The car 
 riages stood in long rows waiting to unload. 
 Others were rolling swiftly away ; doors slammed ; 
 voices called, "All right!" A mighty stream of 
 people was entering the vast arched entrance, 
 with rustle of garments and low murmur of 
 laughing comment. Rose caught the flash of 
 beautiful eyes and the elusive gleam of jewels on 
 264
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 every side, as the ladies bowed to their acquaint 
 ances. 
 
 Everything was massive, and spacious and 
 enduring. The entrance way was magnificent, 
 and Rose followed Mr. Harvey as if in a dream. 
 They took a mysterious short cut somewhere, 
 and came out into a narrow balcony, which was 
 divided into stalls. Through arched openings 
 Rose caught glimpses of the mighty hall, im 
 mense as a mountain cave, and radiant as a flower. 
 
 As they moved along, Mrs. Harvey turned to 
 Isabel. 
 
 " She '11 do; do n't worry!" 
 
 At their box Mr. Harvey paused and said, 
 with a pleasant smile : 
 
 " Here we are." 
 
 Dr. Sanborn met them, and there was a 
 bustle getting wraps laid away. 
 
 " You sit here, my dear," said Mrs. Harvey. 
 She was a plump, plain, pleasant-voiced person, 
 and put Rose at ease at once. She gave Rose 
 the outside seat, and before she realized it the 
 coul girl was seated in plain view of a thousand 
 people, under a soft but penetrating light. 
 
 She shrank like some nocturnal insect sud 
 denly brought into sunlight. She turned white, 
 and then the blood flamed to her face and neck. 
 She sprang up. 
 
 " O, Mrs. Harvey, I can 't sit here," she 
 gasped out. 
 
 265
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " You must! that is the place for you," said 
 Mrs. Harvey. " Do you suppose an old house 
 wife like me would occupy a front seat with such 
 a beauty in the background ? Not a bit of it ! 
 The public welfare demands that you sit there." 
 She smiled into the scared girl's face with kindly 
 humor. 
 
 Isabel leaned over and said ; " Sit there; 
 you 're magnificent." 
 
 Rose sank back into her seat, and stared 
 straight ahead. She felt as if something hot and 
 withering were blowing on that side of her face 
 which was exposed to the audience. She wished 
 she had not allowed the neck of her dress to be 
 widened an inch. She vowed never again to get 
 into such a trap. 
 
 Mr. Harvey talked to her from behind her 
 chair. He was very kindly and thoughtful, and 
 said just enough to let her feel his presence, and 
 not enough to weary her. 
 
 Gradually the beauty and grandeur of the 
 scene robbed her of her absurd self-conscious 
 ness. She did not need to be told that this was 
 the heart and brain of Chicago. This was the 
 Chicago she had dreamed about. A perfumed 
 rustling rose from below her. Around her the 
 boxes filled with women in gowns of pink and 
 rose and blue, and faint green. Human flowers 
 they were, dewed with diamonds. All about 
 was the movement of orderly, leisurely, happy- 
 266
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 toned and dignified men and women. All was 
 health, pleasure, sanity, kindliness. Wealth 
 here displayed its wondrous charm, its peace, 
 its poetry. 
 
 Her romantic conception of these people had 
 done them an injustice. She had clothed them 
 with the attributes of the men and women of 
 English society novels and New York imitations 
 of these novels. This Mr. Harvey did not know, 
 but he helped her to rectify her mistaken esti 
 mate of the people around her by saying : 
 
 " We business men can 't get out to the Fri 
 day rehearsals, but Saturday night finds us 
 ready to enjoy an evening of art." 
 
 He looked very handsome in his dress suit, 
 and his face was very pleasant to see, yet Isabel 
 had told her that not only was he a hard-work 
 ing business man, but a man of wide interests, 
 a great railway director, in fact. 
 
 " I suppose you know many of the people 
 here," she said at last. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he replied, " I know most of 
 them. Chicago is large, but some way we still 
 keep track of people here." 
 
 As he talked, she got courage to raise her 
 eyes to the roof, soaring far up above, glowing 
 with color. Balcony after balcony circled at the 
 back, and Rose thought with a little flush that 
 perhaps Owen and Mary were sitting up in one 
 of those balconies and could see her in the box. 
 267
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 The hall was buff and light-blue to her eyes, 
 and the procession of figures over the arch, the 
 immense stage, the ceiling, the lights, all were 
 of great beauty and interest. 
 
 But the people ! the beautiful dresses ! the 
 dainty bonnets ! the flow of perfumed drapery ! 
 the movement of strong, clean, supple limbs ! 
 these were the most glorious sights of all. She 
 had no room for envy in her heart. She was 
 very happy, for she seemed to have reached a 
 share in ultimate magnificence. 
 
 She longed for gowns and bonnets like these, 
 but there was no bitterness in her longing. 
 
 She herself was a beautiful picture as she sat 
 there. From her bust, proud and maternal, rose 
 her strong smooth neck, and young, graceful 
 reflective head. If the head had been thrown 
 back she would have seemed arrogant ; with that 
 reflective, forward droop, she produced upon the 
 gazer an effect both sweet and sad. In the proud 
 bust was prophecy of matronly beauty, and also 
 of the freshness of youth. 
 
 Mason, seated below among a group of mu 
 sical critics, looked at her with brooding eyes. 
 At that moment she seemed to be the woman he 
 had long sought. Certainly the glamour was 
 around her then. She sat above him and her 
 brown hair and rich coloring stood out from the 
 drapery like a painting. A chill came over him 
 as he thought of the letter he had sent to her 
 268
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 that very morning. It was brutal; he could see 
 it now. He might have put the criticism in 
 softer phrases. 
 
 Isabel leaned over and spoke to Rose and 
 then Rose began searching for him. He was 
 amazed to feel a thrill of excitement as he saw 
 that strong, dark face turned toward him; and 
 when his eyes met her's he started a little, as if a 
 ray of light had fallen suddenly upon him. She 
 colored a little, he thought, and bowed. Where 
 did the girl acquire that regal, indifferent incli 
 nation of the head ? It was like a princess 
 dropping a favor to a faithful subject, but it 
 pleased him. "The girl has imagination!" he 
 said. " She claims her own." 
 
 Then he meditated: "What an absurdity! 
 Why should I fix upon that girl, when here, all 
 about me are other women more beautiful, and 
 rich and accomplished, besides. That confounded 
 farmer's girl has a raft of stupid and vulgar rel 
 atives, no doubt, and her refinement is a mere 
 appearance." 
 
 He solaced himself with a general reflection. 
 
 "Furthermore, why should any man select 
 any woman, when they are all dots and dashes 
 in a web of human life, anyhow ? Their differ 
 ences are about like the imperceptible differences 
 of a flock of wrens. Why not go out and marry 
 the first one that offers, and so end it all ?" 
 
 The mystery of human genius came also to 
 269
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Rose as Mr. Harvey pointed out to her the city's 
 most noted men and women. They were mere 
 dabs of color sober color, for the most part 
 upon this flood of humankind. She was to 
 Mason, probably, only a neutral spot in the 
 glorious band of color, which swept in a grace 
 ful curve back from the footlights. It was won 
 derful, also, to think that these smiling men 
 were the millionaire directors of vast interests 
 they seemed without a care in the world. 
 
 At last the stage chairs were all filled by a 
 crowd of twanging, booming, sawing, squeaking 
 instrumentalists. Then the leader, a large man 
 of military erectness, came down to the leader's 
 desk and bowed, amidst thunderous applause. 
 Then rapping sharply on his desk he brought 
 orderly silence out of the tumult, and the con 
 cert began. 
 
 The music did not mean much to Rose dur 
 ing the first half-hour, for the splendor of the 
 whole spectacle dominated the appeal of the 
 instruments. Such music and such audiences 
 were possible only in the largest cities, and that 
 consideration moved her deeply. It seemed too 
 good to be true that she sat here securely, ready 
 to enjoy all that came. It had come to her, too, 
 almost without effort, almost without deserving, 
 she felt. 
 
 But there came at last a number on the pro 
 gramme which dimmed the splendor of the 
 270
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 spectacle. The voice of Wagner came to her for 
 the first time, and shook her and thrilled her and 
 lifted her into wonderful regions where the green 
 trees dripped golden moss, and the grasses were 
 jeweled in very truth. Wistful young voices 
 rose above the lazy lap of waves, sad with love 
 and burdened with beauty which destroyed. 
 Like a deep-purple cloud death came, slowly, 
 resistlessly, closing down on those who sang, 
 clasped in each other's arms. 
 
 They lay dead at last, and up through the 
 
 purple cloud their spirits soared like gold and 
 
 silver flame, woven together, and the harsh 
 
 thunder of the gray sea died to a sullen boom. 
 
 ******* 
 
 When she rose to her feet the girl from 
 the coul staggered, and the brilliant, moving, 
 murmuring house blurred into fluid color like a 
 wheel of roses. 
 
 The real world was gone, the world of imag 
 ined things lay all about her. She felt the 
 power to reach out her hand to take fame and 
 fortune. 
 
 In that one reeling instant the life of the 
 little coule", the lonely, gentle old father, and the 
 days of her youth all her past were pushed 
 into immeasurable distance. The pulling of 
 weeds in the corn, the driving of cattle to pas 
 ture were as the doings of ants in a dirt-heap. 
 
 A vast pity for herself sprang up in her brain. 
 271
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 She wanted to do some gigantic thing which 
 should enrich the human race. She felt the 
 power to do this, too, and there was a wonderful 
 look on her face as she turned to Isabel. She 
 seemed to be listening to some inner sound 
 throbbing away into silence, and then her com 
 prehension of things at hand came back to her, 
 and Isabel was speaking to her. 
 
 " Here 's Mr. Mason coming to speak to us," 
 interrupted Mr. Harvey. 
 
 She turned to watch him as he came along 
 the aisle behind the boxes; her head still 
 throbbed with the dying pulsations of the music. 
 Everybody seemed to know and greet him with 
 cordial readiness of hand. He came along 
 easily, his handsome blonde face showing little 
 more expression at meeting her than the others, 
 yet when he saw her rapt and flushed face he 
 was touched. 
 
 " I came to see how Miss Butcher was enjoy 
 ing the evening." 
 
 Rose felt a sudden disgust with her name; it 
 sounded vulgarly of the world of weeds and 
 cattle. 
 
 In some way she found herself a few mo 
 ments later walking out through the iron gate 
 into the throng of promenaders back of the seats. 
 It was the most splendid moment of her life. 
 She forgot her fear of Mason in the excitement 
 of the moment. She walked with hands 
 272
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 clenched tightly and head lifted. The look on 
 her face, and the burning color in her face made 
 scores of people turn to look at her. 
 
 Mason perceived but misinterpreted her ex 
 citement. He mistook her entire self-forgetful- 
 ness for a sort of vain personal exaltation or 
 rapture of social success. 
 
 She saw only dimly the mighty pillars, the 
 massive arches, lit by stars of flame. She felt 
 the carpet under her feet only as a grateful thing 
 which hushed the sound of feet. 
 
 They made one circuit with the promenaders, 
 Mason bowing right and left, and talking dis- 
 jointedly upon indifferent subjects. He felt the 
 tormenting interest of his friends in Rose, and 
 drew her out of the crowd. 
 
 " Let us stand here and see them go by," he 
 said. "You liked the music, did you?" 
 
 His commonplace question fell upon her like 
 the scream of a peacock amid songs of thrushes. 
 It showed her in a flash of reasoning of which 
 he could not know, that it was possible to be 
 ennuied with glorious harmonies. Her mind 
 asked, " Shall I, too, sometimes wish to talk 
 commonplaces in the midst of such glories?" 
 
 " O, it was beyond words!" she said. And 
 then Mason was silent for a little space. He 
 divined her mood at last, but he had something 
 to say which should be said before she returned 
 to her box. 
 
 273
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 He began at once: 
 
 " Let me say, Miss Dutcher, that while the 
 main criticism of your work, which I made in 
 my note this morning, must hold, still I feel the 
 phraseology could be much more amiable. The 
 fact is, I was irritated over other matters, and 
 that irritation undesignedly crept into my note 
 to you." 
 
 " I have n't received it," she said looking di 
 rectly at him for the first time. 
 
 " Well then, do n't read it. I will tell you 
 what I think you ought to do." 
 
 " O, do n't talk of it," she said, and her voice 
 was tense with feeling. " All I have written is 
 tonight trash! I can see that. It was all some 
 body else's thought. Do n't let 's talk of that 
 now." 
 
 He looked down at her face, luminous, quiver 
 ing with excitement and understood. 
 
 "I forgot," he said gently, "that this was 
 your first concert at the Auditorium. It is beau 
 tiful and splendid, even to an habitu like me. 
 I like to come here and forget that work or care 
 exists in the world. I shall enjoy it all the 
 more deeply now by reason of your enthusiasm." 
 
 In the wide space back of the seats a great 
 throng of young people were promenading to 
 the left, round and round the massive pillars, in 
 leisurely rustling swing, the men mainly in 
 dress suits, the ladies in soft luminous colors; 
 274
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 the heavy carpet beneath their feet gave out no 
 sound, and only the throb of laughter, the mur 
 mur of speech and the soft whisper of drapery 
 was to be heard. 
 
 It was all glorious beyond words, to the 
 imaginative girl. It flooded her with color, 
 beauty, youth, poetry, music. Every gleaming 
 neck or flashing eye, every lithe man's body, 
 every lover's deferential droop of head, every 
 woman's worshipful upturned glance, came to 
 her with power to arouse and transform. The 
 like of this she had not dreamed of seeing. 
 
 Nobody had told her of this Chicago. 
 Nobody could tell her of it, indeed, for no one 
 else saw it as she did. When Mason spoke 
 again his voice was very low and gentle. He 
 began to comprehend the soul of the girl. 
 
 " I 've no business to advise you. I 've come 
 to the conclusion that advice well followed is 
 ruinous. Genius seldom takes advice, and no 
 body else is worth advising. I took advice and 
 went into a newspaper office twenty years ago. 
 I 've been trying ever since to rectify my mis 
 take. I would be a literary if I were not forced 
 to be a newspaper man, just when my powers are 
 freshest. I want to write of today. I want to 
 deal with the city and its life, but I am forced to 
 advise people upon the tariff. I come home at 
 night worn out and the work I do then is only a 
 poor starveling. Now, see this audience tonight! 
 
 275
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 There are themes for you. See these lovers 
 walking before and behind us. He may be a 
 clerk in a bank ; she the banker's daughter. 
 That man Harvey, in whose box you sit tonight, 
 was a farmer's boy, and his wife the daughter of 
 a Methodist preacher in a cross-roads town. 
 How did they get where they are, rich, influen 
 tial, kindly, polished in manner ? What an 
 epic ! " 
 
 " Are you advising me now ? " she asked with 
 a smile. 
 
 Her penetration delighted him. 
 
 " Yes, I am saying now in another way the 
 things I wrote. I hope, Miss Dutcher, you will 
 burn that packet without reading. I would not 
 write it at all now." 
 
 They were facing each other a little out of 
 the stream of people. She looked into his face 
 with a bright smile, though her eyes were 
 timorous. 
 
 " Do you mean manuscript and all ? " 
 
 His face was kind, but he answered firmly: 
 
 " Yes, burn it all. Will you do it ? " 
 
 " If you mean it." 
 
 " I mean it. You 're too strong and young 
 and creative to imitate anybody. Burn it, and 
 all like it. Start anew tonight." 
 
 His voice compelled her to a swift resolution. 
 
 " I will do it." 
 
 He held out his hand with a sudden gesture, 
 276
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 and she took it. His eyes and the clasp of his 
 hand made her shudder and grow cold, with 
 some swift, ominous foreknowledge of distant 
 toil and sorrow and joy. 
 
 The lights were dimmed mysteriously, and 
 Mason said : 
 
 " They are ready to begin again; we had bet 
 ter return." 
 
 He led her back to the box, and Mrs. Harvey 
 flashed a significant look upon him, and said in 
 a theatrical aside: 
 
 "Aha ! at last." 
 
 Isabel said: 
 
 " Come and see us to-morrow at six a ' pow 
 wow.' " 
 
 The music which came after could not hold 
 Rose's attention. How could it, in the face of 
 the tremendous changes which were in progress 
 in her brain? What had she done? To an al 
 most perfect stranger she had promised to burn 
 all the work of her pen thus far. 
 
 And an hour before she had almost hated, 
 certainly she had feared, that man. While the 
 music throbbed and wailed and clashed, she sat 
 with blood throbbing in her ears and at her 
 throat, longing to cry out, to sing and to weep. 
 She had said little of late to any one, but she had 
 finally settled upon one ambition to write, to 
 be a great poetess. After vicissitudes and false 
 enthusiasm she had come back to the first great 
 277
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 ambition which she had confessed to Thatcher 
 years before, in the little coul school-house. 
 And now, at the bidding of a stranger, she had 
 made a promise to burn her work and start 
 again. 
 
 But had not the music and the splendid 
 spectacle before her almost determined her be 
 fore he had spoken ? 
 
 Then she came back to the wondrous gentle 
 ness which was in his voice, to the amazing 
 change in his eyes. The man who had held her 
 hand was not the worn, cynical man she had 
 feared. He was younger and handsomer, too. 
 She shuddered again, with some powerful emo 
 tion at the thought of his calm, compelling, 
 down-thrusting glance into her eyes. His mind 
 appeared to her to have a shoreless sweep. 
 
 The music rose to a pounding, blaring climax, 
 and the audience, applauding, began to rise to 
 go home, breaking into streams and pools and 
 whirling masses of color. 
 
 "Well, my dear, how have you enjoyed the 
 evening?" asked Mrs. Harvey, cordially. 
 
 " Very much, indeed. I never can thank you 
 enough." 
 
 "It has been a pleasure to feel your enthusi 
 asm. It makes us all young again. I 've 
 asked Dr. Herrick to bring you to see us; I hope 
 you will come." 
 
 The hearty clasp of her hand moved the 
 278
 
 IN THE BLAZE OF A THOUSAND EYES 
 
 motherless girl deeply, and her voice trembled 
 with emotion as she replied: 
 
 "It will be a great pleasure to me, Mrs. 
 Harvey." 
 
 Mrs. Harvey clutched her in her arms and 
 kissed her. 
 
 "You splendid girl! I wish you were mine," 
 she said, and thereafter Rose felt no fear in her 
 presence. 
 
 "I do n't care whether she 's a genius or 
 not," Mrs Harvey said to Isabel, as they walked 
 out to the carriage. " She 's a good girl, and I 
 like her, and I '11 help her. You figure out any 
 thing I can properly do and I '11 do it. I do n't 
 know another girl who could have carried off 
 that cheap little dress the way she did. She 
 made it look like a work of art. She 's a won 
 der! Think of her coming* from a Wisconsin 
 farm ! " 
 
 Isabel rejoiced. 
 
 " I knew you 'd like her." She leaned over 
 and said in a low voice: " I 'd like Elbert to 
 see her." 
 
 Mrs. Harvey turned a quick eye upon her. 
 
 " Well, if you are n't a matchmaker ! " 
 
 As they came out in the throng it seemed as 
 if everybody knew the Harveys and Isabel. 
 Out in the street the cabs had gathered, like 
 huge beetles, standing in patient rows in the 
 gaslight. 
 
 279
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 The bellowing of numbers, the slam of car 
 riage doors, the grind of wheels, the shouts of 
 drivers, made a pandemonium to Rose, but Mr. 
 Harvey, with the same gentle smile on his face, 
 presented his ticket to the gigantic negro, who 
 roared enormously : 
 
 " Ninety-two ! Ninety-two ! " 
 
 " Here we are ! " Mr. Harvey called finally, 
 and handed the women in with the same un 
 hurried action, and the homeward ride began. 
 There was little chance for talk, though Mrs. 
 Harvey did talk. 
 
 Rose sat in silence. This had been another 
 great period of growth. She could still feel the 
 heat and turmoil in her brain. It was as if 
 upon a seed-bed of quick-shooting plants a 
 bright, warm light had been turned, resulting 
 in instant, magical activity. At her door they 
 put her down, and once more she thanked them. 
 
 ' It 's nothing at all, my dear; we hope to do 
 more for you," said Mrs. Harvey. " I want you 
 to come to dinner soon. You '11 come ? " 
 
 " With pleasure," Rose responded, quite as a 
 man might have done. 
 
 280
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD THE OPEN ROAD 
 
 When Rose reached her room, she found the 
 packet of poems lying on her desk. It had 
 come in the afternoon mail. 
 
 She sat down by the toilet table with a burn 
 ing flush on her face. A world seemed some way 
 to lie between her present self and the writer of 
 those imitative verses. She wished to see, yet 
 feared to see what he had written, and taking up 
 the packet she fingered the string while she 
 meditated. She had not absolutely promised 
 not to read the letter, though she had pledged 
 herself to burn the poems. 
 
 Her life was so suddenly filled with new 
 emotions and impulses, that she was bewildered 
 by them. The music, the audience-room, the 
 splendid assemblage, and some compelling 
 power in Mason all of these (or he alone) had 
 changed her point of view. It was a little thing 
 to the great city, a little thing to him probably, 
 but to her it was like unto the war of life and 
 death. 
 
 What, indeed, was the use of being an echo 
 281
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 of passion, a copy ? She had always hated con 
 formity ; she hated to dress like other girls ; 
 why should she be without individuality in her 
 verse, the very part where, as Mason had inti 
 mated, she should be most herself? 
 
 She had the chance to succeed. The people 
 seemed ready to listen to her if she had some 
 thing to say ; and she had something to say 
 why not say it ? 
 
 She arose, tense and white with resolution, 
 and opened the stove door and dropped the 
 packet in, and closed the door and held it as if 
 she feared the packet might explode in her face, 
 or cry out at her. In her poems she would have 
 had the heroine fling it in the grate and snatch it 
 out again, but having no grate the stove must 
 serve, and there could be no snatching at the 
 packet, no remorseful kisses of the charred body. 
 It was gone in a dull roar. 
 
 She sat down and waited till the flame died 
 out, and then drew up to her desk and wrote 
 swiftly for an hour. She grew sleepy at last, as 
 the tumult of her brain grew quieter. Just before 
 she went to sleep all her lovers came before her: 
 Carl, in the strawberry-scented glade ; William 
 de Lisle, shining of limb, courtesying under the 
 lifting canvas roof; Dr. Thatcher, as he looked 
 that afternoon in the schoolroom ; then Forest 
 Darnlee, with the physical beauty of William De 
 i,isle, but vain and careless; then Professor 
 282
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 Ellis, seated at his desk in the chalk-laden air, 
 or perched on the ladder beneath the great 
 telescope, a man who lived in abstract regions 
 far from sense and sound; then Tom Harris, 
 lithe, graceful, always smiling Tom, who had 
 the* songs of birds, the smell of flowers, the 
 gleam of sunset-water leagued with him who 
 almost conquered, but who passed on like a dap 
 ple of purple shadow over the lake. 
 
 And now she faced two others, for she could 
 see that Owen was turning to her from Mary, 
 and he had great charm. He was one of the 
 cleanest-souled men she had ever known; he 
 had, also, a strange touch of paganism, of mys 
 tery, as of free spaces and savage, unstained 
 wildernesses, and he could give her a home, and 
 he would allow her freedom. He would be her 
 subject, not her master. 
 
 Then there was Mason of him what ? She 
 did not know. He was outside her knowledge 
 of men. She could neither read his face nor 
 understand his voice. He scared her with a look 
 or a phrase. Sometimes he looked old and 
 cynical, but tonight how tenderly and sympa 
 thetically he had spoken! How considerately 
 silent he had been ! 
 
 When she awoke, Mary was standing looking 
 down at her. 
 
 " If you 're going to have any breakfast, Rose, 
 you'd better be stirring. It 's nine o'clock, and 
 
 283
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 everything's ready to clear away. What kind of 
 time did you have ?" 
 
 Rose resented her question, but forced her 
 self to answer: 
 
 "Beautiful!" 
 
 " I saw you in the box. Owen and I were in 
 the second balcony. You were just scrumptious! 
 I wanted to throw a kiss at you." She fell upon 
 Rose and squeezed her, quilt and all, in her long 
 arms. " My stars! I wish I was lovely and a poet." 
 
 She had nothing but joy over her idol's good 
 fortune, and it made Rose feel guilty to think 
 how resentful and secretive she had become. 
 There was coming into her friendship with Mary 
 a feeling which prevented further confidence 
 a feeling that Mary was not a suitable confidant, 
 and could not understand the subtleties of her 
 position, in which Rose was quite correct. 
 
 With Mary, procedure was always plain sail 
 ing. Either she was in love and wanted to 
 marry, or she was n't. Her ideals changed com 
 paratively little, and were healthily common 
 place. Her friendships were quick, warm and 
 stable. She was the country girl in the city, and 
 would be so until death. If she felt disposed, 
 she chewed gum or ate an apple on the street 
 like a boy, and she walked on the Lake Shore 
 Sunday evening with Owen, unconscious (and 
 uncaring) of the servant-girls and their lovers 
 seated on every bench. 
 
 284
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 So Rose had grown away from her friend. 
 She felt it dimly the first week. She felt it viv 
 idly on the morning after the concert, and it 
 troubled her. Her life was too subtle, too com 
 plicated and too problematic for honest, freckle- 
 faced, broad-cheeked Mary to analyze. 
 
 Then, too, there was the question of Owen. 
 Soon Mary must see how he set face toward her, 
 but she felt quite equal to answering him when 
 Owen came to speak, because his appeal to her 
 was not in the slightest degree sensuous, as Tom 
 Harris' had been. 
 
 She spent the day in deep thought, writing 
 some lines which came to her, and writing a 
 letter home. She filled it full of love and praise 
 for " pappa John," as if in remorse for growing 
 so far away from him. 
 
 That done she fell back upon her group of 
 friends ; upon the concert, upon thought of that 
 wonderful promenade with Mason. 
 
 The world of art seemed so secure and re 
 poseful, so filled with splendor of human 
 endeavor. She drew her breath in a mighty 
 inspiration, and resolved to be a part of it. 
 Art had always seemed to her so far off, some 
 thing European, and now she seemed to be in 
 immediate contact with it, and soared into ex 
 ultation for a day, falling soon into dreary 
 doubt. 
 
 Her literary ideals were so hopelessly con- 
 
 285
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 
 
 fused. She had lost the desire to write as she 
 had been writing, and there seemed nothing left 
 for her to do. She had so few convictions and 
 so little experience! The door had closed upon 
 her old forms of action, and yet the way Mason 
 had pointed out to her was dark and utterly 
 bewildering. She felt great things moving 
 around her ; themes, deeds that were enormous 
 but not defined. She could not quite lay hold 
 upon them. 
 
 She went down the street to Dr. Herrick's 
 house, feeling that she was committing herself 
 to something. She knew that Isabel had taken 
 her case in hand, and that she was to meet other 
 young men there. She could not resent it, for 
 the zeal of her new-found friend was manifestly 
 from the heart it could not be otherwise. Of 
 what advantage to Dr. Herrick could it be to 
 take her up a poor country girl ? 
 
 In fact, she was puzzled by this overpowering 
 kindness. There was so little apparent reason 
 for it all. She could not, of course, understand 
 the keen delight of introducing a powerful and 
 fresh young mind to the wonders of the city. 
 She had not grown weary of " sets " and " cir 
 cles," and of meeting the same commonplace 
 people again and again, as Mrs. Harvey had. 
 Isabel's position was different, but she had an 
 equal delight, more subtle and lasting, in seeing 
 
 286
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 the genius (as she believed) of the girl win its 
 way, and besides, the girl, herself, pleased her 
 mightily. 
 
 Isabel Herrick's life was one of deep earn 
 estness and high aims. She was the daughter of 
 a physician in an interior city. She had worked 
 her way up from the bottom in the usual Ameri 
 can fashion by plucky efforts constantly directed 
 to one end, and was the head of the house of 
 Herrick, which consisted of her young sister, a 
 brother at college and her aged mother, now an 
 invalid. 
 
 She had been one of the first three girls to 
 enter the medical school, and she had been their 
 shield and fortress in the storm which followed 
 their entrance into the dissecting room. The 
 battle was short but decisive. Her little head 
 was lifted and her face white as she said: 
 
 " Men I won't say gentlemen I 'm here for 
 business, and I 'm here to stay. If you 're afraid 
 of competition from a woman you 'd better get 
 out of the profession." 
 
 In the dead silence which followed a lank 
 country fellow stepped out and raised his voice. 
 
 " She 's right, and I 'm ready to stand by her, 
 and I '11 see she 's let alone." 
 
 Others shouted: "Of course she's right!" by 
 which it appeared the disturbance was of the few 
 and not the mass of students, a fact which Isabel 
 
 287
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 inferred. She spoke a grateful word to the 
 lanky student, and Dr. Sanborn found his wife 
 right there. 
 
 There was little for Isabel to learn of the 
 sordid and vicious side of men. She knew them 
 for what they were, polygamous by instinct, in 
 satiable as animals, and yet she had been treated 
 on the whole with courteous often too courte 
 ous kindness. Her dainty color and her pe 
 tite figure won over-gallant footway everywhere, 
 though she often said: 
 
 " Gentlemen, I have studied my part. I know 
 what I am doing and I ask only a fair field and 
 no favors." 
 
 Thatcher and Sanborn had been her close 
 companions in the stern, hard course they set 
 themselves; each had said with vast resolution to 
 the other: " I 'm not to be left behind." And 
 each had sworn to take no mediocre position. 
 Thatcher had made apparently the least mark 
 in the world, but he was writing a monograph 
 which was expected to give important facts to 
 the medical profession. He had written to San 
 born several times: " You have the advantage of 
 association with the ' Little Corporal.' " 
 
 They called her " Little Corporal " among 
 themselves. Her sternly sweet face had a sug 
 gestion of Napoleon in it, and then she ordered 
 them about so naturally and led them so inevit 
 ably in everything she undertook. 
 288
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 It was into the hands of the " Little Corpo 
 ral " that Rose had fallen, and all Isabel's en 
 thusiasm was roused in her behalf. Her own 
 little sister was a sweet, placid little thing, who 
 had inherited the body, and spirit as well, of 
 her mother, while Isabel had inherited the mind 
 of her father in the body of her mother. 
 
 Something of this Thatcher had told Rose, 
 part of it Isabel had told, and it made only one 
 definite impression on Rose this, that a woman 
 could succeed if she set her teeth hard and did 
 not waste time. 
 
 She found Isabel already surrounded by com 
 pany. She made every other Sunday evening 
 an informal " at home," and certain well-known 
 artists and professional people dropped in to 
 talk awhile, or to sit at her generous table. It 
 was a good place to be and Rose had perception 
 enough to feel that. 
 
 " O, you dear child! I'm glad to see you. 
 There 's some one here you '11 be glad to see." 
 
 Rose flushed a little, thinking of Mason. 
 
 "It 's an old friend Dr. Thatcher." 
 
 Rose clapped her hands : " O, is he ? I 'm 
 so glad ; it 's almost like seeing the folks." 
 
 "I've asked Elbert Harvey and Mr. Mason 
 also; I didn't want you to think I had no 
 friends but doctors. It must seem to you as 
 if the world is made up of doctors. But it 
 isn't." 
 
 289
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Thatcher greeted Rose quietly but with a 
 pressure of the hand which made up for his 
 impassivity of countenance. He trembled a 
 little as he sat down and watched her greeting 
 Sanborn and Mason. 
 
 Fear and admiration were both present in 
 her heart as Mason took her hand. 
 
 She forced herself to look into his face, and 
 started to find his eyes so terribly penetrating. 
 
 "I burned the packet," she said with a con 
 strained smile. 
 
 His eyes grew softer and a little humorous. 
 
 "Did you indeed. Without opening it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Heroic girl!" 
 
 "Am I not?" she said over her shoulder as 
 Isabel dragged her toward a tall, smooth-faced 
 young fellow who stood talking with Etta. 
 
 "Elbert, this is Miss Butcher Rose, young 
 Mr. Harvey , son of our hostess at the con 
 cert." 
 
 Young Harvey seemed much taken back as 
 he faced Rose, and shook hands in current 
 angular fashion. His mind formulated these 
 opinions: 
 
 "She 's a stunner! Caroline was dead right!" 
 By "Caroline" he meant his mother. 
 
 Rose placed him at once. He was another 
 college man. Paul and Etta joined them and 
 they made a fine group. They were soon as 
 290
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 free as schoolmates, laughing, telling stories, 
 and fighting over the East and the West. 
 
 Rose stoutly defended the western colleges; 
 they had their place, she said. 
 
 "So they have," Elbert said, "but let them 
 keep it." 
 
 "Their place is at the head, and that's 
 where we '11 put them soon," she said. 
 
 Elbert told a story about hazing a western 
 boy at Yale. He grew excited and sprang up 
 to dramatize it. He stood on one foot and 
 screwed up his face, while the rest shrieked with 
 laughter, all except Rose, who thought it unjust. 
 Mason looked on from his low chair with a 
 revealing touch of envious sadness. He had 
 gone past that life past the land of youth and 
 love past the islands of mirth and minstrelsy. 
 He was facing a cold, gray sea, with only here 
 and there a grim granite reef gnawing the water 
 into foam. 
 
 It made him long to be part of that again, 
 therefore he valued Rose more at that moment 
 than ever before. "The girl has imagination, 
 she has variety. She is not a simple personality. 
 At the concert she was exalted, rapt, her eyes 
 deep. Tonight she is a schoolgirl. Then it was 
 Wagner now it is college horse,play." 
 
 Isabel came up to sit a moment by him. 
 
 "Isn't she fine? I think I surprised young 
 Harvey. I thought I 'd like to have her meet 
 291
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 him he's such a fine fellow. She should meet 
 someone else beside us old fogies." 
 
 Mason winced a little. 
 
 "Well now, that's pleasant! Do you call 
 me an old fogy ? " 
 
 She laughed: 
 
 " O, we 're not old in years, but we 're old 
 in experience. The bloom of the grape is 
 lost." 
 
 " But the grape is ripe, and we still have that. 
 The bloom what is it ? A nest for bacteria." 
 
 " But it is so beautiful with the bloom on," 
 she said wistfully. " I 'd take it again, bacteria 
 and all. See those young people ! The meet 
 ing of their eyes is great as fame, and the 
 touch the accidental touch of their hands or 
 shoulders, like a return of lost ships. I am 
 thirty-three years of age and I 've missed that 
 somewhere." 
 
 Mason lifted his eyebrows: 
 
 " Do you mean to say that the touch of San- 
 born's hand does not hasten your blood ? " 
 
 "I do and yet I love him as much as I 
 shall ever love anybody now." 
 
 Mason studied her, and then chanted softly: 
 
 " ' Another came in the days that were golden, 
 One that was fair, in the days of the olden 
 Time, long ago!' 
 
 You 've never told me about that." 
 292
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 She smiled. " No, but I will some time per 
 haps." 
 
 She led the way out to supper with Dr. 
 Thatcher, and the rest followed without quite 
 breaking off conversation, a merry, witty pro 
 cession. 
 
 Rose was conscious of a readjustment of 
 values. Dr. Thatcher had less weight in the 
 presence of these people, but Mason Mason 
 easily dominated the table without effort. In 
 deed, he was singularly silent, but there was 
 something in the poise of his head, in the 
 glance of his eyes, which showed power and in 
 sight into life. 
 
 The young folks, led by young Harvey took 
 possession of the table, and laughter rippled 
 from silence to silence like a mountain stream. 
 Young Harvey aided at the chafing-dish with 
 the air of an adept, and Isabel was almost as 
 light-hearted in laughter as he. 
 
 Thatcher and Mason seemed to sit apart from 
 it, and so it was Mason found opportunity to say: 
 
 "You knew our young friend of the coule" 
 discovered her, in fact ? " 
 
 " Yes, as much as any one could discover her. 
 It 's a little early to talk of her as if she had 
 achieved fame." 
 
 " Dr. Herrick thinks she 's on the instant of 
 going up higher, and so we 're all hanging to 
 her skirts in hopes of getting a rise." 
 
 293
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Thatcher did n't like Mason's tone. 
 
 "Rose is a hard worker. If she rises any 
 higher it will be by the same methods which 
 put her through college." He spoke with a 
 little air of proprietorship. 
 
 Mason felt the rebuff, but he was seeking 
 information about Rose, therefore he ignored it. 
 
 " She 's an only child, I believe." 
 
 "Yes; her father is a hard-working, well-to- 
 do farmer in a little ' coolly ' in Wisconsin." 
 
 " It 's the same old story, I suppose ; he 
 does n't realize that he 's lost his daughter to 
 the city of Chicago. We gain at his expense." 
 
 Mason's mind had something feminine about 
 it, and he saw as never before how attractive to 
 a girl a fine young fellow like Harvey could be. 
 Being rich he was lifted above worry. His 
 activity was merely wholesome exercise, and his 
 flesh was clean and velvety as a girl's. He was 
 strong, too, as it was the fashion of college men 
 of his day to be. He had never known want 
 or care in his beautiful life. He was, moreover, 
 a clean boy. Money had not spoiled his sterling 
 nature. It was no wonder that Rose's eyes grew 
 wide and dark as they rested on him. They 
 were physically a beautiful pair and their union 
 seemed the most inevitable thing in the world. 
 
 Isabel leaned over to say: 
 
 " Are n't they enjoying themselves? I wish 
 Mrs. Harvey could see them." 
 294
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 After they had returned to the sitting room 
 a couple of young artists came in with John 
 Coburg, Mason's room-mate on the Star. He 
 was a smooth-faced fellow of extra-solemn 
 visage, relieved by twinkling black eyes. The 
 artists were keen, alert-looking fellows, with 
 nothing to indicate their profession save their 
 pointed beards. One of them being lately 
 from Paris turned his moustaches up devilishly; 
 the other had fallen away from his idols suffi 
 ciently to wear his moustaches turned down and 
 an extra width to his beard. 
 
 Rose was glad Mr. Davidson twisted his mus 
 tache; there was so little else about him to indi 
 cate his high calling. 
 
 Their coming turned the current of talk upon 
 matters of art, which made Rose feel perfectly 
 certain she was getting at the heart of Chicago 
 artistic life. 
 
 Mr. Davidson inveighed against America, and 
 Chicago especially, for its " lack of art atmos 
 phere." 
 
 " If you 've got the creative power you can 
 make your own art atmosphere," his companion 
 hotly said. " You always start up on that 
 thing." Evidently it was a source of violent 
 argument between them. 
 
 " The trouble is you fellows who paint, want 
 to make a living too easy," Mason remarked. 
 
 295
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "You ought to stay and do pioneer work 
 among us," said Isabel. 
 
 " I do n't consider it worth while so far as I 
 am concerned. I prefer Paris." 
 
 " You 're not very patriotic." 
 
 "There is no patriotism in art." 
 
 " That 's the regular Parisian jabber," re 
 turned his friend. " I talked all that myself. 
 What you need is a touch of poverty. I 'd like 
 to see your people drop you in a small town 
 where you had to make your living for a little 
 while." 
 
 "All the hard conditions of Chicago are 
 changing," Isabel interposed, with peaceful in-' 
 tent. " All that was true a few years ago is not 
 true now. The materialism you war against, no 
 longer dominates us. We are giving a little 
 time to art and literature." 
 
 Davidson twisted his mustache point. " It 
 isn't noticeable yet O, there 's a little band of 
 fellows starving here like rats in a garret but 
 what general recognition of art have you ? " 
 
 " What could you expect ? " 
 
 " Well, you might buy pictures." 
 
 "We do old masters and salon pictures," 
 said Mills, with a relenting acknowledgment of 
 the city's weakness. 
 
 " That 's it exactly !" said Davidson. " You 've 
 no judgment here. You are obliged to take 
 your judgment from somebody else. " 
 296
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 So the talk proceeded. To Rose it was 
 illuminating and epoch-making. She read in it 
 the city's developing thought. Paris and the 
 Rocky Mountains met here with Chicago and 
 the most modern types of men and women. 
 
 Meanwhile Mason found opportunity to say 
 to Thatcher, who seemed a little ill at ease : 
 
 "These little informal Sunday suppers and 
 free-for-alls are increasing in number, and they 
 are signs of civilization. Of course a few of the 
 women still go to church in the morning, but 
 that will wear off, except at new-bonnet time." 
 
 Thatcher did not reply; he thought Mason a 
 little flippant. 
 
 Rose sought opportunity to talk about Mrs. 
 Thatcher and Josephine. 
 
 " They 're quite well." 
 
 " I wish I could see them both." 
 
 " We should be glad to welcome you back to 
 Madison any time. But I hardly expect to see 
 you, except on a vacation, possibly. You 're a city 
 dweller already. I can see that." He seemed 
 sadder than she had ever known him, and his 
 look troubled her a little. 
 
 At ten o'clock she rose to go, and young 
 Harvey sprang up : 
 
 " Are you going ? If you are I hope you '11 
 give me the pleasure my carriage " 
 
 " Thank you very much," she answered quick 
 ly. " I 've a friend coming for me." Thatcher 
 
 297
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 rose as if to go with her, but sat down again 
 with a level line of resolution on his lips. 
 
 Mason and Harvey both wondered a little 
 about that friend. Mason took a certain delight 
 in young Harvey's defeat, and analyzed his 
 pulse to find out why he was delighted. " We 
 should mob that friend," he said to Sanborn. 
 " He is an impertinence, at this time." 
 
 Rose felt Isabel's arm around her as she en 
 tered the cloakroom. 
 
 " Is n't he fine ?" 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Mr. Harvey." 
 
 "O yes so are the artists." Rose began 
 to wonder if Isabel were not a matchmaker as 
 well as a promoter of genius. 
 
 Isabel had a suspicion of Rose's thought and 
 she laughingly said: 
 
 "Don't think I 'm so terrible! I do like to 
 bring the right people together. I see so many 
 people wrongly mated, but I do n't mean I 
 only want you to know nice people. You 're to 
 do your own choosing," she said with sudden 
 gravity. " No one can choose for you. There 
 are some things I want to talk about when I can 
 venture it." 
 
 Mason and Sanborn were the last to go and 
 when Isabel returned from the door, where she 
 had speeded the last guest, she dropped into a 
 chair and sighed. 
 
 298
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 " It 's splendid good fun, but it does tire me 
 so! Talk to me now while I rest." 
 
 "Sanborn, talk!" Mason commanded. 
 
 Sanborn drew a chair near Isabel and put his 
 arm about her. She leaned her head on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 Mason rose in mock confusion. 
 
 "I beg your pardon! I should have gone 
 before." 
 
 Isabel smiled. " Do n't go; we 're not dis 
 turbed." 
 
 " I was considering myself." 
 
 " O, you were ! " 
 
 " Such things shock me, but if I may smoke 
 I may be able " 
 
 " Of course. Smoke and tell me what you 
 think of Rose. Is n't it strange how that girl 
 gets on ? She 's one of the women born to win 
 her way without effort. It is n't true to say it is 
 physical ; that 's only part of it it 's tempera 
 ment." 
 
 Mason got his cigar well alight before he said: 
 
 "She has the prime virtue imagination." 
 
 " Is that a woman's prime virtue ? " 
 
 " To me it is. Of course there are other 
 domestic and conjugal virtues which are com 
 monly ranked higher, but they are really subor 
 dinate. Sappho and Helen and Mary of the 
 Scots were not beautiful nor virtuous, as such 
 terms go; they had imagination, and imagina- 
 299
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 tion gave them variety, and variety means end 
 less charm. It is decidedly impossible to keep 
 up your interest in a woman who is the same 
 yesterday, today and tomorrow whose orbit 
 can be predicted, whose radiance is without the 
 shadow of turning." 
 
 " Should he be stopped ? " Isabel asked of 
 Sanborn. 
 
 " I should n't like the job," Sanborn replied. 
 " When he strikes that line of soliloquy he 's out 
 
 of my control." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Rose found Owen waiting in the hall, and she 
 accepted his escort with the frankness of a sister. 
 
 " Have you waited long ? " 
 
 " No, I was just going to ring the bell when 
 I heard your voice." 
 
 They walked on in silence. At last he asked : 
 
 " Did you have a good time ? " 
 
 " Splendid!" she answered. 
 
 " We missed you," he said. 
 
 Rose felt something tender in his voice and 
 remained silent. 
 
 "I heard from my partners today." He went 
 on after a little : " They 're feeling mighty good. 
 Struck another vein that promises better than the 
 
 one we have. I ought to go out, but I " 
 
 He paused abruptly. "Did you ever see the 
 
 Rockies in late fall ? O, they 're mighty, mighty 
 
 as the sky! I wish you 'd I wish we could 
 
 300
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 make up a party some time and go out. I 'd 
 take a car " 
 
 She faced the situation. 
 
 " I '11 tell you what would be nice: When 
 you and Mary take your wedding trip I '11 go 
 along to take care of you both." 
 
 Owen fairly staggered under the import of 
 that speech, and could find nothing to say for 
 some time. 
 
 " Did you have a good time tonight ? " he 
 asked again. 
 
 "Splendid! I always do when I go to 
 Isabel's." Thereafter they walked in silence. 
 
 Rose fell to thinking of young Harvey in the 
 days which followed. There was allurement in 
 his presence quite different from that of any 
 other. She could not remember anything he 
 had said, only he had made her laugh and his 
 eyes were frank and boyish. She felt his grace 
 and the charm that comes from security of po 
 sition and freedom from care. 
 
 He brought up to her mind by force of con 
 trast, her father, with his eyes dimmed with harsh 
 winds and dust and glowing sun. He was now 
 spending long, dull days wandering about the 
 house and barn, going to bed early in order to 
 rise with the sun, to begin the same grind of 
 duties the day following. Young Harvey's life 
 was the opposite from this. 
 
 He admired her, she felt that as distinctly as 
 301
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 if he had spoken to her. He wanted to be near 
 her. He had asked her to help him with the 
 chafing-dish that night, and to pour the beer 
 while he stirred the gluey mass of cheese. All 
 the little things by which a young man expresses 
 his admiration he had used almost artlessly, cer 
 tainly boyishly. 
 
 There was nothing there but a vista of pleas 
 ures, certain relief from toil and worry. What a 
 marvelous thing to be suddenly relieved from all 
 fear of hunger and every harassing thought 
 about the future! And it was not a question of 
 an old man of wealth, or a man of repulsive ap 
 pearance; it was a question of taking a bright, 
 handsome, clean-souled man, together with his 
 money. She felt the power to put out her hand 
 and claim him as her own. 
 
 She liked him, too; he amused her and inter 
 ested her. She admired his splendid flesh and 
 his clear, laughing eyes. It seemed the easiest 
 thing in the world to an outsider. She felt 
 that Isabel was working hard to have her see 
 young Harvey at his best, and she felt, too, that 
 Mrs. Harvey was taking unusual interest in her, 
 and in her secret heart she knew she could 
 marry into that fine family, but 
 
 Liking was not love. She did not shiver 
 
 when he clasped her hand, as she did when 
 
 Mason greeted her. She feared Mason. When 
 
 he came by, her judgment blurred and her eyes 
 
 302
 
 ROSE SETS FACE TOWARD OPEN ROAD 
 
 fell. She could n't tell what his traits were, and 
 she did n't know whether he was a good man or 
 not. She hungered to see him, to hear his voice; 
 beyond that she hardly dared consciously go. 
 
 His attitude toward her she could not under 
 stand. Sometimes he seemed anxious to please 
 her, sometimes he seemed equally determined 
 that she should understand how inconsequential 
 she was in his life and always he dominated her. 
 
 She did not once think it might be indecision 
 in his mind, after the usual stupidity of love's 
 victims. She thought his changes of manner 
 due in some way to her. She had acted fool 
 ishly, or she was looking so badly he was 
 ashamed of her. 
 
 In this condition of mind, it may be imag 
 ined, she did not do much studying or writing. 
 She went to the library regularly, but she could 
 not concentrate her thoughts upon her book. 
 She grew surly and changeable with Mary, who 
 no longer dared to talk unguardedly with her. 
 
 Mary's eyes were not glass marbles; she could 
 see things with them, and she said gleefully to 
 Owen one night: 
 
 " She 's in love, that 's what is the matter with 
 her. I do n't mind it. She '11 be all right after 
 a while. She 's short as pie-crust with me, but I 
 know how it is myself. She 's in love with some 
 high-flyer she 's met at Dr. Herrick's house." 
 
 Then she wondered why Owen made no reply. 
 
 303
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 MASON TALKS AGAIN 
 
 Not seeing Mason for some days, Sanborn 
 took a walk one night, and turned up about 
 nine o'clock at his rooms. He found him sitting 
 before his open grate fire, smoking meditatively. 
 "Hello, Sanborn ! Glad you came over." 
 He did not rise, but Sanborn was untroubled by 
 that. 
 
 "Got another chapter turned off?" 
 "Possibly. Fill up and draw up." 
 Sanborn obediently filled a pipe and drew up 
 a chair. 
 
 " You look tired." 
 
 "I am. I have written a column editorial on 
 the labor question, one on the Chinese treaty, a 
 special article on irrigation for the Sunday issue, 
 not counting odd paragraphs on silver, anarchy, 
 and other little chores of my daily grind." 
 "That's not as bad as poulticing people." 
 "Bad! There's nothing any worse, and my 
 novelistic friends are always saying, ' Why do n't 
 you turn in and finish up your novel ? ' What 
 can an intellectual prostitute do ? " 
 
 304
 
 MASON TALKS AGAIN 
 
 "Get out of the business, one would suppose." 
 
 " Well, now, that brings me to the point. 
 In the midst of all my other worriments, I am 
 debating whether to marry a rich girl and escape 
 work, or a poor girl and work harder, or to give 
 the whole matter of marriage up forever." 
 
 "These are actual cases, not hypothetical, this 
 time?" 
 
 Mason turned a slow eye upon him. 
 
 "I have no need to fly to hypothetical cases," 
 he said, dryly. "In the first place, my hero 
 if you incline tonight to that theory of the case 
 my hero is equally interested in two young 
 women. This is contrary to the story books, 
 but then only an occasional novelist tells the 
 truth. I'm to be that one." 
 
 He seemed to be going off upon some other 
 line of thought, and Sanborn hauled him back 
 by asking a pertinent question : 
 
 "You mean to say both of these young ladies 
 have that glamour ?" 
 
 " O, not at all! They did have, but it has 
 faded in both cases, as in all previous cases, yet 
 more seems to have remained, or else I am get 
 ting a little less exacting. In the case of the 
 sculptress she 's the poor girl, of course she 's 
 a genius. The first time I saw her she read a 
 paper on 'The Modern in Sculpture' (it was 
 good, too). She was dressed beautifully, in 
 cheese-cloth, for all I know I only know she 
 
 305
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 put to shame her sculptured copies of Hope and 
 Ariadne. The glamour was around her like 
 rose-colored flame. It was about her still when 
 I stepped up to her. She was tall, and strong 
 as a young lioness. Her clean, sweet eyes were 
 level with mine, and she made me ashamed of 
 every mean thing I had uttered in my whole 
 life." 
 
 " Well, well ! " exclaimed Sanborn. 
 
 "She was flattered and exalted to think 'the 
 editor ' was pleased with her essay, and the rest 
 was easy. I went to call on her a day or two 
 later " 
 
 "And the glamour the glamour?" 
 
 Mason shook his head. " Faint! She was in 
 her study, and the hard, cold light was merciless. 
 She was handsome, even then, but her face had 
 a pinched look, and there was a heavy droop to 
 her lips. The color so beautiful that night when 
 flushed with excitement had faded from her 
 cheeks, and gathered in some unfortunate way 
 about her eyes and nose. She was a fine woman, 
 but the glamour was gone." 
 
 " What an eye for symptoms ! you should 
 have been a physician," Sanborn put in. 
 
 " At the same time she grew upon me. She 's 
 an artist. She has the creative hand no doubt 
 of that. She has dreams, beautiful dreams of 
 art. She glows, and dilates, and sings with the 
 joy of it. She could bring into my life some- 
 306
 
 MASON TALKS AGAIN 
 
 thing of the dreams I myself had as a youth. 
 She 's going to make a name for herself, without 
 question." 
 
 " Why, that 's glorious, Warren, old man ; 
 she 's just the wife for you ! And she really in 
 clines toward you ?" 
 
 " She does." Then his self-crucifying humor 
 came in. " That 's really her most questionable 
 virtue. However, if Love can laugh at lock 
 smiths, I suppose he can laugh at a bald head. 
 But this is only one phase of the matter. Like all 
 spectators, you are informed of only one side of 
 the banner. Let 's look at the other. 
 
 " I manage to live here and support this fire, 
 which is my only extravagance. I keep the 
 establishment going, and a little more. I '11 
 anticipate the usual arguments. Suppose, for a 
 little while, it would not increase expenses. It 
 would not do to bring a woman here, it would 
 not be right. When children came and I 
 should hope for children they should have a 
 home in the suburbs; I do n't believe in raising 
 children in a flat. That would mean an estab 
 lishment which would take every cent I could 
 hook on to, and it would mean that the whole 
 glittering fabric would be built upon my own 
 personal palm." 
 
 "But she might earn something you say 
 she 's a genius." 
 
 " She is, that 's the reason she '11 never make 
 
 307
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 money. Holding the view I do, I could not re 
 quire her to toil. I do not believe marriage con 
 fers any authority on the husband you under 
 stand my position there ? " 
 
 "Perfectly and agree with it, to a limited 
 extent, of course." 
 
 "Going back, therefore I do not believe I 
 can assume the risk involved. I 'm not capable 
 of twenty years' work at my present rate. I 'd 
 break down, some fine day, and then my little 
 home, upheld upon my Atlas palm, would tum 
 ble. No, I can 't take the risk. I 'm getting 
 too foxy; I have n't the bounce I once had. 
 Besides, her career is to be considered. I do n't 
 believe I can afford to let her marry me." 
 
 " That 's mighty kind of you," Sanborn dryly 
 remarked. 
 
 "Thank you. I think it is an error of judg 
 ment on her part. She is younger, and as her 
 adviser I think I must interfere and save her 
 from the power of a vivid imagination and 
 abounding vitality. You see, there are a great 
 many considerations involved." 
 
 "Real love, I must repeat, would not consider." 
 
 " I wish you would n't repeat it, it does you an 
 injustice. The animal passion of youth would 
 not consider. With youth, it is marry marry, 
 even if within the year you are picked up by the 
 patrol wagon, a vagrant in the streets. The love 
 of my time is not so heedless nor so selfish; it 
 308
 
 MASON TALKS AGAIN 
 
 extends to the question of the other party to the 
 transaction." 
 
 " I suppose that should be so, but as a physi 
 cian I doubt it. My observations do not run 
 that way. Age grows like a child again, thor 
 oughly selfish." 
 
 " Then there is the question of the ' possible 
 woman,' " Mason resumed, and his tone was cyn 
 ically humorous again. " I can 't give her up. 
 There she stands in a radiant mist always just 
 before me like the rainbow of our childhood. I 
 can 't promise any woman to love her till death. 
 I do n't know as it would be safe to promise it 
 even to the woman with glamour. Another 
 might come with a subtler glory, and a better 
 fitting glamour, and then " 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 " It would all be up with the first woman," 
 he said with a gravity of tone of which the words 
 gave no hint. 
 
 " I 'm afraid some one has already come to 
 make pale the beauty of the sculptress. What 
 about the other, the rich girl you set over against 
 the sculptress at the beginning? Mind you, I 
 believe the whole situation is fictitious, but I '11 
 humor you in it." 
 
 "Well, Aurelia we '11 call her Aurelia brings 
 up a far-reaching train of reflections, and, if 
 you 've got a patient waiting, you 'd better come 
 again." 
 
 39
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " I 'm the only patient waiting." 
 
 Mason ignored the lame old pun and pro 
 ceeded : 
 
 " Aurelia lives in Springfield. You know the 
 kind of home the wealthy politician builds in a 
 western town combination of jail and court 
 house. I attended a reception there last winter 
 and saw Aurelia for the first time. She was as 
 beautiful as an acrobat " 
 
 " I do n't want to interrupt, Mason, but I no 
 tice all your heroines are beautiful." 
 
 " They must be ; my taste will not permit me 
 to tolerate unsymmetrical heroines. I started in 
 as an architect and I 've done a little paddling 
 in clay, and my heroines must be harmonious of 
 structure glamour comes only with beauty, to 
 me." 
 
 " Largely physical, then." 
 "Certainly! I believe in the physical, the 
 healthy, wholesome physical. In the splendor 
 of the tiger's wooing is no disease." 
 
 "Well, well, she was beautiful as an acro 
 bat " 
 
 Mason looked sour. " One more interrup 
 tion, and the rest of my heart-tragedy will re 
 main forever alien to your ear." 
 
 Sanborn seemed alarmed : 
 
 " My lips are glued to my pipe." 
 
 Mason mused (" Composed 1" Sanbom 
 thought.) 
 
 310
 
 MASON TALKS AGAIN 
 
 " She looked as if she had been moulded into 
 her gown. The Parisian robe and the hair piled 
 high, were fast undeniably theatric, but her 
 little face was sweet and girlish, almost childish. 
 Well, she had glamour, largely physical as you 
 say. But like the heroes of E. P. Roe's novels, 
 I aspired to awaken her soul. She was pleased 
 with me apparently. I called soon after the re 
 ception I always follow up each case of 
 glamour. I knew she was rich but I did not 
 realize she commanded such an establishment. 
 
 " It was enormous. Her mother was a faded 
 little hen of a woman, who had been a very 
 humble person in youth, and who continued a 
 very humble person in middle-life. The court 
 house in which she was forced to live continu 
 ally over-awed her, but the girl used it, enter 
 tained in it as if she had a string of palace-dwell 
 ing ancestors straggling clear back to Charle 
 magne." 
 
 " That 's the American idea, the power of 
 adaptation. Our women have it better developed 
 than " 
 
 " She was a gracious and charming hostess, 
 and I admit the sight of her in command of 
 such an establishment was impressive. I thought 
 how easily a tired editor could be absorbed into 
 that institution and beat rest a kind of life 
 hospital, so to say. She was interested in me 
 that was certain." 
 
 3"
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "Now, Mason, I must protest. You know how 
 high Isabel and I both hold you, but we never 
 quite considered you in the light of a ladies' 
 man. Your Springfield girl must have had doz 
 ens of brilliant and handsome young men about 
 her." 
 
 Mason smoked in silence, waiting till San- 
 born's buzz ceased. 
 
 " Well, she came to the city last month, and 
 I 've been to see her a number of times; the last 
 time I saw her she proposed to me." 
 
 Sanborn stared, with fallen jaw gaping, while 
 Mason continued in easy flow. 
 
 " And I have the matter under consideration. 
 I saw the coming storm in her eyes. Last night 
 as we sat together at the piano she turned sud 
 denly and faced me, very tense and very white. 
 
 " ' Mr. Mason, why can 't you I mean 
 what do you think of me ? ' 
 
 " I could n't tell her that night what I 
 thought of her, for she had seemed more 
 minutely commonplace than ever. She had 
 trotted round her little well-worn circle of graces 
 and accomplishments, even to playing her favor 
 ite selection on the piano. I equivocated. I 
 professed it was not very easy to say what I 
 thought of her, and added : 
 
 "'I think you're a fine, wholesome girl,' as 
 she is, of course. 
 
 " ' But you don 't think I 'm beautiful ? ' 
 312
 
 MASON TALKS AGAIN 
 
 That was a woman's question, was n't it. * Yes,' 
 I said in reply, ' I think you are very attractive. 
 Nature has been lavish with you.' 
 
 "Then she flamed red and stammered a 
 little : 
 
 " 'Then why do n't you like me ?' 
 
 " ' I do, 1 I said. 
 
 " ' You know what I mean,' she hurried on to 
 say ' I want you to like me better than any 
 other woman.' 
 
 " ' That 's impossible,' I replied. It was 
 pitiful to see her sitting there like a beggar in the 
 midst of all her splendor. ' I like you very much. 
 I think you 're very sweet and kind and girlish.' 
 
 " She seemed to react from her boldness. 
 Her eyes filled with tears. ' I know you think 
 I 'm terrible to say these things.' 
 
 " ' No. I feel that I do not deserve such trust 
 on your part.' Then she defended me. ' Yes, 
 you do. I could n't have spoken to any one else 
 so. You 're so kind and gentle.' " 
 
 " Did she say that of you ? " 
 
 "She said that." 
 
 "I wish I could reach that phase of your 
 character," sighed Sanborn. " What did you 
 say in reply ? " 
 
 Mason apparently showed deep feeling at 
 last. 
 
 " I told her that I was like the average man. I 
 was taking credit to myself for not devouring
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 her like a wolf! She didn't listen to that. 
 'What can I do to make you like me?' she 
 asked. She leaned toward me, her chin in her 
 palm, thinking and suffering as her sweet little 
 soul had never suffered before. ' I 'm too sim 
 ple,' she said, with a flash of startling insight. 
 4 1 do n't know enough. I feel that. Can 't I 
 study and change that ? ' 
 
 " ' You 're changing that now,' I replied. 
 
 " She grew radiant for a moment. 
 
 " ' O you do like me a little! ' " 
 
 As he went on, Mason's tone grew sweet and 
 solemn. It had singular power of suggestion. 
 It developed more of his nature than he knew ; 
 his real gravity, and tenderness and purity. 
 
 " There you have it," he ended. He struck 
 the ashes out of his pipe and rose. 
 
 " I could marry her, but it would n't make 
 her happy. It would make her surfer. It is 
 not a light thing to decide. It is a very grave 
 thing. As in the case of the sculptress I thought 
 it an error of judgment on her part, and on my 
 own it would be criminal." 
 
 " That 's a fine bit of fiction," said Sanborn. 
 " You 're too rough on yourself, for you could 
 do the girl a deal of good by marrying her." 
 
 " Possibly. In the case of the sculptress the 
 problem is different. She is moving past me 
 like a queen splendid, supple, a smile of con- 
 iscious power on her lips, the light of success in
 
 MASON TALKS AGAIN 
 
 her eyes. It 's a terrible temptation, I admit, 
 this power to stretch out my hand and stay her. 
 It makes my blood leap, but my sense of justice 
 will not allow of it. I shall let her pass on, 
 beautiful and rapt." 
 
 " To marry some confounded pin-head, who 
 will make her a domestic animal, and degrade 
 her into ' my wife, gents ' ? " 
 
 " Possibly. However, my responsibility ends 
 where I say good-bye." 
 
 " Do n't shirk do n't shirk." 
 
 Mason turned on him. His voice lost a little 
 of its coldness. 
 
 "Is a man to have no credit for letting such 
 a glorious creature pass him, unharmed and 
 free?" 
 
 " Why yes, certainly. But the world of art 
 will not satisfy that girl. She 's sure to marry 
 she must marry and she is entitled to more 
 consideration. You 've got to look ahead to the 
 time when she regrets the lack of husband and 
 children." 
 
 " Ah, but it 's a frightful thing, Sanborn, to 
 arrest that girl, to make her a wife and mother, 
 to watch her grow distorted, stiffened, heavy 
 with child-bearing. I prefer to see her pass me, 
 in order that I may remember her, lithe, radiant, 
 moving like music and light." 
 
 " That 's fine, Mason, I honor you for that 
 spirit," said Sanborn, deeply moved. " But you
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 must remember I am about to be married to a 
 beautiful woman myself, a woman who knows 
 both sexes, knows their vices and passions. She 
 tells me, and it fits in with what I know myself, 
 that the woman's nature moves on from this 
 . beautiful state you 've described so well, into the 
 pain and responsibility of marriage not merely 
 
 /willingly, but eagerly. Half the girl's joy, 
 which we men see in her face, is the smile of an- 
 
 </ ticipated motherhood it must be so. Isabel, 
 as you know, is no sentimentalist ; she 's a wo 
 man you can talk these things to, freely. I can 't 
 state it as she did, but the substance of it was 
 this: if the girl knew she was to be always 
 young and childish, her youth and beauty would 
 be of no value to her that it is the untried 
 pain and pleasures of other years and conditions 
 which make the beauty so radiant now." 
 
 "All of which merely means she makes the 
 best of an irresistible and tragic impulse, a force 
 which she does not originate and cannot con 
 trol. Therefore I say it is a sorrowful business 
 to hew down a temple or tear a lily in pieces." 
 The two men were silent again. They had 
 reached fundamentals in their talk. Sanborn 
 considered the whole matter an allegory, which 
 Mason was using to veil his design to win 
 Rose if possible. He knew the ease of Mason's 
 invention, as well as his power to present a case 
 dramatically, and while he was moved by the 
 316
 
 MASON TALKS AGAIN 
 
 expression of his friend's noble thought, he 
 could not think that there was any exact truth 
 contained in the story. 
 
 Mason resumed a moment later: 
 
 " There are certain other material, minor and 
 prosaic considerations which must be kept in 
 mind. Suppose I announce my engagement to 
 Miss Aurelia; the newspapers would have a 
 pleasant paragraph or two. Some people would 
 say 'what a very appropriate match.' Others 
 would say very knowingly, ' Well, Mason has 
 feathered his nest.' The newspaper boys who 
 really wish me well would say, ' Good for 
 Mason; now he can take time to finish that 
 great American novel he's had on hand so 
 long ! ' A few shrewd fellows would say, 'Well, 
 that ends Mason ! He 's naturally lazy, and 
 with a wife and home like that he '11 never do 
 another stroke of work. Mason's like Cole 
 ridge in one thing: he dreams great things, but 
 never writes them. He 's out of the race ! ' ' 
 
 " There 's something in that," Sanborn ad 
 mitted. 
 
 " I know there is," Mason replied without 
 offense. " Now we '11 suppose I scrape a little 
 money together for immediate use. The old 
 railway Baron is kind. He tolerates me for the 
 daughter's sake. I come in contact with the 
 relatives ; already I have had a touch of them! 
 A girl like that is not like a pebble on the sea- 
 
 3 1 ?
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 shore ; she 's a thread in a web of cloth, a 
 silken thread in a breadth of shoddy, maybe. 
 You can 't marry her and have her to yourself. 
 You come into new relations with her people 
 as her fiance. They cannot be escaped. They 
 swarm around you. They question your mo 
 tives and they comment on your person: ' He's 
 getting bent and bald ; ' ' He 's lazy ; ' ' What 
 did she ever see in him ? ' They vulgarize 
 everything they touch. They are as tiresome 
 as the squeal of a pump, but there you are, 
 you must meet them. The old gentleman is a 
 man who deals in millions, reliable and con 
 scientious. He talks to you about his busi 
 ness, till you say, ' business be damned.' He 
 thereafter meets you in heavy silence. The 
 mother is a timid soul, with an exaggerated 
 idea of your importance as an editor. The 
 aunts and uncles variously sniff and tremble 
 before you." 
 
 " Meanwhile your wife has talked all she 
 knows, and all she says thereafter has a familiar 
 sound. She delights in stories with many repe 
 titions in them. Her little brain travels from the 
 pantry to the table, from the tea table to the 
 children's bath tub; its widest circuit is the mil 
 linery store and the bargain counter. She gets 
 fat, that 's another distressing phase of my 
 trouble, let me say. I seem to be gifted with a 
 prophetic eye in the midst of my transports "
 
 MASON TALKS AGAIN 
 
 " Think of you in a transport ! " 
 
 " I am able to see just how each one will 
 change, how this pretty plumpness will get fat, 
 how this delicate slimness will get bony. I see 
 how this beautiful alert face will get beakish. In 
 other words I am troubled about the future, 
 when I should be involved only in the ecstasy of 
 the present. In this latest case I see excessive 
 plumpness and chatter in ten years. I see my 
 self bored to death with her within ten months. 
 She is at her best now; in striving to win me she 
 is like a female bird, her plumage is at its best; she 
 will grow dowdy when the incentive is gone. 
 
 " There are other considerations. Aurelia, 
 too, has exaggerated notions of my power to 
 earn money. She may expect me to maintain 
 an expensive establishment. I can 't ask any 
 thing of the political pirate, her father; I 
 can only put my income into the treasury. If 
 my power to earn money decreases, as it may, 
 then I become an object of contempt on the 
 part of the old savage, who considers money the 
 measure of ability. Suppose at last I come to 
 the point of borrowing money, of going to the 
 old man humbly, twisting my hat in my hand: 
 ' My dear sir, Aurelia and the children ' 
 Pah ! " 
 
 He uttered a sound of disgust and anger and 
 fell silent. 
 
 Sanburn mused, " I wonder if the lovers of
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 any other age had any such scruples about mar 
 riage. I guess you 're right about Aurelia, but 
 I do n't believe you are about the sculptress. I 
 think she would make you happy." 
 
 Mason mused a moment and then went on : 
 
 "Well, now, as to that marry her and we 
 plunge, inside of two years, into a squalid struggle 
 for bread and coal and a roof. I elect myself at 
 once into the ranks of dray-horses, and, as I said 
 before, I chain a genius to the neck-yoke with 
 me. That is also out of the question." 
 
 Sanborn sought his hat. 
 
 " Well, Mason, this has been a season of plain 
 speaking. I 'd feel pretty bad over it if I 
 thought it was real. When you get the whole 
 thing typewritten I should like to read it to 
 Isabel and Rose." 
 
 Mason's face did not change, but he failed to 
 look at his friend. He said quietly : 
 
 " Isabel would n't read it; the girl might pos 
 sibly find something in it of value. Good night; 
 you 've listened like a martyr." 
 
 " Do n't fail to write that out while it 's fresh 
 in your mind. Good night," said Sanborn. 
 
 His last glance as he closed the door fell 
 upon a lonely figure lying in a low chair be 
 fore the fire, and he pitied him. Mason seemed 
 " the great irresolute " which Isabel believed him 
 to be ; helpless to do, patient to suffer. 
 
 320
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 SOCIAL QUESTIONS 
 
 The social world seemed about to open to 
 the cou!6 girl. At Mrs. Harvey's she called, 
 and behold ! her house was but one street 
 removed from the Lake Shore Drive, on which 
 she had stood that September day. It was a 
 home of comfort rather than of wealth, not at 
 all ostentatious, and yet its elegance troubled 
 Rose not a little. 
 
 She knew values by instinct, and she knew 
 there was nothing shoddy and nothing carelessly 
 purchased in the room. The Harveys were 
 envied by some of their wealthier neighbors for 
 the harmoniousness of their house. They con 
 trived to make their furniture distinguish itself 
 from a down-town stock which requires taste in 
 selection, and arrangement as well. 
 
 Rose heard voices above, and soon Mrs. 
 Harvey and Isabel came down together. Rose 
 was glad of her friend's presence it made it 
 easier for her. 
 
 After hearty greetings from Mrs. Harvey they 
 all sat down and Mrs. Harvey said: 
 321
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "I 'm glad you came over. We Isabel and 
 I feel that we should do something for you 
 socially. I would like to have you come over 
 some Wednesday and pour tea for me. It 's just 
 my afternoon at home, and friends drop in and 
 chatter a little while; perhaps you 'd enjoy it." 
 
 "O, you're very kind!" Rose said, dimly 
 divining that this was a valuable privilege, "but 
 I really could n't do it. I I 'm not up to that." 
 
 " O, yes, you are. You 'd look like a paint 
 ing by Boldini up against that tapestry, with 
 your hair brought low, the way you wore it con 
 cert night." 
 
 Isabel put in a word. " It is n't anything to 
 scare you, Rose. It 's hardly more formal than 
 at college, only there won't be any men. It will 
 introduce you to some nice girls, and we '11 make 
 it as easy for you as we can." 
 
 "O, yes, indeed; you can sit at the table with 
 Isabel." 
 
 " O, it is n't that," Rose said, looking down. 
 " I have n't anything suitable to wear." She 
 went on quickly, as if to put an end to the whole 
 matter. " I 'm a farmer's girl living on five 
 hundred dollars a year, and I can 't afford fifty 
 dollar dresses. I have n't found out any way to 
 earn money, and I can 't ask my father to buy 
 me clothes to wear at teas. You all are very 
 kind to me, but I must tell you that it 's all out 
 of my reach." 
 
 322
 
 SOCIAL QUESTIONS 
 
 The other women looked at each other while 
 Rose hurried through this. Mrs. Harvey was 
 prepared at the close : 
 
 "There, now, my dear! don't let that 
 trouble you. Any simple little gown will do." 
 
 " It 's out of the question, Mrs. Harvey, until 
 I can buy my own dresses. I can 't ask my 
 father to buy anything more than is strictly 
 necessary." 
 
 There was a note in her voice which seemed to 
 settle the matter. 
 
 Isabel said, " Perhaps you have something 
 made up that will do. Won't you let me see 
 what you have ? Certainly the dress you wore 
 at the concert became you well." 
 
 " If you have anything that could be altered," 
 Mrs. Harvey said, " I have a dressmaker in the 
 house now. She could easily do what you need. 
 She's looking over my wardrobe." 
 
 Rose shook her head, and the tears came to 
 her eyes. 
 
 " You 're very, very kind, but it would n't do 
 any good. Suppose I got a dress suitable for this 
 afternoon, it would n't help much. It's impos 
 sible. I 'd better keep in the background where 
 I belong." 
 
 She stubbornly held to this position and 
 Mrs. Harvey reluctantly gave up her plans to do 
 something for her socially. 
 
 Rose had come to see how impossible it was 
 
 323
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 for her to take part in the society world, which 
 Isabel and Mrs. Harvey made possible to her. 
 The winter was thickening with balls and par 
 ties; the society columns of the Sunday papers 
 were full of " events past," and " events to come." 
 Sometimes she wished she might see that life, at 
 other times she cared little. One day, when 
 calling upon Isabel, she said suddenly : 
 
 "Do you know how my father earned the 
 money which I spend for board ? He gets up 
 in the morning, before any one else, to feed the 
 cattle and work in the garden and take care of 
 the horses. He wears old, faded clothes, and 
 his hands are hard and crooked, and tremble 
 when he raises his tea " 
 
 She stopped and broke into a moan "O, it 
 makes my heart ache to think of him alone up 
 there ! If you can help me to earn a living I 
 will bless you. What can I do ? I thought I 
 was right, but Mr. Mason made me feel all 
 wrong. I 'm discouraged now ; why was I 
 born ? " 
 
 Isabel waited until her storm of emotion 
 passed, then she said: 
 
 "Do n't be discouraged yet, and do n't be in 
 haste to succeed. You are only beginning to 
 think about your place in the economy of 
 things. You are costing your father but little 
 now, and he does not grudge it ; besides, all 
 .this is a part of your education. Wait a year 
 
 324
 
 SOCIAL QUESTIONS 
 
 and then we will see what you had better do 
 to earn a living." 
 
 They were in her library and Rose sat with 
 her hat on ready to go back to her boarding 
 house. Isabel went on, after a time spent in 
 thought: 
 
 " Now the social question is not so hopeless 
 as you think. There are plenty of select fine 
 places for you to go without a swagger gown. 
 Of course, there is a very small circle here in 
 Chicago which tries to be ultra-fashionable, but 
 it 's rather difficult because Chicago men have 
 something else to do and won't be dragooned 
 into studying Ward McAllister. You '11 find 
 the people here mostly good, sensible people, 
 like the Harveys, who '11 enjoy you in any 
 nice, quiet dress. You can meet them in 
 formally at dinner or at their little Sunday 
 evening in. So do n't you take any more trouble 
 about it," she ended, " and you need n't pay 
 me for the lecture either." 
 
 Rose answered her with smiles: 
 
 " I wish I could feel I wish I did n't care a 
 cent about it, but I do. I do n't like to feel 
 shut out of any place. I feel the equal of any 
 I one ; I was brought up that way, and I do n't 
 like to be on the outside of anything. That 's 
 a dreadful thing to say, I suppose, but that 's 
 the way I feel." 
 
 " I 'm not going to quarrel with you about 
 
 325
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 the depth of your depravity; but I assure you 
 there is no circle in Chicago worth knowing 
 which will shut you out because you are a poor 
 girl. Thank heaven, we have not reached to 
 that point yet. And now about your writing. 
 I believe in you. I liked those verses, though 
 I may not be an acute critic Mr. Mason says 
 I 'm a conservative, and he 's probably right. 
 He says you should write as you talk. He told 
 me you had remarkable power in suggesting 
 images to the mind, but in your verse the 
 images were all second-hand. He believes 
 you '11 come to your own themes and style 
 soon." 
 
 " I hope so." Her answer was rather spirit 
 less in tone. 
 
 " There 's another thing, Rose. You 're go 
 ing to have suitors here in Chicago, and fine 
 ones too. May I talk with you about that?" 
 
 Rose flushed deeply and her eyes fell ; she 
 was a little incoherent. 
 
 " Why, yes I do n't see any reason there 
 is n't any need of secrecy." 
 
 Isabel studied her from a little distance. 
 
 " Rose, tell me: how is it that you did n't 
 marry young, as so many poor girls do ? " 
 
 Rose considered a moment: 
 
 "I hardly know myself." 
 
 "You had lovers, always?" 
 
 " Yes, always." 
 
 326
 
 SOCIAL QUESTIONS 
 
 " And you had fancies, too ? " 
 "O yes, as all girls do, I suppose." 
 "Why did n't you marry one of these?" 
 "Well, for one reason, they did n't please 
 me well enough I mean long enough. They 
 grew tiresome after awhile ; and then I was 
 ambitious, I wanted to get out into the world. 
 I could n't marry some one who would bind me 
 down to the cook-stove all my life, and then I 
 had my ideals of what a man should be and, 
 some way, the boys did n't interest me after 
 awhile." 
 
 " I think I understand that. You 're going 
 to marry some time, of course." 
 
 Rose looked down: "Why, yes, I suppose 
 so most girls do." 
 
 " Do n't think I 'm impertinent, will you, but 
 is there any are you bound to any one?" 
 Rose lifted her face. 
 " No, I am as free as any woman." 
 "I 'm glad of that, Rose. I was afraid you 
 might be half-engaged to some one in the 
 college or back in the valley. It makes it very 
 fine and simple if you can enter your wider life 
 here, free. You are sure to marry, and you 
 ought to marry well." 
 
 Rose replied a little disgustedly : 
 " I hate to think of marrying for a home, and 
 I hate to think of marrying as a profession. 
 Writers accuse us of thinking of nothing else, 
 
 3 2 7
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 and I get sick and tired of the whole thing. I 
 wish I was just a plain animal or had no sex at 
 all. Sometimes I think it is a curse to be a 
 woman." She ended fierce and sullen. 
 
 Isabel shrank a little: 
 
 " O do n't be too hard on me, Rose ! I did n't 
 mean to anger you." 
 
 " I 'm not angry ; the things I want to say I 
 can 't seem to say. It is n't your fault or mine. 
 It's just fate. I hate to think of 'marrying 
 well'" 
 
 " I think I understand," Isabel said, a little 
 appalled at the storm she had raised. "I haven't 
 been troubled by that question because I have a 
 profession, and have something to think about 
 besides marriage, and still we must think about 
 it enough to prepare for it. The world must 
 have its wives and mothers. You are to be a 
 wife and mother, you are fitted for it by nature. 
 Men see that that is the reason you are never 
 without suitors. All I was going to say, dear, 
 was this : you are worthy the finest and truest 
 man, for you have a great career, I feel sure of 
 it and so but no, I '11 not lecture you an 
 other minute. You 're a stronger woman than I 
 ever was, and I feel you can take care of your 
 self." 
 
 "That's just it. I don't feel sure of that 
 yet. I feel dependent upon my father and I 
 ought not to be; I 'm out of school, I 'm twen- 
 328
 
 SOCIAL QUESTIONS 
 
 ty-three years of age, and I want to do some 
 thing. I must do something and I don't 
 want to marry as a as a because I am a 
 failure." 
 
 " Nobody wants you to do that, Rose. But 
 you didn't mean that exactly. You mean you 
 did n't want to come to any man dependent. I 
 do n't think you will ; you '11 find out your best 
 holt, as the men say, and you '11 succeed." 
 
 Rose looked at her in silence a moment : 
 
 " I 'm going to confess something," she 
 finally said with a little laugh. " I hate to keep 
 house. I hate to sew, and I can 't marry a man 
 who wants me to do the way other women do. 
 I must be intended for something else than a 
 housewife, because I never do a bit of cooking 
 or sewing without groaning. I like to paint 
 fences and paper walls; but I 'm not in the least 
 domestic." 
 
 Isabel was amused at the serious tone in 
 which Rose spoke. 
 
 " There is one primal event which can change 
 all that. I 've seen it transform a score of wo 
 men. It will make you domestic and will turn 
 sewing into a delight." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Rose, though 
 more than half guessing. 
 
 " I mean motherhood." 
 
 The girl shrank, and sat silent, as if a doom 
 had been pronounced upon her. 
 
 329
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " That is what marriage must mean to you 
 and to me," Isabel said, and her face had an 
 exultant light in it. " I love my profession I 
 am ambitious in it, but I could bear to give it 
 all up a hundred times over, rather than my hope 
 ^of being a mother." 
 
 The girl was awed almost into whispering. 
 
 " Does it mean that will it take away your 
 power as a physician?" 
 
 " No, that 's the best of it these days. If a 
 woman has brains and a good man for a hus- , 
 band, it broadens her powers. I feel that Dr. 
 Sanborn and I will be better physicians by 
 being father and mother. O, those are great 
 words, Rose! Let me tell you they are broader 
 than poet or painter, deeper than wife or hus 
 band. I 've wanted to say these things to you, 
 Rose. You 've escaped reckless marriage some 
 way, now let me warn you against an ambitious 
 marriage " 
 
 She broke off suddenly. "No, I'll stop. 
 You 've taken care of yourself so far; it would be 
 strange if you could n't now." She turned 
 quickly and went to Rose. " I love you," she 
 said. "We are spiritual sisters, I felt that the 
 day you crushed me. I like women who do not 
 cry. I want you to forgive me for lecturing 
 you, and I want you to go on following the lead 
 of your mysterious guide; I do n't know what it 
 is or, rather, who he is " 
 
 33
 
 SOCIAL QUESTIONS 
 
 She stopped suddenly, and seating herself on 
 the arm of Rose's chair, smiled. 
 
 " I believe it is a man, somewhere. Come 
 now, confess who is he?" 
 
 Quick as light the form and face of William 
 De Lisle came into Rose's thought, and she said: 
 
 " He 's a circus rider." 
 
 Isabel unclasped Rose's arm and faced her. 
 
 " A circus rider! " 
 
 Rose colored hotly and looked away. 
 
 "I can't tell you about it you'd laugh 
 and well, I do n't care to explain." 
 
 Isabel looked at her with comical gravity. 
 
 " Do you know what you 've done, ' coolly ' 
 girl ? You know the common opinion of 
 woman's curiosity? I do n't believe a woman is 
 a bit more curious than a man, only a woman is 
 curious about things he is n't. I 'm suffering 
 agonies this minute. You know I 'm an alienist. 
 I 've studied mad people so much I know just 
 what sends them off. You 've started me. If 
 you do n't explain at once " She went to the 
 door and called, " Etta! Do n't disturb me, no 
 matter who comes." 
 
 " Now tell me about it," she said, as she sat 
 down beside Rose and studied her with avid eyes. 
 
 " Why, it 's nothing," Rose began. " I never 
 spoke to him, and he never even saw me, and I 
 never saw him but once " 
 
 "And yet he influenced your whole life?"
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Rose mused a moment: 
 
 " Yes, I can see it now I never realized it 
 before he has helped me all my life." 
 
 She told of her first sight of him, of her long 
 ride home, of her thoughts of him, reserving 
 something, of course, and her voice grew husky 
 with remembered emotion. She uttered more 
 than she knew. She showed the keen little 
 woman at her side the more imaginative side of 
 her nature. It became evident to Isabel that the 
 beautiful poise of the head and supple swing of 
 the girl's body was in part due to the suggestion 
 of the man's perfect grace. His idealized face 
 had made the commonplace apparent had led 
 her, lifted her. 
 
 " Why, it 's all a poem! " she exclaimed at the 
 end. " It 's magnificent; and you thought I 'd 
 laugh!" She looked reproachful. "I think it's 
 incredibly beautiful. What was his name? We 
 may meet him some time " 
 
 Rose drew back and grew hot with a blush. 
 
 " Oh, no I do n't want to see him now. I 'm 
 afraid he would n't seem the same to me now." 
 
 Isabel considered. "You're right! He never 
 really existed. He was a product of your own 
 clean, sweet imagination, but let me tell you " 
 she made a swift feminine turn to the trivial, 
 " You '11 marry a tall, lathy man, or a short, dumpy 
 man. That's the way things go. Really, I'll 
 need to keep Doctor and Mason out of the house." 
 
 332
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 In quiet wise her winter wore on. In a 
 month or two the home feeling began to make 
 itself felt, and the city grew less appalling, 
 though hardly less oppressive. There were mo 
 ments when it seemed the most splendid pres 
 ence in the world) at sunset, when 'the river 
 was crowded with shipping and the great build 
 ings loomed up blue as wood-smoke, almost 
 translucent ; when the brick walls grew wine- 
 colored ; when the river was flooded with radi 
 ance from the western sun, and the great steam 
 ers lay like birds wearied and dreaming after a 
 long journey. 
 
 Sometimes, too, at night, when she came out 
 of the concert hall and saw the glittering twin 
 tiaras of burning gold which the Great Northern 
 towers held against the blue-black, starless sky, 
 two hundred feel above the pavement ; or when 
 in the early evening she approached the moun 
 tainous Temple, luminous and sparkling with 
 electric lights, lifting a lighted dome as airy as 
 a bubble three hundred feet into the pale sap 
 phire of the cloudless sky the city grew lofty. 
 
 333
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 The gross, the confused in line, the prosy in 
 color, disappeared at such moments, and the 
 city, always vast, took on grace and charm and 
 softened to magnificence; became epic, express 
 ing in prophecy that which it must attain to; 
 expressed the swift coming in of art and poetry 
 in the lives of the western world-builders. 
 
 She grew with it all ; it deepened her con 
 ception of life, but she could not write of it for 
 the reason that it was too near and too multiple 
 in its appeal upon her. She strove daily to ar 
 range it in her mind, to put it into form, and 
 this striving wore upon her severely. She lost 
 some of her superb color and physical elasticity 
 because of it, and became each week a little less 
 distinctive exteriorly, which was a decided loss, 
 Mason told Isabel. 
 
 "She isn't losing anything very real," Isabel 
 said. " She's just as unaccountable as ever. She 
 goes out much less than you imagine. I take 
 her out, and send her, all I can to keep her from 
 getting morbid. Why do n't you come oftener 
 and help me ? " 
 
 " Self-protection," said Mason. 
 
 "Are you afraid of a country girl?" 
 
 " O, no afraid of myself." 
 
 " How much do you mean of that, Warren ? " 
 
 "All of it." 
 
 She wrinkled her brow in disgust of his con 
 cealing candor. 
 
 334
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 " O,you are impossible in that mood!" 
 
 As the winter deepened Rose narrowed the 
 circle of conquest. She no longer thought of 
 conquering the world; it came to be the question 
 of winning the approbation of one human soul. 
 That is, she wished to win the approbation of 
 the world in order that Warren Mason might 
 smile and say " Well done!" 
 
 She did not reach this state of mind smoothly 
 and easily. On the contrary, she had moments 
 when she rebelled at the thought of any man's 
 opinion being the greatest good in the world to 
 her. She rebelled at the implied inferiority of 
 her position in relation to him and also at the 
 physical bondage implied. In the morning 
 when she was strong, in the midst of some social 
 success, when people swarmed about her and 
 men bent deferentially, then she held herself 
 like a soldier on a tower defying capture. 
 
 But at night, when the lights were all out, 
 when she felt her essential loneliness and weak 
 ness, and need when the world seemed cold and 
 cruel and selfish, then it seemed as if the sweet 
 est thing in the universe would be to have him 
 open his arms and say "Come!" 
 
 There would be rest there and repose. His 
 judgment, his keen wit, his penetrating, power 
 ful influence, made him seem a giant to her, a 
 giant who disdained effort and gave out an 
 appearance of indifference and lassitude. She 
 
 335
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 had known physical giants in her neighborhood 
 who spoke in soft drawl, and slouched lazily 
 in action, but who were invincible when 
 aroused. 
 
 She imagined she perceived in Mason a 
 mental giant, who assumed irresolution and weak 
 ness for reasons of his own. He was always off 
 duty when she saw him, and bent more upon 
 rest than a display of power. Once or twice she 
 saw him roused, and it thrilled her ; that meas 
 ured lazy roll of voice changed to a quick, stern 
 snarl, the brows lowered and the big, plump face 
 took on battle lines. It was like a seemingly 
 shallow pool suddenly disclosed to be of sound 
 less depths by a wind of passion. 
 
 The lake had been the refuge of the distracted 
 and restless girl. She went to it often in the 
 autumn days, for it rested her from the noise of 
 grinding wheels, and screams and yells. Its 
 smooth rise and fall, its sparkle of white-caps, its 
 sailing gulls, filled her with delicious pleasure. 
 It soothed her and it roused her also. It gave 
 her time to think. 
 
 The street disturbed her, left her purposeless 
 and powerless, but out there where the ships 
 floated like shadows, and shadows shifted like 
 flame, and the wind was keen and sweet there 
 she could get her mental breath again. She 
 watched it change to wintry desolation, till it 
 grew empty of vessels and was lonely as the 
 
 336
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 $ 
 
 Arctic sea, and always it was grand and thought- 
 inspiring. 
 
 She went out one day in March when the 
 home longing was upon her and when it seemed 
 that the city would be her death. She was tired 
 of her food, tired of Mary, tired of her room. 
 Her forehead was knotted tensely with pain of 
 life and love 
 
 She cried out with sudden joy, for she had 
 never seen the lake more beautiful. Near the 
 shore a great mass of churned and heaving ice 
 and snow lay like a robe of shaggy fur. Beyond 
 this the deep water spread, a vivid pea-green 
 broken by wide, irregular strips of dark purple. 
 In the open water by the wall a spatter of steel- 
 blue lay like the petals of some strange flower, 
 scattered upon the green. 
 
 Great splendid clouds developed, marvel- 
 ously like the clouds of June, making the girl's 
 heart swell with memories of summer. They 
 were white as wool, these mountainous clouds, 
 and bottomed in violet, and as they passed 
 the snow-fields they sent down pink-purple, 
 misty shadows, which trailed away in splendor 
 toward the green which flamed in bewildering 
 beauty beyond. The girl sat like one in a 
 dream while the wind blew the green and pur 
 ple of the outer sea into fantastic, flitting forms 
 which dazzled her eyes like the stream of min 
 gled banners. 
 
 337
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Each form seemed more beautiful than the 
 preceding one ; each combination had such un 
 earthly radiance, her heart ached with exquisite 
 sorrow to see it vanish. The girl felt that 
 spring was coming on the wing of the southern 
 wind, and the desire to utter her passion grew 
 almost into pain. 
 
 It had other moods, this mighty spread of 
 water. It could be angry, dangerous. Some 
 times it rolled sullenly, and convoluted in oily 
 surges beneath its coverlid of snow, like a bed of 
 monstrous serpents. Sometimes the leaden sky 
 shut down over it, and from the desolate north 
 east a snowstorm rushed, hissing and howling. 
 Sometimes it slumbered for days, quiet as a 
 sleeping boa, then awoke and was a presence and 
 a voice in the night, fit to make the hardiest 
 tremble. 
 
 Rose saw it when it was roused, but she had 
 yet to see it in a frenzy. The knowledge of its 
 worst came to her early in May, just before her 
 return to the coule". 
 
 The day broke with the wind in the north 
 east. Rose, lying in her bed, could hear the 
 roar of the lake ; never before had its voice 
 penetrated so far. She sprang up and dressed, 
 eager to see it in such a mood. Mary responded 
 sleepily to her call, saying the lake would be 
 there after breakfast. 
 
 Rose did not regret her eagerness, though it 
 
 338
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 was piercingly cold and raw. The sea was 
 already terrific. Its spread of tawny yellow 
 showed how it had reached down and laid hold 
 on the sand of its bed. There were oily splotches 
 of plum-color scattered over it where the wind 
 blew it smooth and it reached to the wild east 
 sky, cold, desolate, destructive. 
 
 It had a fierce, breathing snarl like a monster 
 at meat. It leaped against the sea-wall like a 
 rabid tiger, its sleek and spotted hide rolling. 
 Every surge sent a triangular sheet of foam 
 twenty-five feet above the wall, yellow and 
 white, and shadowed with dull blue; and the 
 wind caught it as it rose, and its crest burst into 
 great clouds of spray, which sailed across the 
 streets and dashed along the walk like rain, 
 making the roadway like a river; while the main 
 body of each up-leaping wave,falling back astride 
 the wall, crashed like the fall of glass, and the 
 next wave met it with a growl of thunderous 
 rage, striking it with concave palm, with a sound 
 like a cannon's exploding roar. 
 
 Out of the appalling obscurity to the north 
 frightened ships scudded at intervals with bare 
 masts bending like fire-trimmed pines. They 
 hastened like homing pigeons which do not 
 look behind. The helmsmen stood grimly at 
 their wheels, with eyes on the harbor ahead. 
 
 The girl felt it all as no one native to the sea 
 can possibly do. It seemed as if the bounds of 
 
 339
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 the flood had been overcome, and that it was 
 about to hurl itself upon the land. The slender 
 trees, standing deep in the swash of water, bowed 
 like women in pain; the wall was half hidden, 
 and the flood and the land seemed mingled in 
 battle. 
 
 Rose walked along the shore, too much ex 
 cited to go back to her breakfast. At noon 
 she ate lunch hurriedly and returned to the 
 shore. There were hundreds of people coming 
 and going along the drive ; young girls shriek 
 ing with glee, as the sailing clouds of spray fell 
 upon them. Rose felt angry to think they could 
 be so silly in face of such dreadful power. 
 
 She came upon Mason, dressed in a thick 
 mackintosh coat, taking notes rapidly in a little 
 book. He did not look up and she passed him, 
 wishing to speak, yet afraid to speak. Near him 
 a young man was sketching. 
 
 Mason stood like a rock in his long, close- 
 fitting raincoat, while she was blown nearly off 
 her feet by the blast. She came back against the 
 wind, feeling her soul's internal storm rising. It 
 seemed quite like a proposal of marriage to go 
 up and speak to him yet she could not forego 
 the pleasure. 
 
 He did not see her until she came into his 
 lee, then he smiled, extending his hand. She 
 spoke first : 
 
 "May I take shelter here ?" 
 
 340
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 His eyes lightened with a sudden tender 
 humor. 
 
 "Free anchorage," he said, and drew her by 
 the hand closer to his shoulder. It was a beau 
 tiful moment to her, and a dangerous one to 
 him. He took refuge in outside matters. 
 
 "How does that strike your inland eyes?" 
 He pointed to the north. 
 
 "It's awful. It's like the anger of God." 
 She spoke into his bowed ear. 
 
 "Please don't think I'm reporting it," he ex 
 plained. " I'm only making a few notes about 
 it for an editorial on the need of harbors." Each 
 moment the fury increased, the waves deepened. 
 The commotion sank down amid the sands of 
 the deeper inshore water, and it boiled like milk. 
 Splendid colors grew into it near at hand ; the 
 winds tore at the tops of the waves, and wove 
 them into tawny banners which blurred the air 
 like blown sand. On the horizon the waves 
 leaped in savage ranks, clutching at the sky like 
 insane sea-monsters, frantic, futile. 
 
 "I've seen the Atlantic twice during a gale," 
 shouted the artist to a companion, "but I never 
 saw anything more awful than this. These waves 
 are quicker and higher. I do n't see how a 
 vessel could live in it if caught broadside." 
 
 "It 's the worst I ever saw here." 
 
 "I'm going down to the south side; would 
 you like to go ?" Mason asked of Rose.
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "I would, indeed," she replied. 
 
 Back from the lake shore the wind was less 
 powerful but more uncertain. It came in gusts 
 which nearly upturned the street cars. Men and 
 women scudded from shelter to shelter like be- 
 leagured citizens avoiding cannon shots. 
 
 "What makes our lake so terrible," said 
 Mason, in the car, " is the fact that it has a 
 smooth shore no indentations, no harbors. 
 There is only one harbor here at Chicago, behind 
 the breakwater, and every vessel in mid-lake 
 must come here. Those flying ships are seeking 
 safety here like birds. The harbor will be full 
 of disabled vessels." 
 
 As they left the car a roaring gust swept 
 around a twenty-story building with such power 
 Rose would have been taken off her feet had 
 not Mason put his arm about her shoulders. 
 
 "You're at a disadvantage," he said, "with 
 skirts." He knew she prided herself on her 
 strength, and he took no credit to himself for 
 standing where she fell. 
 
 It was precisely as if they were alone together: 
 the storm seemed to wall them in, and his man 
 ner was more intimate than ever before. It was 
 in very truth the first time they had been out 
 together, and also it was the only time he had 
 assumed any physical care of her. He had never 
 asserted his greater muscular power and mastery 
 of material things, and she was amazed to see 
 
 342
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 that his lethargy was only a mood. He could 
 be alert and agile at need. It made his cyni 
 cism appear to be a mood also; at least, it made 
 her heart wondrously light to think so. 
 
 They came upon the lake shore again, near 
 the Auditorium. The refuge behind the break 
 water was full of boats, straining at anchor, 
 rolling, pitching, crashing together. Close 
 about the edge of the breakwater ships were 
 rounding hurriedly, and two broken vessels lay 
 against the shore, threshing up and down in the 
 awful grasp of the breakers. Far down toward 
 the south the water dashed against the spiles, 
 shooting fifty feet above the wall, sailing like 
 smoke, deluging the street, and lashing against 
 the row of buildings across the way. 
 
 Mason's keen eye took in the situation : 
 
 "Every vessel that breaks anchor is doomed! 
 Nothing can keep them from going on shore. 
 Doubtless those two schooners lost anchor that 
 one there is dragging anchor." He said sud 
 denly, " She is shifting position, and see that 
 hulk " 
 
 Rose for a moment could not see it. She lay 
 flat on her side, a two-master, her sails flapping 
 and floating on the waves. Her anchor still held, 
 but she had listed her cargo, careened, and so 
 lay helpless. 
 
 "There are men on it!" cried some one. 
 
 343
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " Three men do n't you see them ? The water 
 goes over them every time ! " 
 
 " Sure enough 1 I wonder if they are going 
 to let them drown, here in the harbor ! " 
 
 Rose grew numb with horror. On the 
 rounded side of the floating hulk three men 
 were clinging, looking like pegs of tops. They 
 could only be seen at intervals, for the water 
 broke clear over their heads. It was only when 
 one of them began to move to and fro that the 
 mighty crowd became certainly aware of life 
 still clinging to the hull. 
 
 It was an awful thing to stand helplessly by, 
 and see those brave men battle, but no life-boat or 
 tug could live out there. In the station men 
 wept and imprecated in their despair twice 
 they tried to go to the rescue of the beleaguered 
 men, but could not reach them. 
 
 Suddenly a flare of yellow spread out on the 
 wave. A cry arose : 
 
 " She 's breaking up ! " 
 
 Rose seized Mason's arm in a frenzy of 
 horror. 
 
 " O God ! can 't somebody help them ?" 
 
 " They 're out of reach ! " said Mason 
 solemnly. And then the throng was silent. 
 
 "They are building a raft !" shouted a man 
 with a glass, speaking at intervals for the infor 
 mation of all. " One man is tying a rope to 
 planks . . . . he is helping the other men. . . . 
 
 344
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 he has his little raft nearly ready .... they are 
 crawling toward him " 
 
 " O see them ! " exclaimed Rose. " O the brave 
 men ! There ! they are gone the vessel has 
 broken up." 
 
 On the wave nothing now lived but a yellow 
 spread of lumber ; the glass revealed no living 
 thing. 
 
 Mason turned to Rose with a grave and ten 
 der look. 
 
 " You have seen human beings engulfed like 
 flies " 
 
 " No ! no ! There they are ! " shouted a hun 
 dred voices, as if in answer to Mason's thought. 
 
 Thereafter the whole great city seemed to be 
 watching those specks of human life, drifting 
 toward almost certain death upon the breakwater 
 of the south shore. For miles the beach was 
 clustered black with people. They stood there, 
 it seemed for hours, watching the slow approach 
 of that tiny raft. Again and again the waves 
 swept over it, and each time that indomitable 
 man rose from the flood and was seen to pull his 
 companions aboard. 
 
 Other vessels drifted upon the rocks. Other 
 steamers rolled heavily around the long break 
 water, but nothing now distracted the gaze of 
 the multitude from this appalling and amazing 
 struggle against death. Nothing ? No, once 
 and only once did the onlookers shift their in- 
 
 345
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 tent gaze, and that was when a vessel passed the 
 breakwater and went sailing toward the south 
 through the fleet of anchored, straining, agonized 
 ships. At first no one paid much attention to 
 this late-comer till Mason lifted his voice. 
 
 "By Heaven, the man is sailing /" 
 
 It was true ; steady, swift, undeviating, the 
 vessel headed through the fleet. She did not 
 drift nor wander nor hesitate. She sailed as if 
 the helmsman, with set teeth, were saying ; 
 
 "By God ! If I must die on the rocks, I'll 
 go to my death the captain of my vessel ! " 
 
 And so, with wheel in his hand and epic 
 oaths in his mouth, he sailed directly into the 
 long row of spiles, over which the waves ran 
 like hell-hounds ; where half a score of wrecks 
 lay already churning into fragments in the awful 
 tumult. 
 
 The sailing vessel seemed not to waver, nor 
 seek nor dodge - seemed rather to choose the 
 most deadly battle-place of waves and wall. 
 
 " God ! but that 's magnificent of him ! " Ma 
 son said to himself. 
 
 Rose held her breath, her face white and set 
 with horror. 
 
 " O must he die ? " 
 
 "There is no hope for him. She will strike 
 in a moment she strikes ! she is gone ! " 
 
 The vessel entered the grey confusion of the 
 .breakers and struck the piles like a battering 
 346
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 ram ; the waves buried her from sight ; then the 
 recoil flung her back; for the first time she swung 
 broadside to the storm. The work of the helms 
 man was over. She reeled resisted an instant, 
 then submitted to her fate, crumbled against the 
 pitiless wall like paper and thereafter was lost to 
 sight. 
 
 This dramatic and terrible scene had held 
 the attention of the onlookers once more 
 they searched for the tiny raft. It was nearing 
 the lake wall at another furious point of contact. 
 An innumerable crowd spread like a black robe 
 over the shore waiting to see the tiny float strike. 
 
 A hush fell over every voice. Each soul was 
 solemn as if facing the Maker of the world. 
 Out on the point, just where the doomed sailors 
 seemed like to strike, there was a little commo 
 tion. A tiny figure was seen perched on one of 
 the spiles. Each wave, as it towered above him, 
 seemed ready to sweep him away, but each time 
 he bowed his head and seemed to sweep through 
 the gray wall. He was a negro and he held a 
 rope in his hands. 
 
 As they comprehended his danger the crowd 
 cheered him, but in the thunder of the surf no 
 human voice could avail. The bold negro could 
 not cry out, he could only motion, but the brave 
 man on the raft saw his purpose he was alone 
 with the shipwrecked ones. 
 
 In they came, lifted and hurled by a prodi- 
 
 347
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 gious swell. They struck the wall just beneath 
 the negro and disappeared beneath the waves. 
 
 All seemed over, and some of the spectators 
 fell weeping; others turned away. 
 
 Suddenly the indomitable commander of the 
 raft rose, then his companions, and then it was 
 perceived that he had bound them all to the raft. 
 
 The negro flung his rope and one man caught 
 at it, but it was swept out of reach on a back 
 ward leaping billow. Again they came in, their 
 white, strained, set faces and wild eyes turned to 
 the intrepid rescuer. Again they struck, and 
 this time the negro caught and held one of the 
 sailors, held him while the foam fell away, and 
 the succeeding wave swept him over the spiles to 
 safety. Again the resolute man flung his noose 
 and caught the second sailor, whose rope was 
 cut by the leader, the captain, who was last to be 
 saved. 
 
 As the negro came back, dragging his third 
 man over the wall, a mighty cry went up, a 
 strange, faint, multitudinous cry, and the negro 
 was swallowed up in the multitude. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Mason turned to Rose and spoke: "Some 
 times men seem to be worth while!" 
 
 Rose was still clinging to his arm as they 
 walked away. Mason did not speak again for 
 some time. 
 
 " We have suffered in vain," he said at last, 
 
 348
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 " and you are cold and stiffened with long 
 standing. Let me put you in a cab and " 
 
 "Oh, no, thank you! The walk will do me 
 good." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right. I '11 go with you to 
 the car, and then I must go to my desk for six 
 hours of hard work. Put this behind you," he 
 said tenderly. " It does no good to suffer over 
 the inevitable. Forget those men!" 
 
 "I can't! I shall never forget them while I 
 live. It was awful!" She shuddered, but when 
 she looked into his face she nearly cried out in 
 astonishment at the light in his eyes. 
 
 " It had its grandeur. They went to their 
 death like men. They have taught me a lesson. 
 Hitherto I have drifted henceforth / sail! " 
 He bent to her with a mystical smile. 
 
 She drew away in a sort of awe as if she 
 looked unworthily upon a sacred place. He mis 
 understood her action and said, " Do n't be 
 afraid. I have something to say to you, but 
 not here; perhaps I '11 write it. When do you go?" 
 
 " On Saturday." 
 
 " I will write you soon. Good bye." 
 
 She watched him as he moved away into 
 the crowd, with powerful erect body the desk- 
 man's droop almost gone out of his shoulders. 
 What did he mean? 
 
 She was standing waiting for a chance to 
 board a car when Elbert Harvey came pushing 
 
 349
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 along against the wind, fresh and strong and 
 glowing with color like a girl. 
 
 " O, I 've been looking for you, Rose," he 
 said. " I was at your house. They said you 
 were over on the lake front and so See here! 
 You 're all wet and cold. I 'm going to get a 
 carriage." 
 
 He would not be gainsaid, and she was 
 really glad to escape the crowd in the car. He 
 said: " I 'm going to take you home to get warm." 
 
 She allowed herself to be driven to the door 
 before she realized what it might be taken to 
 mean, but it was then too late to insist on being 
 driven home, it would do no harm to see Mrs. 
 Harvey for a moment and then she was so 
 tired, too tired to resist. 
 
 Mrs. Harvey met her in the hall, smiling and 
 scolding: 
 
 "Why, you reckless girl! Have you been 
 down town? Elbert, where did you get her?" 
 
 " I found her on the street waiting for a State 
 street car shivering, too." 
 
 "Why, you're all wet! Come up to my room 
 and change your shoes." 
 
 The warm air and the glow of the beautiful 
 rooms seemed to narcotize her, and Rose allowed 
 herself to be led away like a sleepy child. It 
 was delicious to be so attended. Mrs. Harvey 
 took her to her own room, a room as big and 
 comfortable and home-y as herself, and there she 
 
 35
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 put Rose down before the grateful fire and rang 
 for her maid. 
 
 "Annette, remove Mademoiselle's shoes and 
 give her some slippers." 
 
 The deft girl removed Rose's wraps, then her 
 shoes, while Mrs. Harvey knelt by her side and 
 felt of her stocking soles. 
 
 " They 're wet, just as I expected." She said 
 joyfully, "Take them off!" 
 
 " O, no! They '11 dry in a minute." 
 
 " Take them off , Annette," commanded Mrs. 
 Harvey. "O,what lovely feet and ankles!" she 
 said, and so betrayed her not too subtle design to 
 Rose. 
 
 Rose was passive now, and yielded to the 
 manipulations of the two women. They all had 
 a gale of fun over the difference between Mrs. 
 Harvey's stockings and her own, and then they 
 brought out a fantastic pair of slippers and a 
 beautiful wrap, which Mrs. Harvey insisted upon 
 putting about her. 
 
 At about this time Elbert knocked on the door. 
 
 " Can 't I come in and share the fun, Caro 
 line ? " 
 
 "In a moment!" she replied, and finished 
 tucking the robe about Rose. " Now you may." 
 
 Elbert came in, radiant, unabashed, smiling, 
 almost grinning his delight. He had changed 
 his dress to a neat and exquisitely fitting dark 
 suit, and he looked very handsome indeed. His 
 
 351
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 cheeks were like peaches, with much the same 
 sort of fuzz over them. 
 
 He took a place near the fire where he could 
 see Rose, and he signaled to his mother at the 
 earliest chance that she was stunning. 
 
 Rose lay back in the chair with the robe 
 drawn about her, looking the grande dame from 
 her crown of hair to the tasseled toes of her slip 
 pers. She might almost have been Colombe on 
 the eve of her birthday. 
 
 It was delicious, and she had not heart or 
 resolution at the moment to throw off this hom 
 age. She knew that Mrs. Harvey was misread 
 ing her acquiescence, and that every moment 
 she submitted to her care and motherly direc 
 tion, involved her, enmeshed her. But it was so 
 delicious to be a princess and an heiress for 
 an hour. 
 
 The whole situation was intensified when Mr. 
 Harvey's soft tenor voice called : 
 
 " Where is everybody ? " 
 
 " Come up ; here we are! There 's somebody 
 here you '11 want to see." 
 
 Mr. Harvey came in smiling, looking as calm 
 and contained as if he were just risen from sleep. 
 He was almost as exquisitely dressed as his son. 
 
 " Well ! well ! This is a pleasure," he cor 
 dially exclaimed. " What 's the meaning of the 
 wrap ; not sick ? " 
 
 " Elbert picked her up on the street, wet and 
 
 352
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 shivering, waiting for a car, and brought her 
 home." 
 
 " Quite right. We 're always glad to see you. 
 Did you give her a little cordial, Caroline? In 
 case of cold " 
 
 Rose protested. " I'm not sick, Mr. Harvey, 
 only tired. I 've been out all the day watching 
 the dreadful storm. I saw those ships go on the 
 rocks. O, it was dreadful!" 
 
 "Did you see the three men on the raft?" 
 asked Elbert. 
 
 Rose shuddered. How far away she was 
 from that cold, gray tumult of water. Of what 
 manner of men were they who could battle so 
 for hours in the freezing sleet ? 
 
 "Well, now, we won't talk about the storm 
 any more," Mrs. Harvey interposed. " It does 
 no good, and Rose has had too much of it 
 already. Besides, it 's almost dinner time, Mr. 
 Harvey. Go dress!" 
 
 There was not a thread ruffled on Mr. Harvey's 
 person, but he dutifully withdrew. He had had 
 a busy day, and had transacted business which 
 affected whole states by its influence, yet he was 
 quiet, cordial, exquisite. 
 
 "What does this mean, my dear?" he asked 
 of Mrs. Harvey, who followed him out. 
 
 "It may mean a great deal, Willis," she said. 
 "All I know is Elbert brought her home, his 
 eyes shining with delight." 
 
 353
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "Not to be wondered at," Mr. Harvey re 
 plied. " I'm only afraid of actresses," he added 
 a little incoherently, but his wife understood him. 
 
 Elbert was not lacking in adroitness. He 
 did not presume on his position during his 
 mother's absence. He remained standing in the 
 same position. 
 
 " How do you like coddling ? Now, you see 
 what I get when I dare to sneeze. Caroline 
 will coddle any one into regular sickness if you 
 let her." 
 
 "I was chilled, but I am not sick in the 
 least." 
 
 " You 'd better straighten up and shout at 
 her when she comes in, or she '11 be for sending 
 your dinner up to you, and I do n't want that." 
 
 "O, I must go home, now." 
 
 "Not till after dinner." 
 
 "I 'm not dressed for dinner." 
 
 "There 's nobody here but ourselves. You 
 must stay." 
 
 Every one seemed determined to press her 
 into a false position, and there was so little 
 chance to throw the influence off. 
 
 She rose out of her cloak, and when Mrs. 
 Harvey came back she was standing before the 
 fire with Elbert which seemed also to be signif 
 icant. 
 
 "Caroline, do n't coddle Rose any more; 
 she 's all right." 
 
 354
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 Mrs. Harvey accepted this command, because 
 it argued a sense of proprietorship on her son's 
 part. 
 
 They continued this intimate talk during the 
 dinner. Elbert took her down and placed her 
 near him. There were a couple of elderly ladies, 
 sisters of Mr. Harvey, who sat also at table in a 
 shadowy way, and Rose divined in a flash of im 
 aginative intelligence how they subordinated 
 ' themselves because they were dependent. 
 "Would I grow like that as I grew old?" was her 
 thought. 
 
 At the table she felt it her duty to rouse her 
 self to talk, and she took part in the jolly patter 
 between Elbert and his mother. Their camara 
 derie was very charming so charming one 
 almost forgot the irreverence expressed by his 
 use of " Caroline." 
 
 After dinner Mrs. Emma Seymour Gallup, 
 whom Rose had met two or three times but who 
 always demanded a new introduction, came 
 whisking in on her way to some party. She 
 had everything in decidedly the latest crimp. 
 Her sleeves did not fit ; her hips seemed enor 
 mous; her bonnet seemed split on the middle 
 of her head, and was symmetrically decked with 
 bows of ribbon and glitter and glimmer. Her 
 real proportions were only to be divined at the 
 waist, all else was fibre-cloth and conjecture. 
 
 Her eyes were bright and her face cold and 
 
 355
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 imperious. She had once before chilled Rose 
 with a cold nod and insulting shift of shoulder. 
 She was plainly surprised to see Rose in the 
 bosom of this family, and she seized the only 
 plausible explanation with instant readiness and 
 smiled a beautiful smile, and Rose could not 
 help seeing that she had a very charming face 
 after all. 
 
 "Ah ! How do you do, Miss Butcher ! I am 
 very glad to see you again ! " ^ 
 
 "Thank you," Rose replied simply. 
 
 "You're quite well but then I know 
 you 're well," Mrs. Gallup went on, assuming 
 still greater knowledge of her. 
 
 "Did you see the storm ? Was n't it dread 
 ful! I saw it all quite securely from Mrs. 
 Frost's window. How cosy you all look. I wish 
 I could stay, but I just dropped in to ask you to 
 take a seat in my box on Saturday night. Bring 
 Miss Butcher Mr. Gallup will be delighted to 
 meet her." 
 
 All that she said, and more that she implied 
 enmeshed Rose like folds of an invisible intan 
 gible net. 
 
 Mrs. Harvey calmly accepted, but Rose ex 
 claimed: "O,you 're very kind but I am going 
 home on Saturday morning!" 
 
 "How sad! I should have liked to have you 
 .come." 
 
 After she was gone Rose sprang to her feet. 
 
 356
 
 A STORM AND A HELMSMAN 
 
 " I must go now," she said and there was a note 
 in her voice which Mrs. Harvey knew meant 
 inflexible decision. 
 
 As they went upstairs Rose was filled with 
 dread of some further complication, but Mrs. 
 Harvey only said: 
 
 "I love you, my child. I wish you were 
 going to stay here always." 
 
 She left the way open for confidences, but 
 Rose was in a panic to get away and kept rigid 
 silence. 
 
 In the carriage she contrived to convey to 
 Elbert her desire to be left alone and so he 
 kept back the words of love which were bub 
 bling in his good frank soul. He was saddened 
 by it but not made hopeless. It would have 
 been a beautiful close to a dramatic day could 
 he have kissed her lips and presented her to his 
 mother as his promised wife but it was impos 
 sible for even his volatile nature to break into 
 her somber, almost sullen, silence; and when he 
 said "Good night, Rose!" with tender sweetness 
 she replied curtly, "Good night!" and fled. 
 
 She hurried past Mary to her own room and 
 lay for hours on her bed, without undressing, 
 listening to the howl of the wind, the grind of 
 cars and the distant boom of the breakers. 
 There was a storm in her heart also. 
 * She thought of that lovely and gentle home, 
 of the power wealth would give her, of the 
 
 357
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 journeys into the world, of trips to Europe, to 
 the ocean, to Boston and New York and London. 
 It could give her a life of ease, of power, of 
 grace and charm. O, how beautiful it all was, 
 but 
 
 To win it she had to cut off her old father. 
 He never could fit in with these people. She 
 thought of his meeting with the Harveys with a 
 shudder. Then, too, she would need to give up 
 her own striving toward independence, for it 
 was plain these people would not hear to her 
 continued effort. Even if they consented, she 
 would be meshed in a thousand other duties. 
 
 And then she thought of Mason toiling at his 
 desk down there in the heart of the terrible 
 town, and the look on his face grew less and less 
 imperious and more wistful and pleading. This 
 day she had caught a new meaning from his 
 eyes it was as if he needed her; it seemed ab 
 surd, and she blushed to think it, but so it 
 seemed. That last look on his face was the look 
 of a lonely man. 
 
 His words came to her again and again: 
 "Hitherto I have drifted henceforth I will sail!" 
 
 And she pushed away the splendid picture of 
 a life of ease and reached out for comradeship 
 with a man of toil, of dreams and hidden 
 powers. 
 
 358
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 MASON TAKES A VACATION 
 
 As Mason walked away from the lake that 
 terrible day it seemed as if he had ceased to 
 drift. The spirit of that grim helmsman appeared 
 to have entered into him. Life was short and 
 pleasures few. For fifteen years he had planned 
 important things to do, but had never done 
 them feeling all the time the power to write 
 latent within him, yet lacking stimulus. From 
 the very first this girl had roused him unaccount 
 ably. Her sympathy, her imaginative faculty 
 as well as her beauty, had come to seem the 
 qualities which he most needed. 
 
 Could he have gone to his own fireside at 
 once, the determining letter would have been 
 written that night, but the routine of the office, 
 the chaff of his companions, took away his heroic 
 mood, and when he entered a car at twelve 
 o'clock he slouched in his seat like a tired man, 
 and the muscles of his face fell slack and he 
 looked like a hopeless man. 
 
 After Rose went home he seemed to Sanborn 
 to be more impassible than ever. As for Mason 
 
 359
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 himself, it seemed as if some saving incentive 
 had gone out of his life some redeeming grace. 
 He had grown into the habit of dropping in at 
 Isabel's once a week, and Isabel had taken care 
 that Rose should be often there on the same 
 evening; and so without giving much thought to 
 it he had come to accept these evenings as the 
 compensating pleasures of his sombre life. 
 
 It was such a delight to come up out of the 
 vicious pitiless grind of his newspaper day and 
 sit there before the fire, with the face of a radiant 
 girl to smile upon him. Her voice, with its curi 
 ously penetrating yet musical quality, stirred him 
 to new thoughts, and often he went home at ten 
 or eleven and wrote with a feeling of exultant 
 power upon his book. After she went home he 
 wrote no more; he smoked and pondered. 
 When he called upon Isabel and Sanborn he 
 continued to smoke and to ponder. 
 
 He had not abandoned his allegory in talking 
 with Sanborn, and Sanborn and Isabel together 
 could not get at his real feeling for Rose. 
 
 Sanborn asked one day plumply : 
 
 " Mason, why do n't you marry the coolly 
 girl, and begin to live ? " 
 
 " It would be taking a mean advantage of 
 her. She 's going to be famous one of these 
 days, and then I should be in the way." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 
 "Besides, she probably would not marry 
 360
 
 MASON TAKES A VACATION 
 
 me; and if she would, I don't think I could 
 keep up the pose." 
 
 " What pose ? " 
 
 "Of husband." 
 
 " Is that a pose ? " Sanborn smiled. 
 
 "It would be for me," Mason said, rather 
 shortly. He was thinking once more of the 
 letter he had promised to write to Rose, but 
 which he had never found himself capable of 
 finishing. 
 
 He put it in his pocket when he went up in 
 July to spend a week at the Herrick cottage at 
 Oconomowoc. Isabel and Sanborn were mar 
 ried just before leaving the city. 
 
 Sanborn said he had the judge come in to 
 give him legal power to compel Isabel to do his 
 cooking for him, and Isabel replied that her 
 main reason was to secure a legal claim on 
 Sanborn's practice. 
 
 The wedding had been very quiet. Society 
 reporters (who did not see it) called it "an 
 unique affair." But Mason, who did see it, said it 
 was a very simple process, so simple it seemed 
 one ought to be able to go through it oneself. 
 To which Sanborn replied : "Quite right. Try 
 it!" 
 
 They had a little cottage on the bank of the 
 
 lake, and Sanborn came up on Saturdays with 
 
 the rest of the madly busy men who rest over 
 
 Sunday and over-work the rest of the week. 
 
 361
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 Mason had been with them a week, and, though 
 he gave no sign, he was nearing a crisis in his 
 life. He had gone to the point of finishing his 
 letter to Rose it was lying at that moment in his 
 valise waiting to be posted but it was a long 
 way from being over with. It was a tremendous 
 moment for him. As he approached the decid 
 ing moment the deed grew improbable, im 
 possible. It was a very beautiful life there on 
 the lake, with nothing to do but smoke and 
 dream, but one evening he had the impulse to 
 ask Isabel's advice, and after dinner he courte 
 ously invited her to sail with him. 
 
 There was some joking by Sanborn about the 
 impropriety of such a thing on Isabel's part, 
 and many offers to man the boat, which, Mason 
 said, sprang from jealousy. " I consider I am 
 doing you people a kindness in not letting you 
 bore each other into black hatred." It ended 
 in the two friends drifting away over the lake, 
 while Sanborn called after them threats of war 
 if they were not at the wharf at nine sharp! 
 
 They talked commonplaces for a time, while 
 the sky flushed and faded and the lake grad 
 ually cleared of its fisher boats. Slowly the 
 colors grew tender and a subtle, impalpable 
 mist rose from the water, through which the 
 boat drifted before an imperceptible breeze. 
 
 The two sailors lay at ease, Mason at the 
 rudder. The sail stood up light and airy and 
 362
 
 MASON TAKES A VACATION 
 
 soundless as a butterfly's wing. It pointed at 
 the sparse stars as if with warning finger. 
 
 The hour and the place were favorable to 
 confidences. As the dusk deepened, a boat-load 
 of young people put off into the lake, singing 
 some wailing sweet song. They were far 
 enough away to be unobtrusively impersonal. 
 A plover was faintly calling from the sedgy 
 shore on the other side. 
 
 " One should be forever young," said Mason 
 broodingly. 
 
 Isabel said: "Once I heard a cow low, and 
 a robin laugh, while a cricket chirped in the 
 grass. Why should they have moved me so ?" 
 
 Mason mused a moment. "The cow was 
 maternity pleading for its suckling ; the robin's 
 laugh suggested a thousand springtimes, and 
 the cricket prophesied the coming of frost and 
 age. Love and loss are in the wail of yonder 
 song, the loneliness of age in yonder piping 
 bird, and the infinite and all-absorbing men 
 struum of death in the growing dusk." 
 
 " And the light of man's optimism in the 
 piercing out of the stars." 
 
 "It may be so," he replied uncertainly. 
 
 They drifted on in silence. There was a 
 faint ripple at the prow and that was all. At 
 last Mason roused himself to say his word. 
 
 " All these intangible essences and powers 
 are no apparent reason why I should do so fool- 
 
 363
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S CCOLLY 
 
 ish a thing but they have influenced me. To 
 day I wrote to our coolly girl I hope to say my 
 coolly girl." 
 
 Isabel caught her breath: 
 
 "Warren, did you? I'm very glad. If I 
 could reach you I 'd shake your hand." 
 
 " I do n't rejoice. This thing which boys 
 and girls find easy I find each year more diffi 
 cult, quite equal to the revolution of the earth 
 perhaps the girl will save me from myself." 
 
 " She'll save you for yourself, and you '11 be 
 happy." 
 
 " It is impossible to say," he said sombrely. 
 " I have warned her fairly. Once I should not 
 have warned the woman of my choice. Am I 
 gaining in humanity or losing ? Please lower 
 your head, I am going to tack." 
 
 The boat swung about like a sleeping gull, 
 and the sail slowly filled, and the ripple at the 
 prow began again. 
 
 After a little Mason went on in a calm, even 
 voice: 
 
 "The world to me is not well governed and 
 I hesitate about marriage, for it has the effect, in 
 most cases, of perpetuating the human species, 
 which is not as yet a noble business. I am 
 torn by two minds. I do n't appear to be torn 
 by even one mind, but I am. I am convinced 
 that Rose has imagination, which is in my eyes 
 the chief thing in a wife. It enables her to 
 
 3 6 4
 
 MASON TAKES A VACATION 
 
 idealize me" there was a touch of his usual 
 humor in that " and fills me with alleged 
 desire to possess her, but it is sad business for 
 her, Isabel. When I think of her I am of the 
 stature of a thief, crouching for concealment." 
 
 The two in the boat were no longer young. 
 They had never been lovers, but they seemed to 
 understand each other like man and wife. 
 
 "I am old in knowledge of the world my 
 life has ground away any charm I might have 
 once possessed. For her sake I hope she will 
 refuse." 
 
 She perceived he was at the end of his con 
 fidence, and she began speaking. " I promised 
 you a story once," she began, " and I 'm going 
 to tell it now, and then we '11 return to Rose." 
 
 She spoke in a low voice, with a little catch 
 ing of the breath peculiar to her when deeply 
 moved. It made her voice pulse out like the 
 flow of heavy wine. She faced him in the 
 shadow, but he knew she was not looking at him 
 at all. Just how she began he did n't quite 
 hear perhaps she was a little incoherent. 
 
 " O those days when I was seventeen ! " she 
 went on. " Everything was magical. Every 
 moonlit night thrilled me with its possibilities. 
 I remember how the boys used to serenade me, 
 and then I was a mediaeval maiden at my 
 barred window, and they were disguised knights 
 seeking me in strange lands by their songs. 
 
 365
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " You know what I mean. I tingled with 
 the immense joy of it ! They sang there in the 
 moonlight, and I tiptoed to the window and 
 peeped out and listened and listened with 
 pictures and pictures tumbling in and out of my 
 head. 
 
 "Of course is was only the inherited feminine 
 rising up in me, as you would say but it was 
 beautiful. It just glorified that village street, 
 making it the narrow way in a Spanish city." 
 
 There was silence again. Mason softly said : 
 " Bend your head once more." 
 
 When the boat swung around and the faint 
 moon and the lights of the town shifted, Isabel 
 went on. 
 
 "One of the boys who came on those mid 
 night serenadings became my hero remember, 
 I was only seventeen and he was twenty ! We 
 used to meet on the street and oh! how it 
 shook me. My heart fluttered so I could not 
 speak, and at first I had to run past him. After 
 a time I got composed enough to speak to 
 him" 
 
 Her voice choked with remembered passion, 
 but after a little pause she went on : 
 
 "All this, I know as well as you, is absurd " 
 
 "It is very beautiful," he said. " Go on ! " 
 
 " He was tall and straight, I remember, with 
 brown hair. He was a workman of some kind. 
 I know he used to show me his powerful hands 
 366
 
 MASON TAKES A VACATION 
 
 and say he had tried to get the grime from them. 
 They were splendid, heroic hands to me. I 
 would have kissed them if I dared. It was all 
 incredible folly, but I thought I was loving be 
 neath my station, for I was a little grandee in 
 the town. It pleased me to think I was stooping 
 defying the laws of my house. He never 
 tried to see me at home he was good and 
 clean I can see that now, for I remember just 
 how his frank, clear eyes looked at me. He 
 did n't talk much, he seemed content to just look 
 at me." 
 
 " Well, that went on for weeks. He used to 
 follow me to church, as the boys do in country 
 towns, but I used to go to different places just 
 to see if he would find out and be there to meet 
 me at the door. He never offered to speak to 
 me or take my arm, but he stood to see me go 
 by. Do you know, if I go into a country church 
 today, that scent of wilted flowers and linen and 
 mingled perfumes almost makes me weep ? " 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 Her voice was lower when she resumed. 
 " Well, then the dreadful, the incredible hap 
 pened. He did not meet me any more, and just 
 when I was wild with rage and humiliation 
 came the news of his illness and then I suf 
 fered. O God ! how I suffered ! I couldn't 
 inquire about him I could n't see him. I had 
 kept my secret so well that no one dreamed of 
 
 367
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 my loving him so. The girls thought that he 
 followed me and that I despised him, and when 
 they jested about him I had to reply while my 
 heart was being torn out of me. I spent hours 
 in my room writhing, walking up and down, 
 cursing in a girl's way myself and God I was 
 insane with it all." 
 
 She drew a long breath but it did not relieve 
 her. Her voice was as tense as before when she 
 spoke again. The helmsman leaned to listen, 
 for he could hardly hear. 
 
 " Then one day he died O that awful day ! 
 I sat in my room with the curtains down. I 
 could n't endure the sunlight. I pretended to 
 be sick. I was numb with agony and yet I 
 could do nothing. I could n't even send a rose 
 to lay on his coffin. I could n't even speak his 
 name. I could only lie there like a prisoner 
 gagged and on the rack to suffer suffer ! " 
 
 The shadow of the sail covered the woman 
 like a mantle. It was as if the man listening 
 had turned away his face from her sacred pas 
 sion. She was more composed when she spoke 
 again: 
 
 " Well, it wore itself out after a time. I got 
 hungry and ate once more, though I did not sup 
 pose I ever should. I came down to the family 
 a week later, a puzzle to them. They never 
 thought to connect my illness with the death of 
 an obscure machinist, and then in the same way 
 368
 
 MASON TAKES A VACATION 
 
 I crept gradually back into society back into 
 the busy life of a popular young girl. But there 
 was one place where no one ever entered. I 
 never told any one of this before. I tried to tell 
 Dr. Sanborn about it once, but I felt he might 
 not understand ; I tell you because because 
 you can understand and because you may be in 
 fluenced by it and understand your wife when 
 she comes to you. These days come to many 
 women at seventeen and, though we can 't spare 
 them out of our lives, it does n't mean disloy 
 alty to our present ideals. I think you under 
 stand?" 
 
 " Very well indeed," he said. " I have such 
 memories myself." 
 
 " Then I resolved to be a physician. I felt 
 that he would not have died if he had been 
 treated properly ; the connection was obscure 
 but powerful enough to consecrate me to the 
 healing profession. Then I met Dr. Sanborn. 
 I love him and I couldn't live without him, 
 but there is that figure back there to have him 
 and all that he means go out of my life would 
 take part of my heart away." Her voice had 
 appeal in it. 
 
 "You understand me? It was all clean and 
 innocent, but it was my first passion and I can 't 
 spare it. Rose may have such a memory. It has 
 nothing to do with today, with her present 
 ideals. It is not disloyalty it is " 
 
 369
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " The love of love," said Mason. " I thank 
 you for your trust in me. Rose is what she is, 
 not what she has been." And then in perfect 
 stillness the boat swung around and drifted to 
 ward the shore, where a ruby lantern was swing 
 ing. Isabel turned and her voice was tremulous 
 with earnestness. 
 
 " Warren, Rose loves you not as she loved 
 when a girl, but as a woman loves. I think I un 
 derstand your hesitancy and I say you are 
 wrong. You need her and you will do her good. 
 You will develop her." 
 
 " She will suffer through me." 
 
 " That is a part of development." 
 
 The boat was nearing the wharf and San- 
 born's hearty voice came from the shore: 
 
 " See here ! Is n't it pretty late for a pair of 
 rheumatic old folks to be out sailing? It 's 9:30 
 o'clock." 
 
 "The breeze failed us," Isabel answered, as 
 Mason took her hand to help her ashore. 
 
 " And the night was so beautiful," said Ma 
 son. Before she loosed his hand Isabel shook 
 it hard and now Mason understood. He mailed 
 the letter that night, and Rose held his future in 
 her hand.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 ROSE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 Rose went directly from that storm to the 
 repose and apparent peace of the country, and 
 it helped her to make a great discovery. She 
 found every familiar thing had taken on a pecu 
 liar value a literary and artistic value. It was 
 all so reposeful, so secure. A red barn set 
 against a gray-green wooded hillside was no 
 longer commonplace. "How pretty!" she 
 thought ; " I never noticed that before." 
 
 A little girl wrapped in a shawl was watching 
 cattle in the field; a dog sat near, his back to the 
 misty drizzle. Rose saw it and put herself in 
 the place of that child, chilled and blue of hand, 
 with unfallen tears upon her cheeks. 
 
 A crow flying by with ringing, rough cry made 
 her blood leap. Some cattle streamed up a lane 
 and over a hill; their legs moving invisibly gave 
 them a gliding motion like a vast centipede. 
 Some mysterious charm seemed imparted to 
 everything she saw, and, as the familiar lines of 
 the hills began to loom against the sky, she be 
 came intolerably eager to see her father and
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 the farm. She hoped it would be a sunny day, 
 but it was raining heavily when she got out at 
 the station. 
 
 He was there, the dear, sweet, old face smiling, 
 almost tearful. He had an umbrella and could n't 
 return her hug ; but he put his arm about her 
 and hurried her to the carriage, and in a few 
 moments they were spattering up the familiar 
 road. 
 
 Instantly it seemed as if she had never been 
 away. She was a little girl again ; the horses 
 shook their heads, impatient at the rain ; the 
 pools in the road were green as liquid emerald, 
 and were dimpled by the pelting drops. The 
 wheels flung segments of mud into the air, but 
 the horses drove ahead sullenly, almost desper 
 ately, unmindful of the splash and splatter of 
 mud and water. 
 
 Rose took keen delight in it all. She had 
 been shut away from nature so long, it seemed 
 good to get back into even the stern mood of a 
 May storm. The great, reeling masses of gray 
 cloud delighted her, and the ringing cry of frogs 
 seemed delicious orchestration. Everything 
 was fresh, clean, almost harsh. How arid and 
 artificial the city life seemed in the freshness of 
 green fields! 
 
 It was a pleasure to return to the barnyard, 
 to get back into the kitchen where her aunt was 
 phlegmatically working away at supper-getting. 
 
 372
 
 ROSE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 She wiped her hands on her apron, and said 
 "How-de-do!" as if Rose were a neighbor just 
 dropping in for a call. 
 
 The life all seemed heroically dull, but the 
 coolness, repose and sanity of nature was ele 
 mental, as if she had risen into the rainy sky or 
 sunk into the waters of the ocean. It was 
 deathly still at times. And dark, dark and illim 
 itable and freshly sweet the night shut down over 
 the valley. 
 
 She went to sleep with the soft roar of the 
 falling rain near her window ; and the faint 
 puffing in of the breeze brought to her the de 
 licious smell of the rain-washed leaves, the acrid, 
 pungent odor of poplars, the sweet smell of 
 maples, the fragrance of rich loam she knew 
 them all. 
 
 By force of contrast she thought of Mason 
 and his life in the city. The roar of traffic; the 
 thunder of great presses ; the nights at the 
 opera or the theater, all had enormous weight 
 and value to her, but how remote it all was ! In 
 the country the city seemed unreal ; in the city 
 the country seemed impossible. 
 
 She awoke at the cry of a jay in the maples, 
 and then as she listened she heard a mourning- 
 dove sob from the distance. Robins were laugh 
 ing merrily, an oriole whistled once and flew 
 away, and hark ! yes, a thrush was singing, sit 
 ting high in some tree-top, she knew. 
 
 373
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 The rain was over ; the valley was flooded 
 with sunshine. O, so beautiful! flooded with 
 light like the love of God. She sprang up with 
 joyous energy. Life's problem was not without 
 solution if she could live both city and coun 
 try, too. 
 
 She felt her joy of the country doubled by 
 her winter in the city this day was made mar 
 velous by that storm on the lake. 
 
 Rhymes grew in her mind upon subjects 
 hitherto untouched by her literary perception. 
 Things she had known all her life, familiar plants, 
 flowers, trees, etc., seemed touched all at once 
 by supernatural radiance. 
 
 The clouds on the hills, the buzz of bees in 
 the clover, the sabre swing of poplar trees against 
 the sky, moved her to song, and she wrote daily 
 with marvelous ease. She flung herself prone 
 on the bank by the spring, and strove to mix 
 and be one with the wind and the trees. She 
 thought of her childish crooning over Carl that 
 day his head lay in her lap, and its significance 
 came to her and voiced itself in music. 
 
 She traced out every path where her feet had 
 trod as a child, and the infinite significance and 
 terror and high beauty of life and death came 
 upon her. She seemed to summon up and 
 analyze all her past, as if she were about to end 
 one life and begin another. These wonderful 
 moods and memories in some unaccountable 
 
 374
 
 ROSE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 way co-ordinated themselves in lines of verse, 
 and the restless, vigorous heart of the girl felt 
 the splendid peace which comes when the artist 
 finds at last that art which is verily his. 
 
 The body of her verse grew, and she longed 
 for Mason's opinion upon it, and yet she feared 
 to send it, it seemed so different from other 
 verse. At times she felt its passionate and 
 imaginative quality, and made up selections to 
 send him, but ended always by putting them 
 away again. 
 
 She had his picture in her room, and some 
 times she sat down to write with his sadly 
 inscrutable face before her. She could see in it 
 (as she studied it here in her home) the lines 
 of varied and restless thought which make 
 up the face of a man who largely comprehends 
 American civilization in the light of experience. 
 
 That face represented to her the highest type 
 of manhood, and something more. It was re- 
 . fined and infinitely subtle compared with the 
 simple, almost ox-like faces of the men about 
 her. It was sad, too, as her father's face in re 
 pose was sad, but the sadness was different. 
 There was patient, resigned sadness in her father's 
 eyes and lips ; in Mason's, bitter, rebellious, 
 perhaps despairing sadness, and something else, 
 too youth taking hold on the hopelessness of 
 the whole world. 
 
 And yet she knew how sweetly those lips could 
 
 375
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 smile, and she had felt the gentleness and purity 
 hid in those eyes. He looked at her as no other 
 man looked, without boldness, without uncer 
 tainty, clean, manly and just ; and still there 
 were those cynical lines about the lips ; not 
 deep, but still perceptible. 
 
 She thought less of his fine, erect bearing, 
 and yet she liked to see him walking down the 
 street. He had physical power and dignity, but 
 his face and eyes were etched in minutest detail 
 upon her brain. The life companionship of such 
 a man came to seem more and more impossible 
 for her to attain to. The common little details 
 of her life seemed to lower her. She fell back 
 into inelegant habits and careless speech, and 
 every time she realized it, it put Mason far off 
 and far above her. Her verse lost its brilliancy, 
 its buoyancy, and became dark and bitter at 
 times. 
 
 Every night she wondered if she might not 
 hear from him. He had promised to write, and 
 he had hinted at something very important. She 
 knew that she had no definite claim upon him, 
 and yet her last letter had contained one ques 
 tion, not of any importance only as it gave him 
 a chance to reply if he felt like it. 
 
 Then the question came : " What of my win 
 ter in the city ? What has it done for me ? Is 
 not life as insoluble as ever success as far 
 away as ever ? " 
 
 376
 
 ROSE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 Could she live here in the country any easier 
 because of her stay there ; did it not, in fact, 
 make life harder ? 
 
 It was in thinking about these things and 
 Mason's letter, which did not come, that her 
 new-found rapture in nature began to cool down. 
 She began to spend more time in her room, 
 thinking of him, and wondering what his atti 
 tude toward her really was. 
 
 She had moments at last when his face seemed 
 cynically smiling at her. What did he care for 
 an awkward country girl like her ? He pitied 
 her, that was all. He wanted to help her, and 
 had tried, and finding her dull, had given her 
 up and forgotten her. He knew scores of beau 
 tiful women, actresses, artists, millionaires' 
 daughters ; it was absurd to suppose that a girl 
 from the coolly could be of any special interest 
 to him ; and to win his love, that was impos 
 sible. 
 
 She had not the personal vanity which makes 
 so many pretty and brainless women think 
 themselves irresistible to any man, and a fair 
 return for any man's name and fame. Her flesh 
 she made little of in the question. 
 
 She hoped each week for a reply, and in her 
 letters to Isabel asked for news about " all 
 friends," meaning one especially. 
 
 Isabel wrote, saying they had invited Mr. 
 Mason up to stay a few days at their cottage, 
 
 377
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 and that Elbert Harvey had asked after her, and 
 couldn't she come down? 
 
 By the middle of July she had begun to pass 
 days without writing at all. 
 
 When the letter from Mason came her father 
 brought it to her with a smile: "Guess this is a 
 love-letter; it's a big one!" 
 
 She took it in her hand, feeling a keen, swift 
 premonition of its importance. It was indeed 
 a heavy letter almost a packet. 
 
 She went to her room with it and took a seat 
 by the window, quite deliberately, but her hands 
 shook as she opened the envelope. Her senses 
 seemed some way to acquire unnatural keenness, 
 like a scared animal's. She heard every voice 
 about the barnyard, and she felt the wind on 
 her cheek like a live thing beating its slow wings. 
 The letter began simply : 
 " DEAR Miss BUTCHER : 
 
 " I must begin by asking pardon for not 
 writing before, but as a matter of fact I have 
 not found this letter easy to compose. It rep 
 resents a turning point in my life, and contains 
 an important decision, and I have never been 
 less sure of my judgment than now. 
 
 "This letter may be considered an offer of 
 marriage. It is well to say that now, and then 
 all the things which come after, will be given 
 their proper weight. Let me state the debit side 
 of the account first, and if you feel that it is too 
 
 378
 
 ROSE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 heavy you can put the letter down and write me 
 a very short answer, and the matter will be 
 ended. 
 
 "First, I say to you: whoso weds me weds 
 sorrow. I do not promise to make you happy, 
 though I hope my influence will not be always 
 untoward. I cannot promise any of the things 
 husbands are supposed to bring. I cannot 
 promise a home. My own living is precarious, 
 dependent upon my daily grind of newspaper 
 work. For though I hope to achieve a success 
 with my novel, great successes with novels do 
 not mean much money. I do not feel either 
 that I shall ever be free from money cares ; 
 luxury and I are to continue strangers. 
 
 " I cannot promise to conform to your ways, 
 nor to bend to your wishes, though I will try to 
 do so. I cannot promise to assume cordial re 
 lations with your relatives, nor accept your 
 friendships as binding upon me. 
 
 " I cannot promise to be faithful to you until 
 death, but I shall be faithful so long as I 
 fill the relation of husband to you. I shall not 
 lead a double life, or conceal from you any 
 change in my regard toward you. If at any 
 time I find a woman whom 1 feel I should live 
 with, rather than with you, I shall tell you of her 
 with perfect frankness. I think I shall find you 
 all-sufficient, but I do not know. Men and 
 women change, grow weary of things, of bonds, 
 
 379
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 of duties. It may be that I shall become and 
 continue the most devoted of husbands, but I 
 cannot promise it. Long years of association 
 develop intolerable traits in men and women 
 very often. 
 
 " On the other hand, let me say I exact 
 nothing from you. I do not require you to cook 
 for me, nor keep house for me. You are mis 
 tress of yourself ; to come and go as you please, 
 without question and without accounting to me. 
 You are at liberty to cease your association with 
 me at any time, and consider yourself perfectly 
 free to leave me whenever any other man comes 
 with power to make you happier than I. 
 
 " I want you as comrade and lover, not as 
 subject or servant, or unwilling wife. I do not 
 claim any rights over you at all. You can bear 
 me children or not, just as you please. You are 
 a human soul like myself, and I shall expect you 
 to be as free and as sovereign as I, to follow 
 any profession or to do any work which pleases 
 you. It is but just to say that I have never 
 been a man of loose habits. No woman has 
 any claim upon me for deed or word. I have 
 thought at various times that I could marry this 
 woman or that woman, but I have never before 
 made a proposition of marriage to any woman. 
 
 " I have written you in good, set terms what 
 you may expect of me. I am not a demon 
 strative man by nature, and my training from 
 380
 
 ROSE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 childhood has made me saving of words of en 
 dearment. My love for you must be taken largely 
 for granted after it is once stated, for I regard 
 the word Move' as a jewel not to be carelessly 
 tossed from hand to hand. 
 
 "Doubtlessly I shall make a dull companion 
 that I cannot judge for myself." 
 
 The letter concluded with this characteristic 
 touch ; she seemed to hear his voice as she 
 read it : 
 
 " I have written frankly because I believed it 
 would prejudice you in my favor. Had I be 
 lieved otherwise, doubtless I should have written 
 in terms of flattery and deceit, for of such is 
 man when seeking woman in marriage. 
 
 " If you return the affirmative answer I shall 
 be very happy to come up and spend the rest of 
 my vacation at your father's home provided it 
 is agreeable to you." 
 
 Rose sat rigidly still in her chair, her hands 
 in her lap, holding the letter. 
 
 It had come again, this question of marriage, 
 and this time it appealed to her whole nature 
 to her intellectual part as well as to her material 
 self; uttered this time by a voice which had no 
 tremor in it. 
 
 How strange it all was! How different from 
 the other proposals she had received ; appar 
 ently cold and legal, yet under the lines she felt
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 something deep and manly and passionate, be 
 cause she was only a coule girl, and he was a 
 man of the great intellectual world ; a man who 
 "molded public opinion" by the power of his 
 editorial pen. He was greater than that. In 
 his presence you felt him to be a man of national 
 reputation living quietly under an assumed 
 name. 
 
 There rose a great pride in her heart. He had 
 selected her from among the women of the 
 world ! He loved her so much he had written 
 her this strange letter, which plead for her under 
 its rigid order of words. She held the letter to 
 her lips as if to get its secret meaning so and 
 then she dropped it as if it were a husk. No 
 matter what it said, she felt the spirit of the 
 man. 
 
 She wrote a few lines and sealed them 
 quickly. Then she fell into thought upon the 
 terms of his letter. She hardly comprehended 
 the significance of the minor statements, so filled 
 was she with the one great fact, he wished her 
 to be his wife ! She was poor, unknown, and 
 yet he had chosen her ! 
 
 There was something sad in the letter, too 
 like his face it was inscrutable, intricate, but 
 {she believed) noble in intention. The freedom 
 of action which he claimed for himself did not 
 trouble her, for she felt his love beneath it. His 
 word " comrade " pleased her, too. It seemed to 
 
 382
 
 ROSE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 be wholesome and sweet, and promised intellec 
 tual companionship never before possible to 
 her. 
 
 O, to be the wife of such a man ! to have his 
 daily help and presence ; it was wonderful, it 
 could not be true! Yet there lay the letter in 
 her lap, and there the firm, calm, even signature. 
 She rose to her feet and her heart dilated with 
 pride, and her head was that of a newly crowned 
 princess. Oh, the great splendid world out there! 
 
 She took up her letter suddenly and went 
 downstairs and out into the yard in search of 
 her father. He was sitting by the bees, with 
 dreamy eyes. He spent a great deal of his time 
 there. 
 
 " Father, I want you to hitch Kitty to the 
 buggy for me." 
 
 "Why, of course. Where are you goin', 
 Rose ? " 
 
 " I 'm going to the Siding to post a letter. 
 O, pappa John ! " she cried suddenly, putting 
 her arms round him, " I 'm going to be married." 
 
 John did not instantly comprehend her pas 
 sion; he was slower to move, but he said : 
 
 "Why, Rosie ! When ? Who to?" 
 
 " To a man in Chicago, Mr. Warren Mason, 
 a great editor. I 'm just writing to him to 
 come." 
 
 John began to feel the solemnity of the 
 thought. 
 
 383
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 "Does he live in Chicago?" 
 
 " Yes." She understood his thought. "But 
 we '11 come and see you, summers, just the same, 
 pappa John." 
 
 " Well, I '11 take the letter down." 
 
 " No, I must take it myself," she said, smil 
 ingly, holding the letter behind her like a child. 
 
 There was something fine in carrying the 
 letter to the office herself. It seemed to hasten 
 it. The horse was spirited and carried her at a 
 steady swift trot up hill and down, and the rail 
 way track was soon in sight. 
 
 Suddenly an idea seized her ; why not tele 
 graph her answer. They might suspect him to 
 be her lover, but what did she care now? She 
 penned this message : 
 
 "Come up tomorrow if you can, please. 
 Rose." 
 
 But afterward, as she approached the office, 
 she shrank from handing it in. It seemed to 
 her too plainly a love message. She mailed her 
 letter and fell to calculating when it would 
 reach him. He could not possibly come till the 
 second day, whereas if she telegraphed he might 
 arrive in the morning. This thought strength 
 ened her resolution; going over to the window 
 she placed the message firmly before the oper 
 ator, who knew her and admired her deeply. 
 
 " Please send that at once, Mr. Bingham." 
 
 The operator smiled and bowed, and when he 
 
 384
 
 ROSE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 read the message he looked up at her keenly, 
 but did not smile. 
 
 " Any answer ?" he asked. 
 
 "No, probably not," she replied. "Will it go 
 right out?" 
 
 "Immediately." 
 
 As she turned away to ride home her soul 
 took wing. A marvelous elevation and peace 
 came upon her. It was done. Life held more 
 than promise now, it contained certainties. Her 
 chosen one of Israel was coming ! 
 
 385
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 MASON AS A LOVER 
 
 The telegram came to Mason as he sat on the 
 porch of the Herrick cottage. He read it, and 
 his eyes smiled, but his feeling was not one of 
 amusement. The significance of that impulsive 
 message struck deep, and his blood responded 
 to it as if it were an embrace. 
 
 It settled all doubt in his mind concerning 
 her. She was as free and self-reliant as he 
 thought her, and the severe terms of his pro 
 posal had not repelled her, and yet that she 
 loved him in a right human and very passionate 
 way did not seem to him possible. 
 
 He had, also, other misgivings. He wished 
 he had delineated more fully in his letter the neg 
 ative side of his character. " She is young and 
 beautiful," he thought, " and will want to see 
 life. She will value social affairs I am done 
 with them. She will want words of tender pro 
 testation, flattery perhaps, which I cannot give. 
 
 " My habits are fixed. I like my silent pipe 
 at night after dinner. I shall undoubtedly get 
 more and more disinclined to social duties as 
 time goes on. 
 
 386
 
 MASON AS A LOVER 
 
 " In ten years I shall be forty-eight years old, 
 an old man, when she is just in her splendid June 
 season. She will find the difference between our 
 ages wider than now. She will be a wife. I can 
 free her when she asks it, but I cannot give her 
 back her sweet, superb girlhood. I can give her 
 perception and comprehension of the world and 
 of life, but I cannot make her young again. I 
 may die after a few years, leaving her a mother 
 with a hazardous future. Then she will be 
 doubly cursed. 
 
 "Again, this marriage may ruin and interrupt 
 her career. With some women marriage, espe 
 cially maternity, seems to take away their power 
 as artists, and to turn them into cooks and 
 nurses ; meritorious vocations of course, but " 
 
 All night long he alternately mused and 
 dozed upon the problem. He roused up at early 
 daylight with a feeling of doom upqn him. He 
 had made a mistake. He was not fitted to be a 
 husband he was a poor thing, at best, who had 
 not had energy enough to get out of a groove 
 nor to demand adequate pay for grinding in his 
 groove. He lacked " push," and had dreamed 
 away the best years of his life, at least such parts 
 of the years as he had saved from the merciless 
 drive of his paper. He was pulp, squeezed 
 dry. 
 
 He groaned, and a curse came upon his lips, 
 and his forehead knit into a tangle of deep lines. 
 
 387
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 His paper had used him. It had sucked the 
 blood of his heart. The creative energy of his 
 brain had gone into the impersonal columns of 
 the editorial page to what end ? To the end 
 that the Evening Star Publishing Company 
 should be rated high in Bradstreet. Had any 
 human being been made better by anything he 
 had written in those columns ? Politics ? Good 
 God ! he had sold his soul, his blood, the grace 
 of his limbs, the suppleness of his joints, the 
 bloom of his enthusiasms, to put this or that 
 damned party into power. 
 
 And now, when a beautiful young woman, 
 singing her way to fame, had sent for him, he 
 must go to her, cynical, thin-haired, stiff in joints, 
 bent in shoulders and reeking with the smell of 
 office life and, worst of all, worked out, his novel 
 not yet written, and his enthusiasm turned to 
 indifference and despair. 
 
 The problem of the age that morning made 
 him savage. He looked out of the window at 
 the farmhouses gleaming in the early light, at 
 the smoke curling up into the still air, at the 
 men going to milk the cows 
 
 "The damn fools!" he said in his heart. 
 "They do n't know enough to vegetate any 
 more than I had sense to know I was becoming 
 a machine. Rot and rot ! So we go like leaves 
 to the muck-heap." The porter rushed in and 
 shook him. 
 
 388
 
 MASON AS A LOVER 
 
 "Almos' to Bluff Siding, sah." 
 
 This put a little resolution into his blood, 
 and he dressed rapidly, with little thought on 
 anything else. Once or twice he looked out at 
 the misty blue hills, cool and fresh with recent 
 rains. As the porter came to get his grip a few 
 minutes later, Mason wondered how he should 
 meet her, with a hand-shake or a kiss ? How 
 would she meet him ? 
 
 As the train slowed down he saw her at the 
 platform. She sat in a carriage waiting for him. 
 He had one flashing thought : " There sits my 
 wife!" It startled him. The tremendous sig 
 nificance of that phrase made his brain dizzy for 
 a moment. 
 
 She was dressed trimly, he noticed, as he 
 came toward her, and she held her horse firmly 
 he liked her for that, it showed self-mastery. 
 As for him, he felt more uncertainty of footing 
 than ever before in his life, and tried to throw 
 off the stoop in his shoulders. 
 
 As he came forward, she flushed, but her 
 steady eyes met his unwaveringly. He looked 
 into their clear obscurity of depth, wherein were 
 purity and unworldly womanly ways. 
 
 She held out her hand, firm and strong, and 
 he took it in his. Outwardly it was merely a 
 friendly greeting, yet something subtler than 
 light came from her to him. He did not speak 
 for an instant, then he said: 
 
 389
 
 ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " This is good of you ! I did not expect 
 this great pleasure." 
 
 Her voice trembled as she said: 
 
 " I wanted to be the first to greet you, and 
 besides, papa would n't know you." 
 
 He smiled for the first time. 
 
 " That 's true. But it 's very early quite in 
 the small hours." 
 
 " Oh, that 's nothing ; I 'm a farmer's girl, 
 you know. But put your valise in, we must be 
 off." 
 
 How strong and supple she looked! and how 
 becoming her silk waist and straw hat! She 
 could drive, too. Some way she seemed quite 
 another sort of person here in her own land 
 and in her own carriage. She was so much 
 more composed. " She has imagination," he 
 repeated to himself. 
 
 They turned into the road before he spoke 
 again. 
 
 " So this is your ' coolly ' ?" 
 
 " No, this is our valley. The coolly is over 
 there where you see that cloud shadow sliding 
 down." 
 
 He looked about slowly at the hills and fields. 
 
 " It 's very fine ; much finer than Oconomo- 
 woc and Geneva." 
 
 "We like it . . papa and I." 
 
 They were both talking around the bush, as 
 the saying goes, but he finally said: 
 
 39
 
 MASON AS A LOVER 
 
 " I was very glad to receive your telegram. 
 Am I to take it as an affirmative answer? " 
 
 She said with effort : 
 
 " I wanted you to see how poor and humble 
 we all are before before I " 
 
 He studied her profile. Her lips quivered, 
 and a tear glistened through the veil. 
 
 "On my part," he said, "I regretted that I 
 did not further set forth my general cussedness 
 and undesirability. How well you drive! "he 
 said, by way of relieving the stress of the mo 
 ment. 
 
 He took command now, and there were no 
 more tender allusions. He sniffed the smell of 
 the grass and the wayside trees, and remarked 
 upon the cattle, and inquired the names of 
 several birds whose notes reached across the field. 
 
 "Do you know, I'm no wild lover of the 
 country, and I don't admire the country people 
 unreservedly. There are exceptions, of course 
 but my experience with them has not been 
 such as to make them heroic sufferers, as the new 
 school of fiction sets 'em forth. They are squalid 
 enough and poor enough, heaven knows, but it 
 is the squalor of piracy they do as well as I 
 should under the same circumstances, no 
 doubt." 
 
 Rose looked at him narrowly, as if to find 
 his real thought. He stopped abruptly at her 
 glance.
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 " I beg your pardon for boring you ; but 
 these disagreeable phases of my character should 
 be known to you. I'm full of whims and 
 notions, you'll find." 
 
 She looked away and a moment later said: 
 "There is our farm; that house in the grove is 
 ours." 
 
 " Cattle I hate, so I hope your father will not 
 expect me to be interested in stock." 
 
 This was the first time he had mentioned her 
 father, and it moved her unaccountably. It 
 would be so dreadful if he should not under 
 stand her father. His perverse attitude toward 
 her and toward the country had brought her 
 from exalted singleness of emotion down to a 
 complexity of questionings and forebodings. 
 
 As they whirled in the yard Mason saw a new 
 house of the ambitious pork-pie order, standing 
 in a fairly well-kept sward, with a background 
 of barns, corncribs, pigsties and beehives. A 
 well-to-do farmstead of the more fortunate sort, 
 and the thought that the man coming out of the 
 barn to meet them was to be his father-in-law 
 struck him like a gust of barnyard air. Really 
 could it be that he had made this decision? 
 
 As the man came nearer he appeared a 
 strong-armed, gentle-faced farmer of sixty. His 
 eyes were timid, almost appealing. His throat 
 was brown and wrinkled as leather. His chin 
 beard was a faded yellow-grey, and his hands 
 
 392
 
 MASON AS A LOVER 
 
 were nobbed and crooked in the fingers. He 
 peered at Mason through dimmed eyes. 
 
 " Father," said Rose, and her voice trembled 
 a little, " this is Mr. Mason." 
 
 John Butcher put up his hand heartily. 
 
 " How do you do, sir?" His timid smile 
 touched Mason, but there was something else in 
 the man which made him return the hand-clasp. 
 
 "I am glad to see you, Mr. Butcher," he said, 
 and his tone was so genuine it brought a gush 
 of tears to the daughter's eyes. Her lover un 
 derstood her father after all. x -s 
 
 "Won't you 'light out, sir?" continued John 
 with elaborate hospitality. 
 
 "Well, yes, 1 think I will," said Mason, \n& 
 Rose's spirits shook off their cowls. 
 
 Suddenly she heard every bird singing, the 
 thrush in the poplar top, the catbirds in the wil 
 lows, the robin on the lawn ; the sun flooded the 
 world with magical splendor. It was morning 
 in the world and morning in her life, and her 
 lover was walking up the path by her side. . 
 
 It was splendid beyond belief to show him to 
 his room, to bring him water and towels and to 
 say from the doorway, with a smile : 
 
 "Breakfast is ready!" 
 
 The picture that she made lingered pleas 
 antly on Mason's interior eye. She was so sup 
 ple of form and so radiant of color, and so pal 
 pitant with timid joy. 
 
 393
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 She sat alone at the table when he came out. 
 She explained as she showed him his seat, 
 "Father and my aunt had breakfast long ago." 
 
 Mrs. Diehl brought the coffee in and bowed 
 awkwardly to Mason. The whole thing seemed 
 like a scene in a play to him. It was charming, 
 all the same, to sit alone at the table with such 
 a girl ; it was just the least bit exciting. His 
 hands shook a little, he noticed. 
 
 As he took his cup of coffee from her he said 
 whimsically : 
 
 "I expect to wake up soon." 
 
 " Does it seem like a dream to you too ? " 
 
 "Well, it isn't my every-day life, I must 
 confess." 
 
 To her he seemed handsomer and more re 
 fined than in the city. He seemed simpler, too, 
 though he was still complex enough to keep her 
 wondering. The slope of his shoulders and the 
 poise of his head were splendid to her. It could 
 not be possible that he was here to see her ; to 
 be served by her ; to spend the days with her ; 
 to be her husband if she should say so. 
 
 And yet she retained her dignity. She did 
 not grow silly nor hysterical as a lesser woman 
 might have done. She was tremulous with hap 
 piness and wonder, but she sat before him mis 
 tress of her hands and voice. Her very laughter 
 pleased him ; if she had giggled heavens, if 
 she had giggled ! 
 
 394
 
 MASON AS A LOVER 
 
 John also went busily, apparently calmly, 
 about his work. Mason was pleased at that ; it 
 showed astonishing reserve in the man. 
 
 Again that keen, sweet feeling of companion 
 ship wifehood came to Rose as they walked 
 out side by side into the parlor. He had come 
 to her ; that was the marvelous thing ! She was 
 doing wifely things for him ; it was all more in 
 timate, more splendid than she thought ! 
 
 They sat down in the best room and faced 
 each other. It was their most potential moment. 
 Breakfast was eaten and the day was before 
 them, and an understanding was necessary. 
 
 " Now, I can 't allow you to be hasty," Mason 
 said. I '11 tell you what I think you had better 
 do ; defer your answer until two weeks from 
 today, when I shall return to the city. That 
 will give us time to talk the matter over, and it 
 will give you time to repent." 
 
 A little shadow fell over her and the sunlight 
 was not quite so brilliant. The incomprehensi 
 ble nature of the man came to her again, and he 
 seemed old, old as a granite crag, beyond song, 
 beyond love, beyond hope. 
 
 Then he smiled : " Well, now, I 'm ready to 
 go see the world ; any caves, any rocking boul 
 ders, any water tower?" 
 
 She took up the cue for gaiety : " No, but I 
 might take you to see the cemetery, that is an 
 
 395
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 appropriate Sunday walk ; all the young people 
 walk there." 
 
 " The cemetery ! I 'm a believer in crema 
 tories. I '11 tell you what we '11 do. After 
 you 've hung out the wash-boiler to dry we '11 go 
 down under the trees, and I '11 listen to some of 
 your verse. Now, that is a tremendous conces 
 sion on my part. I hope you value it to the 
 full." 
 
 " I do, indeed." 
 
 "You do? good! We'll put the matter in 
 movement at once." 
 
 "The dew is still on the grass," she said 
 warningly. 
 
 " So it is. I thank you for remembering my 
 growing infirmities. Well, let 's go out and see 
 the pigs. As I told you, I hate cattle and swine, 
 they act out so frankly the secret vices of man 
 but, never mind, I "11 go out and have it out with 
 your father." 
 
 The moment he began in that tone she was 
 helpless. 
 
 They moved out into the barnyard, but John 
 was not in sight. 
 
 " I guess he 's with his bees," Rose said. 
 " He likes to sit out there and watch them when 
 he is resting." 
 
 They peered over the fence, and their eyes 
 took in a picture they will never forget while 
 they live. John Butcher sat before his bees in 
 
 396
 
 MASON AS A LOVER 
 
 the bloom of the clover, his head bowed in his 
 hands. He was crying for his lost daughter. 
 
 There came a gripping pain in the girl's 
 throat, the hot tears rushed to her eyes, and she 
 cried in a voice of remorseful agony : 
 
 " Father pappa John ! " 
 
 His lifted his head and looked at her, his 
 eyes dim with tears, his lips quivering. 
 
 The girl rushed through the gate, and Mason 
 turned and walked away like a man discovered 
 thieving from an altar. 
 
 397
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 THE WIND IN THE TREETOPS 
 
 Mason freshened magically under her sweet 
 and self-contained companionship. She did not 
 coddle him, nor bore him by attentions, but 
 seemed to do the right thing instinctively. She 
 assumed command over him in certain ways 
 that is, she insisted on his taking long walks and 
 drives with her though he sturdily refused to 
 climb hills. " Bring me to them gradually," he 
 said, " for I am from Egypt." 
 
 One Sunday afternoon he consented to try 
 an easy one and they started out she in radi 
 ant, laughing exultation, he in pretended dark 
 foreboding of the outcome. 
 
 She led the way with swift, steady swing of 
 skirts, her smiling face a challenge to him when 
 he fell too far behind. He never ceased to ad 
 mire her powerful, decisive movement and her 
 radiant color, though he said nothing about it 
 to her. 
 
 She stopped at a spring which came silently 
 to light beneath an overhanging sandstone. 
 There was no dipper, and Rose, with a new 
 
 398
 
 THE WIND IN THE TREETOPS 
 
 daring, dropped on her knees and dipped some 
 of the cool, sweet water in her palm. 
 " Do you thirst, Sir Guy ?" 
 
 He kneeled beside her with a comical groan, 
 and drank from her hand. 
 
 " Thanks, a sweeter draught from fairer hand 
 was never quaffed." 
 
 Rose was highly elated at the success of her 
 trick. She dipped another palm full. He shook 
 his head. 
 
 " With your permission I '11 use my hat brim." 
 
 " I '11 show you how to do it," she said. She 
 rose and leaped the little stream, and flung her 
 self down full length on the ground, and resting 
 her palms on two flat stones, she drank from the 
 pool, like an Indian. 
 
 " There! " she cried triumphantly. " That 's 
 the way to drink. All my life I 've done this 
 way at this spring when there was n't anyone 
 to see." 
 
 Mason felt a wild charm in this. Most other 
 women would have tumbled to pieces doing 
 such a thing, while she sprang up a little 
 flushed, but with no other sign of exertion. 
 
 There was something primeval, elemental, in 
 being thus led by a beautiful woman through 
 coverts of ferns and hazel. Every shadow 
 seemed to wash away some stain or scar of the 
 city's strife. He grew younger. 
 
 " I almost like this sort of thing," he said. 
 
 399
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 They came at last to the smooth slope of the 
 peak where grass stood tall in bunches on a 
 gravelly soil, and wild flowers of unusual kinds 
 grew. As they mounted now, the landscape 
 broke over the tree tops, and the valleys curved 
 away into silent blue mist. 
 
 On every side low wooded ridges lay, with 
 farms spread like rugs half-way up their deep 
 green clearings. On the further slope a pasture 
 came nearly to the summit, and the tinkle of a 
 bell among the bushes sounded a pastoral note. 
 A field of timothy farther on to the left glowed 
 with a beautiful pink-purple bloom. 
 
 " Is n't it beautiful," asked Rose. 
 
 Mason dropped full length on the grass be 
 fore replying. 
 
 "Yes, it is lovely perfectly pastoral. Worthy 
 a poem." 
 
 " I 've written three, right on this spot," she 
 said a little shyly. 
 
 He seemed interested. 
 
 " Have you? Have n't one with you? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Always go armed. Now here 's a golden 
 opportunity gone to waste." 
 
 She smiled shyly. 
 
 " I can repeat one though." 
 
 " Can you ? Better yet ! Recite one." 
 
 She sat down near him, but not too near, 
 and began in a soft hesitant voice to repeat a 
 400
 
 THE WIND IN THE TREETOPS 
 
 poem which was full of feminine sadness and 
 wistfulness. As she went on Mason turned his 
 face toward her, and her eyes fell and her voice 
 faltered. 
 
 "That 's glorious! " he said. " Go on." 
 
 The wind swept up the slope and through 
 the leaning white bodies of the birches with a 
 sadness like the poem. The wild barley bowed 
 and streamed in the wind like an old man's 
 beard ; the poem struck deep into secret moods, 
 incommunicable in words and music came to 
 carry the words. The girl's eyes were sweet and 
 serious and the lovely lines of her lips shifted 
 and wavered. 
 
 Mason suddenly reached out and took the 
 girl's right hand. Her voice died out and her 
 eyes met his. He drew her hand toward him 
 and laid his lips upon it. 
 
 " You 're a poet," he said. " You have 
 found your voice, and I I love you because 
 you are a poet and because you are a beautiful 
 woman." 
 
 The touch of his bearded lips upon her hand 
 was the event of her life, and the whole world 
 reshaped itself. His praise of her poem, her 
 victory over him as a critic was great, but his 
 final words drowned in fierce light the flame of 
 her art's enthusiasm. 
 
 Once more a man's voice came to her, filled 
 with entreaty and command, but in this case 
 401
 
 ROSE OF BUTCHER'S COOLLY 
 
 she had no reservations. It was well, it was 
 inevitable, and it was glorious to set her face 
 toward wifehood and fame with such a man as 
 companion, friend and lover. 
 
 A couple of weeks later, Mason came down 
 from his room with a grim look on his face. 
 He stepped out on the porch and stood there 
 feeling the change in the air. The summer 
 was over. 
 
 Rose came out, and he put his arm about her. 
 
 " Hark! " he commanded. " Do you hear the 
 wind in the treetops ? It brings me the roar of 
 the city this morning. I hear the grind of cars, 
 the roar of mills, the throb of presses ; the city 
 calls me and I must go. My vacation is over. 
 I must say good-by tonight." 
 
 "It's very beautiful up here now," she said a 
 little wistfully. "The sumac is beginning to 
 turn and the hills are like jewels." 
 
 "Oh yes, it is beautiful," he said smiling a 
 little. "But down there life is. Infinite novelty, 
 ceaseless change. As you love the country, so 
 I love the city. It is a greater pleasure to me 
 to meet men than trees, and concerts are more 
 than winds in the pines. Artist souls, poets, 
 people who do and think, are there, and so I 
 must go." 
 
 "When shall I go?" she asked. 
 
 "When you please," he said. "I have no 
 
 402
 
 THE WIND IN THE TREETOPS 
 
 commands. You are perfectly free to do as you 
 like. I need you always now." 
 
 "Then I will go tonight," she said firmly. 
 
 He turned his eyes upon her in a look she 
 never forgot. 
 
 "My dearest girl, do you realize what you 
 are doing ? Do you realize that you are enter 
 ing upon a problematical line of action that 
 you are inviting pain and sorrow and care, that 
 you are leaving girlhood and leisure behind 
 that you are entering gates that never swing 
 outward. Do you know this once more and 
 finally, do you realize all this ?" 
 
 She stood before him stronger than he; he 
 felt it. She knew him at last since that touch 
 of his lips to her arm, since that look in his 
 eyes and she said: "I realize it all, and I 
 choose it." 
 
 403
 
 PRINTED AT THE LAKESIDE PRESS 
 
 CHICAGO, U. S. A., FOR STONE AND 
 
 KIMBALL MDCCCXCV
 
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 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
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