Bought and Paid For; From the Play of George Broadhurst Part 3

In vain Virginia and f.a.n.n.y protested. Their mother refused to listen to them. This dress, she insisted, was her one joy in life. It would be cruel to deprive her of anything which afforded her so much pleasure. They said no more, but they noticed with alarm that each day their mother seemed to age a year. Her cheeks became more hollow, her face more chalky white. She complained continually of pains in the region of the heart, and it was plainly discernible that she was rapidly growing more feeble.

One day when Dr. Everett was paying them one of his regular weekly visits Virginia took him aside and told him of her anxiety. He seemed to know already what she had to say. Taking both her hands in his, in that big-hearted, paternal manner so characteristic of him, he said impressively:

"Dear child--you must be brave. You cannot expect to have your mother always with you. She is tired and world-weary. She has earned that beautiful, eternal sleep which alone brings perfect peace. An organic disease of the heart, which remained latent up to the time of your father's death, has now become very p.r.o.nounced. Trouble and sorrow have aggravated the condition. Your mother may live for years; then again she may pa.s.s away from us any time. One never can tell what will happen when the heart is in that state."

A long spell of weeping followed this confidential chat with the doctor, and for days Virginia went about only a shadow of her former self.

How cruel was life! she mused. First to lose her father, and now her best, her only friend! What would she do when her mother was gone?

f.a.n.n.y was hardly a companion. She was so different; her tastes and pursuits were not the same. There was not the same bond of sympathy between them. If anything happened, they would, of course, go on living together as usual, but how different their life would be!

Nothing further had been said regarding Mr. Gillie's proposal. f.a.n.n.y had not mentioned it again, and both Virginia and Mrs. Blaine were silent. Instinctively f.a.n.n.y knew that her mother and sister disapproved of the match and inwardly she resented it. Why should they interfere with her happiness? She had a right to look after her own interests. What better offer could she expect? Suppose James was a rough diamond; he might still make a better husband than some other man better educated. He had had no advantages, but he was respectable and clever. Everyone admitted that he was smart. His ideas were simply wonderful. One of these days he would make a lot of money with his brains, and then she would be proud to be his wife. Thus she reasoned and, once she made up her mind, nothing could alter it. Mr. Gillie continued his visits and made himself quite at home until, at last, they all called him by his first name and it became quite natural to see him there. There was no more talk of marriage, but both Mrs.

Blaine and Virginia soon arrived at the conclusion that he and f.a.n.n.y were tacitly engaged.

Virginia sometimes wondered if she herself would ever marry, and, if so, what kind of man she would choose for a husband. What she knew and heard of marriage had not filled her with any keen anxiety to enter the married state, or with any profound respect for matrimony as a social inst.i.tution. In theory it was beautiful; in practice it left much to be desired. Like any thoughtful girl having a broad, sane outlook on life, she fully appreciated the dangers and unhappiness that may attend unions entered into lightly and carelessly, without such safeguards as regards morals and health, as a paternal State should properly control.

Although a girl of high moral principles, she was not innocent. Are there any such? Innocence is, of necessity, the sister of ignorance.

The conditions of modern existence render it impossible for any girl, once she has attained the age of fifteen, to continue unacquainted with the main facts of life, and some are initiated at an even tenderer age. How is it possible for any maiden to remain unenlightened in this regard these days when sensational, muck-raking prints throw the searchlight of publicity into every boudoir and spicy details of society's philandering fill column after column in the breakfast table newspaper? No matter how little curiosity a healthy-minded girl may have, by reason of a natural coldness of temperament, to acquire such knowledge, it becomes, in spite of her, part of her daily surroundings and she cannot escape its contaminating, demoralizing influence.

Virginia was no fool. Now nearly nineteen, she knew everything about life which an intelligent girl should know. What puzzled her most was to determine her own mental att.i.tude towards marriage. Not yet having met a man for whom she could feel any especial regard, the idea of forming with any man as close an a.s.sociation as marriage would mean was repellent to her. The intimate relation the marital tie pre-supposes frightened and appalled her as it has done many times before thousands of pa.s.sionless, strongly intellectual women who, bringing cold a.n.a.lysis to bear on the s.e.xual instinct, rebel at the subordinate, humiliating role which the weaker s.e.x is called upon to play in Nature's vast and wonderfully complex scheme.

Not that she was pa.s.sionless or lacking in temperament. The girl in "whose veins ran lightning" could hardly be accused of indifference to the opposite s.e.x. She liked several young men, but there was not one of them whom she could bring herself to think of in the light of a husband. Girls often married for other than sentimental reasons. Of that she was well aware. Self-interest was at the bottom of most marriages. Cupid, guileless as he seems, is often a shrewd, calculating little gnome in disguise. If a girl has no means, no friends, no way of earning a living, what is going to become of her unless she seeks refuge in marriage? Her first instinct is to find a husband, a man sufficiently well off to support both. There was, of course, only one word with which to brand that sort of thing. It was a legalized form of prost.i.tution, an approved system of cohabitation which must be horrible and detestable to any girl of decent instincts, no matter which way she looked at it, and yet it was a state of white slavery which society fully condoned and ever approved. Hundreds of virtuous girls thus sold themselves--to the highest bidder. The slums had no monopoly of the white slave traffic; it flourished equally well on fas.h.i.+onable Fifth Avenue, where its countless victims, for the honor of the system, managed to conceal their tears from the world.

What did bridge-playing mothers care about their daughters' happiness so long as they were able to procure for them rich men who could give them fine houses, servants, and automobiles? It was all hideous and ghastly, when viewed thus sanely, and Virginia shuddered as she thought of it. To such degradation as this she would never sink. Never would she marry a man whom she did not truly love. If it came to the worst she would go as domestic servant or even starve rather than surrender her self-respect.

Graduation day was almost at hand, but the dress was still unfinished.

There was considerable work yet to be done on it. The nearer came the important event, the more nervous and exhausted Mrs. Blaine showed herself. She had already had several fainting spells and on one occasion the girls were so alarmed that they thought the end had come, peacefully and suddenly. But the widow rallied and, in spite of her daughter's protests, insisted on continuing with her work. Marvelling at her determination, touched by this pathetic exhibition of maternal devotion, Virginia would sit silently for hours, her eyes filled with tears, watching the dear, tired fingers swiftly and skillfully plying the needle.

One evening the little family was a.s.sembled in the stuffy parlor back of the store. Mrs. Blaine, tired after a long day's toil, had sunk back in her armchair, dozing. Her head had fallen forward on her breast, a piece of hemming on her knee. In order not to disturb her, the girls conversed in low tones. Virginia was reading, her favorite occupation, while her elder sister, engaged perhaps more usefully, was darning stockings.

Suddenly the front door bell rang. With an anxious glance at her mother to make sure that the noise had not disturbed her, f.a.n.n.y tip-toed out of the room and presently returned, followed by James Gillie. The s.h.i.+pping clerk entered clumsily, in his characteristic, noisy style. Jocularly he cried out:

"Good evening, everybody!"

Virginia quickly held up a protesting finger, while f.a.n.n.y exclaimed angrily:

"Don't you see that mother's asleep?"

Throwing his hat and coat on a sofa, the newcomer sat down gingerly on a chair. With a glance at the old lady, he demanded:

"What's she sleepin' here for? Why don't she go to bed?"

Virginia, always irritated by his _gaucheries,_ pretended not to hear and went on with her book, but f.a.n.n.y answered him. In a whisper she said:

"She's tired out." Anxiously she, added: "I don't like the way she looks to-day. I think it's the heart. I'll telephone the doctor to-morrow--"

Jimmie gave a snort of disapproval.

"Pshaw! What's the good?" he exclaimed contemptuously. "Those doctors can't do nothing; they're the worst kind of fakers. All they do is to look wise, scribble on a bit of paper some words no one can read--not even the druggist--and charge you a two-spot. It's to laugh!"

"Dr. Everett doesn't charge us anything--so you're wrong for once,"

interrupted Virginia, glad of the opportunity to give him a dig.

"I ain't talkin' about any particular doctor," went on the s.h.i.+pping clerk, unabashed. "I'm agin all doctors. They're a bunch of crooks, I tell you. It's you women with your imaginary ailments who keep 'em going. If doctors had to depend on men for a living, they'd have to take to shovelling snow."

"Hardly in summer time," said Virginia dryly.

"No," he retorted as quickly; "then they could run ice cream parlors."

f.a.n.n.y, who had resumed darning her socks, smiled. She enjoyed these little encounters between her sister and her fiance. Virginia was no mean antagonist when it came to an argument, but she was no match for Jimmie. However, thinking the sparring had gone far enough, she adroitly changed the conversation.

"Well, how's business to-day, Jim?"

"Oh, on the blink--as usual. Nothing doing; I'm sick of the whole outfit. But say, girls--!"

"What?" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y.

"You won't tell anyone if I tell you something?"

Virginia looked up from her book. Even she was interested.

"No," said f.a.n.n.y, "we won't tell. What is it?"

Jimmie sat up and cleared his throat as if preparing to make some highly important communication. Then, leaning forward, he said in an impressive tone:

"I've got the greatest idea--"

"Really?" exclaimed Virginia sceptically.

Too full of egotism and self-importance to note her sarcasm, the young man beamed with self-satisfaction as he proceeded enthusiastically:

"Greatest thing you ever heard of! There's millions in it. My name will ring round the world. If only I can get the backing, my fortune is made--"

f.a.n.n.y's face flushed with pleasure as she bent eagerly forward to hear every detail of this scheme which would some day make her a rich woman. Even if the dream never came true, the mere hope that it might was enough to give her a thrill. Virginia remained cold. She was more cynical, having already heard many speeches of the same kind and from the same quarter--all dealing with wonderful projects that invariably met with a sudden death. This announcement of a new idea, therefore, did not even make her look up.

Expanding his chest, Jimmie proceeded with dignity.

"This idea of mine will revolutionize railroad travel in this country--do you know that? It will bring Chicago far nearer New York than it is now. How? By cutting down the running time of the fastest trains. When the railroad men hear of it--and see how simple it is--they'll hail me as a public benefactor--"

"But what is it?" interrupted f.a.n.n.y eagerly. "You haven't told us what it is."

Beaming with self-importance, he tilted forward on his chair. f.a.n.n.y, tense with the excitement of suspense, strained her ears. Even Virginia deigned to stop reading and pay attention. Clearing his throat he began:

"You must first understand that the chief difficulty railroads meet with in maintaining a fast schedule is the vexatious delays caused by stops at way-stations. My idea does away with all stops. I eliminate them entirely, and yet I pick up all the pa.s.sengers who wish to travel by that particular train--"

He stopped and looked at them as if he expected exclamations of wonder and demands for further explanation. Virginia looked puzzled. f.a.n.n.y, quite excited, beamed with enthusiasm.

"How do you do it?" exclaimed the elder sister admiringly. a.s.suredly she had made no mistake when she had selected so gifted a life partner.

"Yes," demanded Virginia. "How do you pick them up?"