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Updated: June 24, 2025
Lie down, sissie, dear," she begged, "you're letting all the cold air in." Laura complied, and the two sisters, their noses all but touching, the bedclothes up to their ears, put their arms about each other to keep the warmer. But before the "count" was decided Aunt Wess' came in, already dressed, and in a breath the two girls implored her to light the stove.
Then, tiring of Lady Macbeth, she took up Juliet, Portia, and Ophelia; each with appropriate costumes, studying with tireless avidity, and frightening Aunt Wess' with her declaration that "she might go on the stage after all." She even entertained the notion of having Sheldon Corthell paint her portrait as Lady Macbeth.
With his fists clenched and the cold sweat on his forehead, he waited by the roadside for the dark rider, who was coming like the wind. "Hello!" The puffing horse was pulled sharply to a standstill. "Oh, Wess!" His determination to die without a sound ended in a broken cry of gladness, and he wrapped an arm around the hired man's leg to hold him. "Bruce! What you doin' here?" "They plagued me.
She clasped her hands imploringly, supplicating him to leave her, exclaiming from time to time: "Va via, va via Vel chieco per pieta." Then all at once, while the orchestra blared, they fell into each other's arms. "Why do they do that?" murmured Aunt Wess' perplexed. "I thought the gentleman with the beard didn't like her at all."
Sheldon Corthell, in a dinner coat, an unlighted cigarette between his fingers, discussed the spring exhibit of water-colors with Laura and Mrs. Aunt Wess' turned the leaves of a family album, counting the number of photographs of Mrs. Cressler which it contained. Black coffee had just been served.
Oh, it was all very well to speak lightly of marriage, to consider it in a vein of mirth. Only last week she had deceived Aunt Wess' in the matter of one of her "young men." It was time she stopped. To-day would mark a change. Henceforward, she resolved, she would lead a new life. "God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost ..."
And such whisky as Wess kept! used to go cruising around the back country, sampling little lots run out of private stills. He'd always find nectar, you'd better believe. Poor old boy! the tremens took him off at last.
But Aunt Wess' could, at first, rarely be induced to pay the household a visit. So much grandeur made the little widow uneasy, even a little suspicious. She would shake her head at Laura, murmuring: "My word, it's all very fine, but, dear me, Laura, I hope you do pay for everything on the nail, and don't run up any bills. I don't know what your dear father would say to it all, no, I don't."
One went there to cherish the few that yet remained. But," he added, without change of manner, "one begins to believe that even a lost illusion can be very beautiful sometimes even in Chicago." "I want you to dine with us," said Laura. "You've hardly met my husband, and I think you will like some of our pictures. I will have all your old friends there, the Cresslers and Aunt Wess, and all.
Now and then I tell myself, and even poor, dear Aunt Wess', that I shall never love anybody, that I shall never marry. But I should be bitterly sorry if I thought that was true. It is one of the greatest happinesses to which I look forward, that some day I shall love some one with all my heart and soul, and shall be a true wife, and find my husband's love for me the sweetest thing in my life.
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