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Laura　looked；　suddenly　stupefied。　　Here　it　was；　then；　that　other　drama；　that　other　tragedy；　working　on　there　furiously；　fiercely　through　the　night；　while　she　and　all　those　others　had　sat　there　in　that　atmosphere　of　flowers　and　perfume；　listening　to　music。　　Suddenly　it　loomed　portentous　in　the　eye　of　her　mind；　terrible；　tremendous。　　Ah；　this　drama　of　the　〃Provision　Pits；〃　where　the　rush　of　millions　of　bushels　of　grain；　and　the　clatter　of　millions　of　dollars；　and　the　tramping　and　the　wild　shouting　of　thousands　of　men　filled　all　the　air　with　the　noise　of　battle！　Yes；　here　was　drama　in　deadly　earnestdrama　and　tragedy　and　death；　and　the　jar　of　mortal　fighting。　　And　the　echoes　of　it　invaded　the　very　sanctuary　of　art；　and　cut　athwart　the　music　of　Italy　and　the　cadence　of　polite　conversation；　and　the　shock　of　it　endured　when　all　the　world　should　have　slept；　and　galvanised　into　vivid　life　all　these　sombre　piles　of　office　buildings。　　It　was　dreadful；　this　labour　through　the　night。　　It　had　all　the　significance　of　field　hospitals　after　the　battlehospitals　and　the　tents　of　commanding　generals。　　The　wounds　of　the　day　were　being　bound　up；　the　dead　were　being　counted；　while；　shut　in　their　headquarters；　the　captains　and　the　commanders　drew　the　plans　for　the　grapple　of　armies　that　was　to　recommence　with　daylight。

〃Yes；　yes；　that's　just　what　it　is；〃　continued　Page。　〃See；　there's　the　Rookery；　and　there's　the　Constable　Building；　where　Mr。　Helmick　has　his　offices。　　Landry　showed　me　it　all　one　day。　　And；　look　back。〃　　She　raised　the　flap　that　covered　the　little　window　at　the　back　of　the　carriage。　　〃See；　down　there；　at　the　end　of　the　street。　　There's　the　Board　of　Trade　Building；　where　the　grain　speculating　is　done；where　the　wheat　pits　and　corn　pits　are。〃

Laura　turned　and　looked　back。　　On　either　side　of　the　vista　in　converging　lines　stretched　the　blazing　office　buildings。　　But　over　the　end　of　the　street　the　lead…　coloured　sky　was　rifted　a　little。　　A　long；　faint　bar　of　light　stretched　across　the　prospect；　and　silhouetted　against　this　rose　a　sombre　mass；　unbroken　by　any　lights；　rearing　a　black　and　formidable　facade　against　the　blur　of　light　behind　it。

And　this　was　her　last　impression　of　the　evening。　　The　lighted　office　buildings；　the　murk　of　rain；　the　haze　of　light　in　the　heavens；　and　raised　against　it　the　pile　of　the　Board　of　Trade　Building；　black；　grave；　monolithic；　crouching　on　its　foundations；　like　a　monstrous　sphinx　with　blind　eyes；　silent；　grave；crouching　there　without　a　sound；　without　sign　of　life　under　the　night　and　the　drifting　veil　of　rain。



II


Laura　Dearborn's　native　town　was　Barrington；　in　Worcester　County；　Massachusetts。　　Both　she　and　Page　had　been　born　there；　and　there　had　lived　until　the　death　of　their　father；　at　a　time　when　Page　was　ready　for　the　High　School。　　The　mother；　a　North　Carolina　girl；　had　died　long　before。

Laura's　education　had　been　unusual。　　After　leaving　the　High　School　her　father　had　for　four　years　allowed　her　a　private　tutor　（an　impecunious　graduate　from　the　Harvard　Theological　School）。　　She　was　ambitious；　a　devoted　student；　and　her　instructor's　task　was　rather　to　guide　than　to　enforce　her　application。　　She　soon　acquired　a　reading　knowledge　of　French；　and　knew　her　Racine　in　the　original　almost　as　well　as　her　Shakespeare。　　Literature　became　for　her　an　actual　passion。　　She　delved　into　Tennyson　and　the　Victorian　poets；　and　soon　was　on　terms　of　intimacy　with　the　poets　and　essayists　of　New　England。　　The　novelists　of　the　day　she　ignored　almost　completely；　and　voluntarily。　　Only　occasionally；　and　then　as　a　concession；　she　permitted　herself　a　reading　of　Mr。　Howells。

Moderately　prosperous　while　he　himself　was　conducting　his　little　mill；　Dearborn　had　not　been　able　to　put　by　any　money　to　speak　of；　and　when　Laura　and　the　local　lawyer　had　come　to　close　up　the　business；　to　dispose　of　the　mill；　and　to　settle　the　claims　against　what　the　lawyer　grandiloquently　termed　〃the　estate；〃　there　was　just　enough　money　left　to　pay　for　Page's　tickets　to　Chicago　and　a　course　of　tuition　for　her　at　a　seminary。

The　Cresslers　on　the　event　of　Dearborn's　death　had　advised　both　sisters　to　come　West；　and　had　pledged　themselves　to　look　after　Page　during　the　period　of　her　schooling。　　Laura　had　sent　the　little　girl　on　at　once；　but　delayed　taking　the　step　herself。

Fortunately；　the　two　sisters　were　not　obliged　to　live　upon　their　inheritance。　　Dearborn　himself　had　a　sister　a　twin　of　Aunt　Wess'who　had　married　a　wealthy　woollen　merchant　of　Boston；　and　this　one；　long　since；　had　provided　for　the　two　girls。　　A　large　sum　had　been　set　aside；　which　was　to　be　made　over　to　them　when　the　father　died。　　For　years　now　this　sum　had　been　accumulating　interest。　　So　that　when　Laura　and　Page　faced　the　world；　alone；　upon　the　steps　of　the　Barrington　cemetery；　they　had　the　assurance　that；　at　least；　they　were　independent。

For　two　years；　in　the　solidly　built　colonial　dwelling；　with　its　low　ceilings　and　ample　fireplaces；　where　once　the　minute…men　had　swung　their　kettles；　Laura；　alone；　thought　it　all　over。　　Mother　and　father　were　dead；　even　the　Boston　aunt　was　dead。　　Of　all　her　relations；　Aunt　Wess'　alone　remained。　　Page　was　at　her　finishing　school　at　Geneva　Lake；　within　two　hours　of　Chicago。　　The　Cresslers　were　the　dearest　friends　of　the　orphan　girls。　Aunt　Wess'；　herself　a　widow；　living　also　in　Chicago；　added　her　entreaties　to　Mrs。　Cressler's。　　All　things　seemed　to　point　her　westward；　all　things　seemed　to　indicate　that　one　phase　of　her　life　was　ended。

Then；　too；　she　had　her　ambitions。　　These　hardly　took　definite　shape　in　her　mind；　but　vaguely　she　chose　to　see　herself；　at　some　far…distant　day；　an　actress；　a　tragedienne；　playing　the　roles　of　Shakespeare's　heroines。　　This　idea　of　hers　was　more　a　desire　than　an　ambition；　but　it　could　not　be　realised　in　Barrington；　Massachusetts。　　For　a　year　she　temporised；　procrastinated；　loth　to　leave　the　old　home；　loth　to　leave　the　grave　in　the　cemetery　back　of　the　Methodist…　Episcopal　chapel。　　Twice　during　this　time　she　visited　Page；　and　each　time　the　great　grey　city　threw　the　spell　of　its　fascination　about　her。　　Each　time　she　returned　to　Barrington　the　town　dwindled　in　her　estimation。　　It　was　picturesque；　but　lamentably　narrow。　　The　life　was　barren；　the　〃New　England　spirit〃　prevailed　in　all　its　severity；　and　this　spirit　seemed　to　her　a　veritable　cult；　a　sort　of　religion；　wherein　the　Old　Maid　was　the　priestess；　the　Spinster　the　officiating　devotee；　the　thing　worshipped　the　Great　Unbeautiful；　and　the　ritual　unremitting；　unrelenting　Housework。　　She　detested　it。

That　she　was　an　Episcopalian；　and　preferred　to　read　her　prayers　rather　than　to　listen　to　those　written　and　memorised　by　the　Presbyterian　minister；　seemed　to　be　regarded　as　a　relic　of　heathenish　ritesa　thing　almost　cannibalistic。　　When　she　elected　to　engage　a　woman　and　a　〃hired　man〃　to　manage　her　house；　she　felt　the　disapprobation　of　the　entire　village；　as　if　she　had　sunk　into　some　decadent　and　enervating　Lower…Empire　degeneracy。

The　crisis　came　when　Laura　travelled　alone　to　Boston　to　hear　Modjeska　in　〃Marie　Stuart〃　and　〃Macbeth；〃　and　upon　returning　full　of　enthusiasm；　allowed　it　to　be　understood　that　she　had　a　half…formed　desire　of　emulating　such　an　example。　　A　group　of　lady…　deaconesses；　headed　by　the　Presbyterian　minister；　called　upon　her；　with　some　intention　of　reasoning　and　labouring　with　her。

They　got　no　farther　than　the　statement　of　the　cause　of　this　visit。　　The　spirit　and　temper　of　the　South；　that　she　had　from　her　mother；　flamed　up　in　Laura　at　last；　and　the　members　of　the　〃committee；〃　before　they　were　well　aware；　came　to　themselves　in　the　street　outside　the　front　gate；　dazed　and　bewildered；　staring　at　each　other；　all　confounded　and　stunned　by　the　violence　of　an　outbreak　of　long…repressed　emotion　and　long…restrained　anger；　that　like　an　actual　physical　force　had　swept　them　out　of　the　house。

At　the　same　moment　Laura；　thrown　across　her　bed；　wept　with　a　vehemence　that　shook　her　from　head　to　foot。　But　she　had　not　the　least　compunction　for　what　she　had　said；　and　before　the　month　was　out　had　said　good…by　to　Barrington　forever；　and　was　on　her　way　to　Chicago；　henceforth　to　be　her　home。

A　house　was　bought　on　the　North　Side；　and　it　was　arranged　that　Aunt　Wess'　should　live　with　her　two　nieces。　　Pending　the　installation　Laura　and　Page　lived　at　a　little　family　hotel　in　the　same　neighbourhood。　The　Cresslers'　invitation　to　join　the　theatre　party　at　the　Auditorium　had　fallen　inopportunely　enough；　squarely　in　the　midst　of　the　ordeal　of　moving　in。　Indeed　the　two　girls　had　already　passed　one　night　in　the　new　home；　and　they　must　dress　for　the　affair　by　lamplight　in　their　unfurnished　quarters　and　under　inconceivable　difficulties。　　Only　the　lure　of　Italian　opera；　heard　from　a　box；　could　have　tempted　them　to　have　accepted　the　invitation　at　such　a　time　and　under　such　circumstances。

The　morning　after　the　opera；　Laura　woke　in　her　bed　almost　the　only　article　of　furniture　that　was　in　place　in　the　whole　housewith　the　depressing　consciousness　of　a　hard　day's　work　at　hand。　　Outside　it　was　still　raining；　the　room　was　cold；　heated　only　by　an　inadequate　oil　stove；　and　through　the　slats　of　the　inside　shutters；　which；　pending　the　hanging　of　the　curtains　they　had　been　obliged　to　close；　was　filtering　a　gloomy　light　of　a　wet　Chicago　morning。

It　was　all　very　mournful；　and　she　regretted　now　that　she　had　not　abided　by　her　original　decision　to　remain　at　the　hotel　until　the　new　house　was　ready　for　occupancy。　　But　it　had　happened　that　their　month　at　the　hotel　was　just　up；　and　rather　than　engage　the　rooms　for　another　four　weeks　she　had　thought　it　easier　as　well　as　cheaper　to　come　to　the　house。　　It　was　all　a　new　experience　for　her；　and　she　had　imagined　that　everything　could　be　moved　in；　put　in　place；　and　the　household　running　smoothly　in　a　week's　time。

She　sat　up　in　bed；　hugging　her　shoulders　against　the　chill　of　the　room　and　looking　at　her　theatre　gown；　thatin　default　of　a　clean　closetshe　had　hung　from　the　gas　fixture　the　night　before。　　From　the　direction　of　the　kitchen　came　the　sounds　of　the　newly　engaged　〃girl〃　making　the　fire　for　breakfast；　while　through　the　register　a　thin　wisp　of　blue　smoke　curled　upward　to　prove　that　the　〃hired　man〃　was　tinkering　with　the　unused　furnace。　　The　room　itself　was