"You are not going to forget it now.That evening is going to mark the beginning of--oh, Curtis, it is going to be a new beginning of everything.You'll see.I'm going to manage it.I don't know how, but you are going to love me so that nothing, no business, no money, no wheat will ever keep you from me.I will make you.And that evening, that evening of June thirteenth is mine.The day your business can have you, but from six o'clock on you are mine." She crossed the room quickly and took both his hands in hers and knelt beside him."It is mine," she said, if you love me.Do you understand, dear? You will come home at six o'clock, and whatever happens--oh, if all La Salle Street should burn to the ground, and all your millions of bushels of wheat with it--whatever happens, you--will--not--leave--me--nor think of anything else but just me, me.That evening is mine, and you will give it to me, just as I have said.I won't remind you of it again.I won't speak of it again.I will leave it to you.But--you will give me that evening if you love me.Dear, do you see just what I mean?..._If you love me...._ No--no don't say a word, we won't talk about it at all.No, no, please.Not another word.Idon't want you to promise, or pledge yourself, or anything like that.You've heard what I said--and that's all there is about it.We'll talk of something else.By the way, have you seen Mr.Cressler lately?""No," he said, falling into her mood."No haven't seen Charlie in over a month.Wonder what's become of him?""I understand he's been sick," she told him."I met Mrs.Cressler the other day, and she said she was bothered about him.""Well, what's the matter with old Charlie?""She doesn't know, herself.He's not sick enough to go to bed, but he doesn't or won't go down town to his business.She says she can see him growing thinner every day.He keeps telling her he's all right, but for all that, she says, she's afraid he's going to come down with some kind of sickness pretty soon.""'Say," said Jadwin, "suppose we drop around to see them this afternoon? Wouldn't you like to? I haven't seen him in over a month, as I say.Or telephone them to come up and have dinner.Charlie's about as old a friend as I have.We used to be together about every hour of the day when we first came to Chicago.Let's go over to see him this afternoon and cheer him up.""No," said Laura, decisively."Curtis, you must have one day of rest out of the week.You are going to lie down all the rest of the afternoon, and sleep if you can.I'll call on them to-morrow.""Well, all right," he assented."I suppose I ought to sleep if I can.And then Sam is coming up here, by five.He's going to bring some railroad men with him.
We've got a lot to do.Yes, I guess, old girl, I'll try to get forty winks before they get here.And, Laura," he added, taking her hand as she rose to go, "Laura, this is the last lap.In just another month now--oh, at the outside, six weeks--I'll have closed the corner, and then, old girl, you and I will go somewheres, anywhere you like, and then we'll have a good time together all the rest of our lives--all the rest of our lives, honey.Good-by.Now I think I can go to sleep."She arranged the cushions under his head and drew the curtains close over the windows, and went out, softly closing the door behind her.And a half hour later, when she stole in to look at him, she found him asleep at last, the tired eyes closed, and the arm, with its broad, strong hand, resting under his head.She stood a long moment in the middle of the room, looking down at him; and then slipped out as noiselessly as she had come, the tears trembling on her eyelashes.
Laura Jadwin did not call on the Cresslers the next day, nor even the next after that.For three days she kept indoors, held prisoner by a series of petty incidents; now the delay in the finishing of her new gowns, now by the excessive heat, now by a spell of rain.By Thursday, however, at the beginning of the second week of the month, the storm was gone, and the sun once more shone.Early in the afternoon Laura telephoned to Mrs.Cressler.
"How are you and Mr.Cressler?" she asked."I'm coming over to take luncheon with you and your husband, if you will let me.""Oh, Charlie is about the same, Laura," answered Mrs.
Cressler's voice."I guess the dear man has been working too hard, that's all.Do come over and cheer him up.If I'm not here when you come, you just make yourself at home.I've got to go down town to see about railroad tickets and all.I'm going to pack my old man right off to Oconomowoc before I'm another day older.Made up my mind to it last night, and I don't want him to be bothered with tickets or time cards, or baggage or anything.I'll run down and do it all myself.You come right up whenever you're ready and keep Charlie company.How's your husband, Laura child?""Oh, Curtis is well," she answered."He gets very tired at times.""Well, I can understand it.Lands alive, child whatever are you going to do with all your money? They tell me that J.has made millions in the last three or four months.A man I was talking to last week said his corner was the greatest thing ever known on the Chicago Board of Trade.Well, good-by, Laura, come up whenever you're ready.I'll see you at lunch Charlie is right here.He says to give you his love." An hour later Laura's victoria stopped in front of the Cressler's house, and the little footman descended with the agility of a monkey, to stand, soldier-like, at the steps, the lap robe over his arm.
Laura gave orders to have the victoria call for her at three, and ran quickly up the front steps.The front entrance was open, the screen door on the latch, and she entered without ceremony.
"Mrs.Cressler!" she called, as she stood in the hallway drawing off her gloves."Mrs.Cressler!
Carrie, have you gone yet?"
But the maid, Annie, appeared at the head of the stairs, on the landing of the second floor, a towel bound about her head, her duster in her hand.
"Mrs.Cressler has gone out, Mrs.Jadwin," she said.
"She said you was to make yourself at home, and she'd be back by noon."Laura nodded, and standing before the hatrack in the hall, took off her hat and gloves, and folded her veil into her purse.The house was old-fashioned, very homelike and spacious, cool, with broad halls and wide windows.In the "front library," where Laura entered first, were steel engravings of the style of the seventies, "whatnots" crowded with shells, Chinese coins, lacquer boxes, and the inevitable sawfish bill.
The mantel was mottled white marble, and its shelf bore the usual bronze and gilt clock, decorated by a female figure in classic draperies, reclining against a globe.
An oil painting of a mountain landscape hung against one wall; and on a table of black walnut, with a red marble slab, that stood between the front windows, were a stereoscope and a rosewood music box.
The piano, an old style Chickering, stood diagonally across the far corner of the room, by the closed sliding doors, and Laura sat down here and began to play the "Mephisto Walzer," which she had been at pains to learn since the night Corthell had rendered it on her great organ in the art gallery.
But when she had played as much as she could remember of the music, she rose and closed the piano, and pushed back the folding doors between the room she was in and the "back library," a small room where Mrs.Cressler kept her books of poetry.
As Laura entered the room she was surprised to see Mr.
Cressler there, seated in his armchair, his back turned toward her.
"Why, I didn't know you were here, Mr.Cressler," she said, as she came up to him.
She laid her hand upon his arm.But Cressler was dead;and as Laura touched him the head dropped upon the shoulder and showed the bullet hole in the temple, just in front of the ear.
