CHAPTER XXXIX
SUSIE WINTHROP APPEARS AGAIN
Our story passes rapidly over the scenes and events of the summer andfall of '71. Another heavy blow fell upon Dennis in the loss of hisold friend and instructor, Mr. Bruder.
By prayer and effort, his own and others, he was saved morally andspiritually, but he had been greatly shattered by past excess. He wasattacked by typhoid fever, and after a few days' illness died. Recoveryfrom this disease depends largely upon strength and purity ofconstitution. But every one of the innumerable glasses of liquor thatpoor Bruder had swallowed had helped to rob him of these, and so therewas no power to resist.
Under her husband's improved finances, Mrs. Bruder had removed tocomfortable lodgings in Harrison Street, and these she determined tokeep if possible, dreading for the sake of her children the influencesof a crowded tenement house. Dennis stood by her, a stanch and helpfulfriend; Ernst was earning a good little sum weekly, and by her needleand washtub the patient woman continued the hard battle of life withfair prospects of success.
Dennis's studio was on the south side, at the top of a tall buildingoverlooking the lake. Even before the early summer sun rose above theshining waves he was at his easel, and so accomplished what is a fairday's work before many of his profession had left their beds. Thoughhe worked hard and long, he still worked judiciously. Bent uponaccomplishing what was almost impossible within the limited timeremaining, he determined that, with all his labor, Dr. Arten shouldnever charge him with suicidal tendencies again. Therefore he trainedhimself mentally and morally for his struggle as the athlete trainshimself physically.
He believed in the truth, too little recognized among brain-workers,that men can develop themselves into splendid mental conditions, whereinthey can accomplish almost double their ordinary amount of labor.
The year allotted to the competitors for the prize to be given inOctober was all too short for such a work as he had attempted, andthrough his own, his mother's, and Mr. Bruder's illness, he had losta third of the time, but in the careful and skilful manner indicatedhe was trying to make it up. He had a long conversation with shrewdold Dr. Arten, who began to take a decided interest in him. He alsoread several books on hygiene. Thus he worked under the guidance ofreason, science, Christian principle, instead of mere impulse, as istoo often the case with genius.
In the absorption of his task he withdrew utterly from society, and,with the exception of his mission class, Christian worship on theSabbath, and attendance on a little prayer-meeting in a neglectedquarter during the week, he permitted no other demands upon his timeand thoughts.
His pictures had sold for sufficient to provide for his sisters andenable him to live, with close economy, till after the prize was given,and then, if he did not gain it (of which he was not at all sure), hispainting would sell for enough to meet future needs.
And so we leave him for a time earnestly at work. He was like a shipthat had been driven hither and thither, tempest-tossed and in danger.At last, under a clear sky and in smooth water, it finds its truebearings, and steadily pursues its homeward voyage.
The Christine whom he had first learned to love in happyunconsciousness, while they arranged the store together, became aglorified, artistic ideal. The Christine whom he had learned to knowas false and heartless was now to him a strange, fascinating, unwomanlycreature, beautiful only as the Sirens were beautiful, that he mightwreck himself body and soul before her unpitying eyes. He sought tobanish all thought of her.
Christine returned about midsummer. She was compelled to note, as sheneared her native city, that of all the objects it contained DennisFleet was uppermost in her thoughts. She longed to go to the store andsee him once more, even though it should be only at a distance, withnot even the shadow of recognition between them. She condemned it allas folly, and worse than vain, but that made no difference to herheart, which would have its way.
Almost trembling with excitement she entered the Art Building the nextday, and glanced around with a timidity that was in marked contrastto her usual cold and critical regard. But, as the reader knows, DennisFleet was not to be seen. From time to time she went again, but neitherhe nor Ernst appeared. She feared that for some reason he had gone,and determined to learn the truth. Throwing off the strange timidityand restraint that ever embarrassed her where he was concerned, shesaid to Mr. Schwartz one day: "I don't like the way that picture ishung. Where is Mr. Fleet? I believe he has charge of that department."
"Why, bless you! Miss Ludolph," replied Mr. Schwartz, with a look ofsurprise, "Mr. Ludolph discharged him over two months ago."
"Discharged him! what for?"
"For being away too much, I heard," said old Schwartz, with a shrugindicating that that might be the reason and might not.
Christine came to the store but rarely thereafter, for it had lost itschief element of interest. That evening she said to her father, "Youhave discharged Mr. Fleet?"
"Yes," was the brief answer.
"May I ask the reason?"
"He was away too much."
"That is not the real reason," she said, turning suddenly upon him."Father, what is the use of treating me as a child? What is the useof trying to lock things up and keep them from me? I intend to go toGermany with you this fall, and that is sufficient."
With a courtly smile Mr. Ludolph replied, "And I have lived long enough,my daughter, to know that what people _intend_, and what they _do_ aretwo very different things."
She flushed angrily and said: "It was most unjust to discharge him asyou did. Do you not remember that he offered his mother's services asnurse when I was dreading the smallpox?"
"You are astonishingly grateful in this case," said her father, witha meaning that Christine understood too well; "but, if you will readthe records of the Ludolph race, you will find that its representativeshave often been compelled to do things somewhat arbitrarily. Since youhave been gone, I have received letters announcing the death of mybrother and his wife. I am now Baron Ludolph!"
But Christine was too angry and too deeply wounded to note thisinformation, which at one time would have elated her beyond measure.She coldly said, "It is a pity that noblemen are compelled to aughtbut noble deeds"; and, with this parting arrow, she left him.
Even her father winced, and then with a heavy frown said, "It is wellthat this Yankee youth has vanished; still, the utmost vigilance isrequired."
Again he saw the treacherous maid and promised increased reward if shewould be watchful, and inform him of every movement of Christine.
In the unobtrusive ways that her sensitive pride permitted, Christinetried to find out what had become of Dennis, but vainly. She offeredher maid a large reward if she would discover him, but she had beenpromised a larger sum not to find him, and so did not. The impressionwas given that he had left the city, and Christine feared, with asickening dread, that she would never see him again. But one eveningMr. Cornell stated a fact in a casual way that startled both Mr. andMiss Ludolph.
He was calling at their house, and they were discussing the comingexhibition of the pictures which would compete for the prize.
"By the way, your former clerk and porter is among the competitors;at least he entered the lists last spring, but I have lost sight ofhim since. I imagine he has given it up, and betaken himself to tasksmore within the range of his ability."
The eyes of father and daughter met, but she turned to Mr. Cornell,and said, coolly, though with a face somewhat flushed, "And has Chicagoso much artistic talent that a real genius has no chance here?"
"I was not aware that Mr. Fleet was a genius," answered Mr. Cornell.
"I think that he will satisfy you on that point, and that you willhear from him before the exhibition takes place."
Mr. Ludolph hastily changed the subject, but he had forebodings as tothe future.
Christine went to her room, and thought for a long time; suddenly shearose, exclaiming, "He told me his story once on canvas; I will nowtell him mine."
 
; She at once stretched the canvas on a frame for a small picture, andplaced it on an easel, that she might commence with dawn of day.
During the following weeks she worked scarcely less earnestly andpatiently than Dennis. The door was locked when she painted, and beforeshe left the studio the picture was hidden.
She meant to send it anonymously, so that not even her father shouldknow its authorship. She hoped that Dennis would recognize it.
When she was in the street her eyes began to have an eager, wistfullook, as if she was seeking some one. She often went to galleries, andother resorts of artists, but in vain, for she never met him, thoughat times the distance between them was less than between Evangelineand her lover, when she heard the dip of his oar in her dream. Thoughshe knew that if she met him she would probably give not one encouragingglance, yet the instinct of her heart was just as strong.
Mr. Ludolph told the maid that she must find out what Christine waspainting, and she tried to that degree that she wakened suspicion.
On one occasion Christine turned suddenly on her, and said: "What doyou mean? If I find you false--if I have even good reason to suspectyou--I will turn you into the street, though it be at midnight!"
And the maid learned, as did Mr. Ludolph, that she was not dealingwith a child.
During Monday, October 2, Dennis was employed all the long day ingiving the finishing touches to his picture. It was not worked up asfinely as he could have wished; time did not permit this. But he hadbrought out his thought vividly, and his drawings were full of power.On the following Saturday the prize would be given.
In the evening he walked out for air and exercise. As he was passingone of the large hotels, he heard his name called. Turning, he saw onthe steps, radiant with welcome, his old friend, Susie Winthrop. Herhand was on the arm of a tall gentleman, who seemed to have eyes for heronly. But in her old impulsive way she ran down the steps, andgave Dennis a grasp of the hand that did his lonely heart good. Then,leading him to the scholarly-looking gentleman, who was gazing throughhis glasses in mild surprise, she said: "Professor Leonard, my husband,Mr. Fleet. This is the Dennis Fleet I have told you about so often."
"Oh-h," said the professor, in prolonged accents, while a genial lightshone through his gold spectacles. "Mr. Fleet, we are old acquaintances,though we have never met before. If I were a jealous man, you are theonly one I should fear."
"And we mean to make you wofully jealous to-night, for I intend tohave Mr. Fleet dine with us and spend the evening. Wo, I will take noexcuse, no denial. This infatuated man will do whatever I bid him, andhe is a sort of Greek athlete. If you do not come right along I shallcommand him to lay violent hands on you and drag you ignominiously in."
Dennis was only too glad to accept, but merely wished to make a bettertoilet.
"I have just come from my studio," he said.
"And you wish to go and divest yourself of all artistic flavor andbecome commonplace. Do you imagine I will permit it? No! so march inas my captive. Who ever heard of disputing the will of a bride? Thisman" (pointing up to the tall professor) "never dreams of it."
Dennis learned that she was on her wedding trip, and saw that she washappily married, and proud of her professor, as he of her.
With feminine tact she drew his story from him, and yet it was but ameagre, partial story, like the play of Hamlet with Hamlet left out,for he tried to be wholly silent on his love and disappointment. Butin no respect did he deceive Mrs. Leonard. Her husband went away fora little time. In his absence she asked, abruptly, "Have you seen MissLudolph lately?"
"No!" said Dennis, with a tell-tale flush. Seeing her look of sympathy,and knowing her to be such a true friend, the impulsive young man gavehis confidence almost before he knew it. She was just the one to inspiretrust, and he was very lonely, having had no one to whom he could speakhis deeper feelings since his mother died.
"Miss Ludolph wronged me in a way that a man finds it hard to forgetor forgive," he said, in a low, bitter tone; "but I should have triedto do both had she not treated my mother most inhumanly;" and he toldhis story over again with Hamlet in.
Mrs. Leonard listened with breathless interest, and then said: "Sheis a strange girl, and that plan of making you her unconscious modelis just like her, though it was both cruel and wicked. And yet Mr.Fleet, with shame for my sex I admit it, how many would have flirtedwith you to the same degree from mere vanity and love of excitement!I have seen Miss Ludolph, and I cannot understand her. We are no longerthe friends we once were, but I cannot think her utterly heartless.She is bent upon becoming a great artist at any cost, and I sometimesthink she would sacrifice herself as readily as any one else for thispurpose. She looks to me as if she had suffered, and she has lost muchof her old haughty, cold manner, save when something calls it out.Even in the drawing-room she was abstracted, as if her thoughts werefar away. You are a man of honor, and it is due that you should knowthe following facts. Indeed I do not think that they are a secret anylonger, and at any rate they will soon be known. If Mr. Ludolph werein Germany he would be a noble. It is his intention to go there thisfall, and take his wealth and Christine with him, and assert hisancestral titles and position. Christine could not marry in this landwithout incurring her father's curse, and I think she has no dispositionto do that--her ambition is fully in accord with his."
"Yes," said Dennis, bitterly, "and where other women have hearts, shehas ambition only."
The professor returned and the subject was dropped.
Dennis said, on taking his leave: "I did not expect to show any onemy picture till it was placed on exhibition with the others, but, ifyou care to see it, you may to-morrow. Perhaps you can make somesuggestions that will help me."
They eagerly accepted the invitation, and came the following morning.Dennis watched them with much solicitude. When once they understoodhis thought, their delight and admiration knew no bounds. The professorturned and stared at him as if he were an entirely different personfrom the unpretending youth who had been introduced on the precedingevening.
"If you do not get the prize," he said, sententiously, "you have agreat deal of artistic talent in Chicago."
"'A Daniel come to judgment!'" cried his wife.