The Pit [50]
the waters. The last time I saw Moody I said, 'Moody, my motto is "not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, praising the Lord."' I remember we were out driving at the time, I took him out behind Lizella--she's almost straight Wilkes' blood and can trot in two-ten, but you can believe _he_ didn't know that--and, as I say, I told him what my motto was, and he said, 'J., good for you; you keep to that. There's no better motto in the world for the American man of business.' He shook my hand when he said it, and I haven't ever forgotten it."
Not a little embarrassed, Laura was at a loss just what to say, and in the end remarked lamely enough:
"I am sure it is the right spirit--the best motto."
"Miss Dearborn," Jadwin began again suddenly, "why don't you take a class down there. The little micks aren't so dreadful when you get to know them."
"I!" exclaimed Laura, rather blankly. She shook her head. "Oh, no, Mr. Jadwin. I should be only an encumbrance. Don't misunderstand me. I approve of the work with all my heart, but I am not fitted--I feel no call. I should be so inapt that I know I should do no good. My training has been so different, you know," she said, smiling. "I am an Episcopalian--'of the straightest sect of the Pharisees.' I should be teaching your little micks all about the meaning of candles, and 'Eastings,' and the absolution and remission of sins."
"I wouldn't care if you did," he answered. "It's the indirect influence I'm thinking of--the indirect influence that a beautiful, pure-hearted, noble-minded woman spreads around her wherever she goes. I know what it has done for me. And I know that not only my little micks, but every teacher and every superintendent in that school would be inspired, and stimulated, and born again so soon as ever you set foot in the building. Men need good women, Miss Dearborn. Men who are doing the work of the world. I believe in women as I believe in Christ. But I don't believe they were made--any more than Christ was--to cultivate-- beyond a certain point--their own souls, and refine their own minds, and live in a sort of warmed-over, dilettante, stained-glass world of seclusion and exclusion. No, sir, that won't do for the United States and the men who are making them the greatest nation of the world. The men have got all the get-up- and-get they want, but they need the women to point them straight, and to show them how to lead that other kind of life that isn't all grind. Since I've known you, Miss Dearborn, I've just begun to wake up to the fact that there _is_ that other kind, but I can't lead that life without you. There's _no_ kind of life that's worth anything to me now that don't include you. I don't need to tell you that I want you to marry me. You know that by now, I guess, without any words from me. I love you, and I love you as a man, not as a boy, seriously and earnestly. I can give you no idea _how_ seriously, _how_ earnestly. I want you to be my wife. Laura, my dear girl, I _know_ I could make you happy."
"It isn't," answered Laura slowly, perceiving as he paused that he expected her to say something," much a question of that."
"What is it, then? I won't make a scene. Don't you love me? Don't you think, my girl, you could ever love me?"
Laura hesitated a long moment. She had taken the rose from her shoulder, and plucking the petals one by one, put them delicately between her teeth. From the other end of the room came the clamorous exhortations of Monsieur Gerardy. Mrs. Cressler and the Gretry girl watched the progress of the rehearsal attentively from the doorway of the dining-room. Aunt Wess' and Mr. Cressler were discussing psychic research and seances, on the sofa on the other side of the room. After a while Laura spoke.
"It isn't that either," she said, choosing her words carefully.
"What is it, then?"
"I don't know--exactly. For one thing, I don't think I _want_ to be married, Mr. Jadwin--to anybody."
"I would wait for you."
"Or to be engaged."
"But the day must come, sooner or later,
Not a little embarrassed, Laura was at a loss just what to say, and in the end remarked lamely enough:
"I am sure it is the right spirit--the best motto."
"Miss Dearborn," Jadwin began again suddenly, "why don't you take a class down there. The little micks aren't so dreadful when you get to know them."
"I!" exclaimed Laura, rather blankly. She shook her head. "Oh, no, Mr. Jadwin. I should be only an encumbrance. Don't misunderstand me. I approve of the work with all my heart, but I am not fitted--I feel no call. I should be so inapt that I know I should do no good. My training has been so different, you know," she said, smiling. "I am an Episcopalian--'of the straightest sect of the Pharisees.' I should be teaching your little micks all about the meaning of candles, and 'Eastings,' and the absolution and remission of sins."
"I wouldn't care if you did," he answered. "It's the indirect influence I'm thinking of--the indirect influence that a beautiful, pure-hearted, noble-minded woman spreads around her wherever she goes. I know what it has done for me. And I know that not only my little micks, but every teacher and every superintendent in that school would be inspired, and stimulated, and born again so soon as ever you set foot in the building. Men need good women, Miss Dearborn. Men who are doing the work of the world. I believe in women as I believe in Christ. But I don't believe they were made--any more than Christ was--to cultivate-- beyond a certain point--their own souls, and refine their own minds, and live in a sort of warmed-over, dilettante, stained-glass world of seclusion and exclusion. No, sir, that won't do for the United States and the men who are making them the greatest nation of the world. The men have got all the get-up- and-get they want, but they need the women to point them straight, and to show them how to lead that other kind of life that isn't all grind. Since I've known you, Miss Dearborn, I've just begun to wake up to the fact that there _is_ that other kind, but I can't lead that life without you. There's _no_ kind of life that's worth anything to me now that don't include you. I don't need to tell you that I want you to marry me. You know that by now, I guess, without any words from me. I love you, and I love you as a man, not as a boy, seriously and earnestly. I can give you no idea _how_ seriously, _how_ earnestly. I want you to be my wife. Laura, my dear girl, I _know_ I could make you happy."
"It isn't," answered Laura slowly, perceiving as he paused that he expected her to say something," much a question of that."
"What is it, then? I won't make a scene. Don't you love me? Don't you think, my girl, you could ever love me?"
Laura hesitated a long moment. She had taken the rose from her shoulder, and plucking the petals one by one, put them delicately between her teeth. From the other end of the room came the clamorous exhortations of Monsieur Gerardy. Mrs. Cressler and the Gretry girl watched the progress of the rehearsal attentively from the doorway of the dining-room. Aunt Wess' and Mr. Cressler were discussing psychic research and seances, on the sofa on the other side of the room. After a while Laura spoke.
"It isn't that either," she said, choosing her words carefully.
"What is it, then?"
"I don't know--exactly. For one thing, I don't think I _want_ to be married, Mr. Jadwin--to anybody."
"I would wait for you."
"Or to be engaged."
"But the day must come, sooner or later,