<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XLIII</h2>
<p class="center">"AND SATAN CAME ALSO."</p>
<div class="drop">
<ANTIMG src="images/drop_c.jpg" alt="C" width-obs="90" height-obs="90" class="cap" />
<p class="cap_1">CAME a day when the snow had disappeared;
my threshing was done; I had money
again, and to Chicago I journeyed.</p>
</div>
<p>During the winter I had planned a
way to get to see my wife, and took the first step
toward carrying it out, immediately following my
arrival in the city.</p>
<p>I went to a telephone and called up Mrs. Ewis.
She recognized my voice and knew what I had come
for. She said: "I am so glad I was near the phone
when you called up, because your father-in-law is
in the house this very minute." On hearing this
I was taken aback, for it had not occurred to me
that he might be in the city. As the realization
that he was, became clear to me, I felt ill at ease,
and asked how he came to be in the city at that
time.</p>
<p>"Well," and from her tone I could see that she
was also disturbed—"you see tomorrow is election
and yesterday was Easter, so he came home to vote,
and be here Easter, at the same time. Now, let
me think a moment," she said nervously. Finally
she called: "Oscar, I tell you what I will do, P.H.
is sick and the Reverend has been here every day
to see him." Here she paused again, then went on:
"I will try to get him to go home, but he stays late.
However, you call up in about an hour, and if he
is still here, I'll say 'this is the wrong number, see?'"</p>
<p>"Yes," I said gratefully, and hung up the receiver.</p>
<p>I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</SPAN></span>
had by this time become so nervous that I
trembled, and then went down into Custom House
place—I had talked from the Polk Street station—and
took a couple of drinks to try to get steady.</p>
<p>In an hour and a half I called up again and it was
the "wrong number," so I went out south and called
on a young railroad man and his wife, by the name
of Lilis, who were friends of Orlean's and mine.</p>
<p>After expressing themselves as being puzzled as
to why the Reverend should want to separate us,
Mrs. Lilis told me of her. During the conversation
Mrs. Lilis said: "After you left last year, I went
over to see Orlean, and spoke at length of you, of
how broken hearted you appeared to be, and that she
should be in Dakota. Mrs. McCraline looked uncomfortable
and tried to change the subject, but I said
my mind, and watched Orlean. In the meantime
I thought she would faint right there, she looked
so miserable and unhappy. She has grown so fat,
you know she was always so peaked before you
married her. Everybody is wondering how her
father can be so mean, and continue to keep her
from returning home to you, but Mrs. Ewis can and
will help you get her because she can do more with
that family than anyone else. She and the Elder
have been such close friends for the last fifteen
years, and she should be able to manage him."</p>
<p>Then her mother said: "Oscar, I have known
you all your life; I was raised up with your parents;
knew all of your uncles; and know your family
to have always been highly respected; but I cannot
for my life see, why, if Orlean loves you, she
lets her father keep her away from you. Now here
is<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</SPAN></span>
my Millie," she went on, turning her eyes to her
daughter, "and Belle too, why, I could no more
separate them from their husbands than I could
fly—even if I was mean enough to want to."</p>
<p>"But why does he do it, Mama? The Reverend
wants to break up the home of Orlean and Oscar,"
Mrs. Lilis put in, anxiously.</p>
<p>"Bless me, my child," her mother replied, "I
have known N.J. McCraline for thirty years and
he has been a rascal all the while. I am not
surprised at anything that he would do."</p>
<p>"Well," said Mrs. Lilis, with a sigh of resignation,
"it puzzles me."</p>
<p>I then told them about calling up Mrs. Ewis and
what I had planned on doing. It was then about
nine-thirty. As they had a phone, I called Mrs.
Ewis again.</p>
<p>While talking, I had forgotten the signal, and
remembered it only when I heard Mrs. Ewis calling
frantically, from the other end of the wire, "This
is the wrong number, Mister, this is the wrong
number." With an exclamation, I hung up the
receiver with a jerk.</p>
<p>Mrs. Ankin lived about two blocks east, so I
went to her house from Mrs. Lilis'. On the street,
the effect of what had passed, began to weaken me.
I was almost overcome, but finally arrived at Mrs.
Ankins'. Just before retiring, at eleven o'clock,
I again called up Mrs. Ewis, and it was still the
"wrong number." I went to bed and spent a
restless night.</p>
<p>I awakened about five-thirty from a troubled
sleep, jumped up, dressed, then went out and caught
a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</SPAN></span>
car for the west side. I felt sure the Elder would
go home during the night.</p>
<p>It is always very slow getting from the south to
the west side in Chicago, on a surface car, and it
was after seven o'clock when I arrived at the address,
an apartment building, where Mrs. Ewis'
husband held the position as janitor, and where
they made their home, in the basement.</p>
<p>She was just coming from the grocery and greeted
me with a cheerful "Good Morning," and "Do you
know that rascal stayed here until twelve o'clock
last night," she laughed. She called him "rascal"
as a nickname. She took me into their quarters,
invited me to a chair, sat down, and began to talk
in a serious tone. "Now Oscar, I understand your
circumstances thoroughly, and am going to help
you and Orlean in every way I can. You understand
Rev. McCraline has always been hard-headed,
and the class of ministers he associates with, are
more hard-headed still. The Elder has never liked
you because of your independence, and from the
fact that you would not let him rule your house and
submit to his ruling, as Claves does. Now Oscar,
let me give you some advice. Maybe you are not
acquainted with the circumstances, for if you had
been, in the beginning, you might have avoided this
trouble. What I am telling you is from experience,
and I know it to be true. Don't ever criticize the
preachers, to their faces, especially the older ones.
They know their views and practices, in many instances,
to be out of keeping with good morals, but
they are not going to welcome any criticism of their
acts. In fact, they will crucify criticism, and persecute
those<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</SPAN></span>
who have criticized them. Furthermore,
you are fond of Booker T. Washington, and
his ideas, and Rev. McCraline, like many other
negro preachers, especially the older ones, hates
him and everybody that openly approves of his
ideas. His family admire the educator, and so do
I, but we don't let on to him. Now I have a plan
in mind, which I feel a most plausible one, and which
I believe will work out best for you, Orlean, and
and myself. Before I mention it, I want to speak
concerning the incident of last fall. When you sent
him that bunch of letters, with mine in it, he fairly
raised cain; as a result, the family quit speaking
to me, and Orlean has not been over here for six
months, until she and Ethel came a few days before
Easter, to get the hats I have always given them.
Now, she went on, seeming to become excited, if I
should invite Orlean over, the Elder would come
along," which I knew to be true. "When you wrote
me last summer in regard to taking her to a summer
resort, so you could come and get her, I told Mary
Arling about it. Now to be candid, Mrs. Arling and
I are not the best of friends. You know she drinks
a little too much, and I don't like that, but Mary
Arling is a friend of yours, and a smart woman."</p>
<p>"Is that so?" I asked, showing interest, for I
admired Mrs. Arling and her husband.</p>
<p>"Yes," Mrs. Ewis reassured me, "she is a friend of
yours and you know all the McCraline family
admire the Arlings, and Orlean goes there often."
"Well, as I was saying", she went on, "last summer
out at a picnic, Mrs. Arling got tipsy enough to speak
her mind and she simply laid the family out about
you.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</SPAN></span>
She told the Reverend right to his teeth that
he was a dirty rascal, and knew it; always had
been, and that it was a shame before God and man
the way he was treating you. Yes, she said it,"
she reassured me when I appeared to doubt a little.
"And she told me she wished you had asked her to
take Orlean away; that she would not only have
taken her away from Chicago, but would have
carried her on back to Dakota where she wanted
to be, instead of worrying her life away in Chicago,
in fear of her father's wrath. So now, my plan is
that you go over to her house, see? You know the
address."</p>
<p>I knew the house. "Well," and she put it
down on a piece of paper, "you go over there, and she
will help you; and Oscar, for God's sake, she implored,
with tears in her eyes, do be careful. I
know Orlean loves you and you do her, but the Reverend
has it in for you, and if he learned you were in
the city, Orlean would not be allowed to leave the
house. Now, she added, I will get him over here as
soon as I can and you do your part. Good-bye."</p>
<p>I took a roundabout way in getting back to the
south side, keeping out of the colored neighborhood
as long as possible, by taking a Halsted street car
south, got a transfer, and took a Thirty-fifth
street car.</p>
<p>I was careful to avoid meeting anyone who might
know me, but who might not be aware of my predicament,
and who might thoughtlessly inform the
McCralines.</p>
<p>I arrived at Mrs. Arlings without meeting anyone
who knew me, however. They owned and occupied
an<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</SPAN></span>
elaborate flat at an address in the Thirty-seventh
block on Wabash avenue. I rang the bell, which
was answered by a young lady unknown to me, but
who, I surmised, roomed at the house. She inquired
the name, and when I had told her she let out an "O!"
and invited me into the parlor. She hurried away
to tell Mrs. Arling, who came immediately, and
holding both hands out to me, said, "I am so glad
you came at last, Oscar, I am so glad."</p>
<p>After we had said a few words concerning the
weather, etc., I said in a serious tone, "Mrs. Arling,
I am being persecuted on account of my ideas."</p>
<p>"I know it, Oscar, I know it," she repeated, nodding
her head vigorously, and appeared eager.</p>
<p>I then related briefly the events of the past year,
including the Reverend's trip to Dakota.</p>
<p>Raising her arms in a gesture, she said: "If you
remember the day after you were married, when we
had the family and you over to dinner, and you and
Richard (her husband), talked on race matters, that
the Elder never joined. Well, when you had gone
Richard said: 'Oscar and the Elder are not going
to be friends long, for their views are too far apart.'
When he brought Orlean home last year I said to
Richard, 'Rev. McCraline is up to some trick.'"
Continuing, she went on to tell me, "You are aware
how bitter most of the colored preachers are in regard
to Booker T. Washington." "Yes," I assented.
"Mrs. Ewis and I talked the matter over and she
said the Reverend had it in for you from the beginning,
that is, he wanted to crush your theories, and
have you submissive, like Ethel's husband. He was
more anxious to have you look up to him because
you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</SPAN></span>
had something; but after he found out you were
not going to, well, this is the result."</p>
<p>"Now, Oscar, whatever you suggest, if it is in my
power to do so, I will carry it out, because I am sure
Orlean loves you. She always seems so glad when I
talk with her about you. She comes over often,"
she went on, "and we get to talking of you. Now
before I tell you more, you must not feel that she
does not care for you, because she allows her father
to keep her away from you. Orlean is just simple,
babylike and is easy to rule. She gets that from her
mother, for you know Mary Ann is helpless." I
nodded, and she continued. "As for the Reverend,
he has raised them to obey him, and they do, to the
letter; the family, with Claves thrown in, fear him,
but as I was going to say: Orlean told me when I
asked her why she did not go on back to you, 'Well,
I don't know.' You know how she drags her speech.
'Oscar loves me, and we never had a quarrel. In
fact, there is nothing wrong between us and Oscar
would do anything to please me. The only thing I
did not like, was, that Oscar thought more of his
land and money than he did of me, and I wanted to
be first.'"</p>
<p>"Isn't that deplorable," I put in, shaking my head
sadly.</p>
<p>"Of course it is," she replied with a shrug, "why,
that could be settled in fifteen minutes, if it were
not for that old preacher. She always likes to talk
of you and it seems to do her good."</p>
<p>"Now, my plan is," I started, with a determined
expression, "to have you call her up, see?"</p>
<p>"Yes, yes," she answered anxiously.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i334" name="i334"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i334.jpg" alt="" /> <p class="ctext">The cold days and long nights passed slowly by, and I cared for the stock. <SPAN href="#Page_296">(Page 296.)</SPAN></p> </div>
<p>"And<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</SPAN></span>
invite her over on pretense of accompanying
you to a matinee."</p>
<p>"Yes, yes," and then, her face seemed to brighten
with an idea, and she said: "Why not go to a matinee?"</p>
<p>"Why yes," I assented. "I had not thought of
that," then, "Why sure, fine and dandy. We will
all go, yes, indeed," I replied, with good cheer.</p>
<p>She went to the phone and called up the number.
In a few minutes she returned, wearing a jubilant expression,
and cried: "I've fixed it, she is coming
over and we will all go to a matinee. Won't it be
fine?" she continued, jumping up and down, and
clapping her hands joyfully, beside herself, with enthusiasm,
and I joined her.</p>
<p>Two hours later, Mrs. Hite—the young lady that
answered the door when I came that morning—called
from the look-out, where she had been watching
while Mrs. Arling was dressing, and I, too nervous
to sit still, was walking to and fro across the room—that
Orlean was coming. We had been uneasy for
fear the Elder might hear of my being in the city,
before Orlean got away. I rushed to the window and
saw my wife coming leisurely along the walk, entirely
ignorant of the anxious eyes watching her from the
second-story window. I could see, at the first glance,
she had grown fleshy; she had begun before she left
South Dakota. It was a bay window and we
watched her until she had come up the steps and
pulled the bell.</p>
<p>Mrs. Arling had told me my wife did not have any
gentleman company. I had not felt she had, for,
in the first place, she was not that kind of a woman,
and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</SPAN></span>
if her father, by his ways, discouraged any men
in coming to see her while she was single, he was sure
to discourage any afterward. But Mrs. Arling had
added: "I told her I was going to get her a beau, so
you get behind the door, and when she comes in I
will tell her that I have found the beau."</p>
<p>I obeyed, and after a little Orlean walked into the
room, smiling and catching her breath, from the
exertion of coming up the steps. I stepped behind
her and covered her eyes with my hands. Mrs.
Arling chirped, "That is your beau, so you see I
have kept my word, and there he is." I withdrew
my hands and my wife turned and exclaimed "Oh!"
and sank weakly into a chair.</p>
<p>We had returned from the theatre, where we witnessed
a character play with a moral, A Romance
of the Under World. We had tickets for an evening
performance to see Robert Mantell in Richelieu.
Mrs. Arling ushered us into her sitting room, closed
the door, and left us to ourselves.</p>
<p>I took my wife by the hand; led her to a rocker;
sat down and drew her down on my knee, and began
with: "Now, dear, let us talk it over."</p>
<p>I knew about what to expect, and was not mistaken.
She began to tell me of the "wrongs" I
had done her, and the like. I calculated this would
last about an hour, then she would begin to relent,
and she did. After I had listened so patiently
without interrupting her, but before I felt quite
satisfied, she wanted to go to the phone and call
up the house to tell the folks that I was in town.</p>
<p>"Don't do that, dear," I implored. "I don't
want them to know, that is, just yet." The reason
I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</SPAN></span>
was uneasy and wanted her to wait awhile was,
that I felt her father would go to call on Mrs. Ewis
about eight o'clock and it was now only seven. But
she seemed restless and ill at ease, and persisted
that she should call up mother, and let her know,
so I consented, reluctantly. Then as she was on
the way to the phone I called her and said: "Now,
Orlean there are two things a woman cannot be
at the same time, and that is, a wife to her husband
and a daughter to her father. She must sacrifice
one or the other."</p>
<p>"I know it," she replied, and appeared to be confused
and hesitant, but knowing she would never
be at ease until she had called up, I said "Go ahead,"
and she did.</p>
<p>I shall not soon forget the expression on her face,
then the look of weak appeal that she turned on me,
when her father's deep voice rang through the phone
in answer to her "Hello." The next instant she
appeared to sway and then leaned against the wall
trembling as she answered, "Oh! Pa-pa, ah," and
seeming to have no control of her voice. She now
appeared frightened, while Mrs. Arling and Mrs.
Hite stood near, holding their breath and looked
discouraged. She finally managed to get it out,
but hardly above a whisper, "Oscar is here."</p>
<p>"Well," he answered, and his voice could be
heard distinctly by those standing near. "Well,"
he seemed to roar in a commanding way, "Why
don't you bring him to the house?"</p>
<p>What passed after that I do not clearly remember,
but I have read lots of instances of where people
lost their heads, where, if they would have had
presence<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</SPAN></span>
of mind, they might have saved their
army, won some great victory or done something
else as notorious, but in this I may be classed as
one of the unfortunates who simply lost his head.
That is how it was described later, but speaking
for myself, when I heard the voice of the man who
had secured my wife by coercion and kept her away
from me a year; which had caused me to suffer,
and turned my existence into a veritable nightmare,
the things that passed through my mind during the
few moments thereafter are sad to describe.</p>
<p>I heard his voice say again, "Why don't you
bring him to the house?" But I could only seem
to see her being torn from me, while he, a massive
brute, stood over lecturing me, for what he termed,
"my sins," but what were merely the ideas of a
free American citizen. How could I listen to a
lecture from a person with his reputation. This
formed in my mind and added to the increasing
but suppressed anger. I could see other years
passing with nothing to remember my wife by, but
the little songs she had sung so often while we were
together in Dakota.</p>
<div class="poem small"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4q">"Roses, roses, roses bring memory of you, dear,<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Roses so sweet and endearing,<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Roses with dew of the morn;<br/></span>
<span class="i4">You were fresh for a day then you faded away.<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Red roses bring memories of you."<br/></span></div>
</div>
<p>The next moment I had taken the receiver from
her hand, and called, "Hello, Rev. McCraline,"
"Hello, Rev. McCraline," in a savage tone. When
he had answered, I continued in a more savage
voice,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</SPAN></span>
"You ask my wife why she did not bring me
to the house?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he answered. His voice had changed
from the commanding tone, and now appeared a
little solicitous. "Yes, why don't you come to
the house?" I seemed to hear it as an insult.
I did not seem to understand what he meant,
although I understood the words clearly. They
seemed, however, to say; "Come to the house, and
I will take your wife, and then kick you into the
street."</p>
<p>I answered, with anger burning my voice; "I
don't want to come to your house, because the last
time I was there, I was kicked out. Do you
hear? Kicked out."</p>
<p>"Well, I did not do it." Now, I had looked for
him to say that very thing. I felt sure that he
had put Ethel up to the evil doing of a year before,
and now claimed to know nothing about it, which
was like him. It made me, already crazed with
anger, more furious, and I screamed over the phone
"I know you didn't, and I knew that was what you
would say, but I know you left orders for it to
be done."</p>
<p>"Where is Orlean?" he put in, his voice returning
to authoritative tone.</p>
<p>"She is here with me," I yelled, and hung the
receiver up viciously.</p>
<p>It was only then I realized that Mrs. Arling and
Mrs. Hite had hold of each arm and had been
shouting in my ears all this while, "Oscar, Mr.
Devereaux, Oscar, don't! don't! don't!" and in the
meantime fear seemed to have set my wife in a state
of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</SPAN></span>
terror. She now turned on me, in tones that did
not appear natural. The words I cannot, to this
day, believe, but I had become calm and now plead
with her, on my knees, and with tears; but her eyes
saw me not, and her ears seemed deaf to entreaty.
She raved like a crazy woman and declared she
hated me. Of a sudden, some one rang the bell
viciously, and Mrs. Arling commanded me to go up
the stairs. I retreated against my will. She
opened the door, and in walked the Reverend.</p>
<p>Orlean ran to him and fell into his arms and cried:
"Papa, I do not know what I would do if it were
not for you," and kissed him—she had not kissed
me. After a pause, I went up to him. As I approached
he turned and looked at me, with a dreadful
sneer in his face, which seemed to say, "So I
have caught you. Tried to steal a march on me, eh?"
And the eyes, they were the same, the eyes of a pig,
expressionless.</p>
<p>Feeling strange, but composed, I advanced to
where he stood, laid my hands upon his shoulder,
looked into his face and said slowly, "Rev.
McCraline, don't take my wife"—paused, then
went on, "why could you not leave us for a day.
We were happy, not an hour ago." Here my
stare must have burned, my look into his face was
so intense, and he looked away, but without
emotion. "And now I ask you, for the sake of
humanity, and in justice to mankind, don't take
my wife."</p>
<p>Not answering me, he said to my wife: "Do you
want your papa?"</p>
<p>"Yes, yes," she said and leaned on him. Then
she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</SPAN></span>
looked into his face and said: "He insulted
you."</p>
<p>"Yes yes, dear," he answered. "He has done
that right along, but you step outside and Papa
will tend to him."</p>
<p>She still clung to him and said: "He has made
you suffer."</p>
<p>He bowed his head, and feigned to suffer. I
stood looking on mechanically. He repeated, "Run
outside, dear," and he stood holding, the door open,
then, realization seemed to come to her, she turned
and threw herself into Mrs. Arling's arms, weakly,
and broke into mournful sobs. Her father drew
her gently from the embrace and with her face in
her hands, and still sobbing, she passed out. He
followed and through the open door I caught a
glimpse of Clavis on the sidewalk below, the man
who had written—not a year before, "I am going
to be a brother, and help you."</p>
<p>The next moment the door closed softly behind
them. That was the last time I saw my wife.</p>
<p class="center">THE END</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="iback_cover" name="iback_cover"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/iback_cover.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="notes">
<p>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:</p>
<p>Illustrations have been moved to the nearest paragraph break,
but otherwise reflect the location where they are placed in
the original publication. Hyperlinks have been included when
a specific page number is mentioned in the illustration
caption.</p>
<p>Obvious typos and printer errors have been corrected
without comment.</p>
<p>With the exception of obvious printer errors,
inconsistencies in the author's spelling, punctuation, and
use of hyphens have been retained as in the original book.
Examples of such inconsistencies include, but are not limited
to:</p>
<blockquote><p>
far-away/ faraway<br/>
batch/ bach<br/>
Governor Reulbach/ Governor Reulback<br/></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Unconventional spelling has been retained in words such as
(but not limited to) the following:</p>
<blockquote><p>
physicological: page 35<br/>
monoply: page 50<br/>
minature: page 150<br/>
futhermore: page 153<br/>
concensus: page 283<br/></p>
</blockquote></div>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />