Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise, by David Graham Phillips

mercy on us!"Louder and angrier rose the wail. Fanny, after a brief strugglewith herself, hurried to the table, looked down at the tinyhelplessness. Her face softened. She had been a mother fourtimes. Only one had lived–her fair little two-year-old Ruth–and shewould never have any more children. The tears glistened in hereyes. "What ails you, Nora Mulvey?" she demanded. "Why aren'tyou 'tending to this poor little creature?"Nora sprang into action, but she wrapped the baby herself. Thedoctor in deep embarrassment withdrew to the farther window. Shefussed over the baby lingeringly, but finally resigned it to the nurse."Take it into the bathroom," she said, "where everything's ready tofeed it–though I never dreamed––" As Nora was about to depart,she detained her. "Let me look at it again."The nurse understood that Fanny Warham was searching forevidence of the mysterious but suspected paternity whose secretLorella, with true Lenox obstinacy, had guarded to the end. Thetwo women scanned the features. A man would at a glance haveabandoned hope of discovering anything from a chart so vagueand confused as that wrinkled, twisted, swollen face of thenewborn. Not so a woman. Said Nora: "She seems to me to favorthe Lenoxes. But I think–I »kind« o' think–I see a »trace« of–of––"There she halted, waiting for encouragement."Of Galt?" suggested Fanny, in an undertone."Of Galt," assented Nora, her tone equally discreet. "That noseis Galt-like and the set of the ears–and a kind of something to theneck and shoulders.""Maybe so," said Fanny doubtfully. She shook her headdrearily, sighed. "What's the use? Lorella's gone. And this morningGeneral Galt came down to see my husband with a letter he'd gotfrom Jimmie. Jimmie denies it. Perhaps so. Again, perhaps theGeneral wrote him to write that, and threatened him if he didn't. Butwhat's the use? We'll never know."And they never did.When young Stevens was leaving, George Warham waylaidhim at the front gate, separated from the spacious old creeper-cladhouse by long lawns and an avenue of elms. "I hear the child'sgoing to live," said he anxiously."I've never seen anything more alive," replied Stevens.Warham stared gloomily at the ground. He was evidentlyashamed of his feelings, yet convinced that they were human andnatural. A moment's silence between the men, then Stevens puthis hand on the gate latch. "Did–did–my wife––" began Warham."Did she say what she calculated to do?""Not a word, George." After a silence. "You know how fond sheis of babies.""Yes, I know," replied Warham. "Fanny is a true woman if everthere was one." With a certain defiance, "And Lorella–she was asweet, womanly girl!""As sweet and good as she was pretty," replied Stevensheartily."The way she kept her mouth shut about that hound, whoeverhe is!" Warham's Roman face grew savage, revealed in startlingapparition a stubborn cruelty of which there was not a trace uponthe surface. "If I ever catch the –– –– I'll fill him full of holes.""He'd be lynched–»whoever« he is," said Stevens."That's right!" cried Warham. "This is the North, but it's nearenough to Kentucky to know what to do with a wretch of that sort."His face became calmer. "That poor little baby! He'll have a hardrow to hoe."Stevens flushed a guilty red. "It's–it's–a girl," he stammered.Warham stared. "A »girl«!" he cried. Then his face reddenedand in a furious tone he burst out: "Now don't that beat the devil forluck!... A girl! Good Lord–a girl!""Nobody in this town'll blame her," consoled Stevens."You know better than that, Bob! A girl! Why, it's downrightwicked... I wonder what Fanny allows to do?" He showed what fearwas in his mind by wheeling savagely on Stevens with a stormy,"We can't keep her–we simply can't!""What's to become of her?" protested Stevens gently.Warham made a wild vague gesture with both arms. "Damn if Iknow! I've got to look out for my own daughter. I won't have it.