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The Dwelling Place of Light, Volume 1

Chapter 7 No.7

Word Count: 7634    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

g the familiar and sordid landmarks. These had become beautiful, mysterious, somehow appealing. The electric arcs, splotches in the veil, revealed on the Common phantom

recognition of certain tendencies and capacities within herself. Yet she rejoiced in them, she was glad she had hurt Ditmar, she would hurt him again. Still palpitating, she reached the house in Fillmore Street, halting a moment with her hand on the door, knowing her face was flushed, anxious lest her mother or Lise might notice something unusual in her manner. But, when she had slowly mounted the stairs and lighted the gas in the bedroom the sight of her sister's clothes cast over the chairs was proof that Lise had already donned her evening finery and departed. T

happened to you, Ja

Ditmar asked me to stay-th

ake your father go down to the m

," Janet told her,

hat new place," said Hannah, as she bro

lways be counted on to say the wrong thing with the best of intentions.

with her-would be disturbed. Undoubtedly they would have believed that she could "take care" of herself. She knew that matters could not go on as they were, that she would either have to leave Mr. Ditmar or-and here she baulked at being logical. She had no intention of leaving him: to remain, according to the notions of her parents, would be wrong. Why was it that doing wrong agreed with her, energized her, made her more alert, cleverer, keying up her faculties? turned life from a dull affair into a momentous one? To abandon Ditmar would be to slump back into the humdrum, into something from which she had magically been emancipated, symbolized by the home in which she sat; by the red-checked tablecloth, the ugly metal lamp, the cherry chairs with the frayed seats, the

emoteness and contempt she glanced at him as he sat stupidly absorbed in his newspaper, his face puckered, his lips pursed, and Ditmar rose before her-Ditmar, the embodiment of an indomitableness that refused to be beaten and crushed. She thought of the story he had told her, how by self-assertion and persistence he had become agent of the Chippering Mill, how

hing," said Hannah, who

are you

's," Janet

to sit on the bed and dream; once she surprised herself gazing into the glass with a rapt expression that was almost a smile. What was it about her that had attracted Ditmar? No other man had ever noticed it. She had never thought herself good looking, and now-it was astonishing!-she seemed to have changed, and she saw wit

out the light, and got into bed. For a long time, however, she remained wakeful, turning first on one side and then on the other, trying to banish from her m

as moving peculiarly about the room. Janet watched her. She stood in front of the bureau, just as Janet herself had done, her hands at her throat. At last she let them fall, her head turning slowly, as

sked. "I did my best not to

oise that woke m

dn't hav

rinking!" said

gig

ace!" she inquired. "Quiet

ed, seized her by the s

p. She bega

ain't nothing to you what

sed her and

a highball-h

again!" whispere

take care of myself, I guess-I ain't nutty enough to hit the booze.

d. The phrase struck her sharp

Lise approached a chair, and sank into it,-jerking her head

spirit in the darkness, mingling with the stagnant, damp air that came in at the open window, fairly saturating her with horror: it seemed the very essence of degradation. But as she lay on the edge of the bed, shrinking from contamination, in the throes of excitement inspired by an unnamed fear, she grew hot, she could feel and almost hear the pounding of her heart. She rose, f

nd its pitfalls and the high valuation at which she held her charms, had seemed secure from danger; but Janet recalled her discouragement, her threat to leave the Bagatelle. Since then there had been something furtive about her. Now, because that odour of alcohol Lise exhaled had destroyed in Janet the sense of exhilaration, of life on a higher plane she had begun to feel, and filled her with degradation, she hated Lise, felt for her sister no strain of pity. A proof, had she recogni

n his voice was the peculiar vibrancy that thrilled her, that summoned some answering thing out of the depths of her, and she felt herself yielding with a strange ecstasy in which were mingled joy and terror. The terror was conquering the joy, and suddenly he stood transformed before her eyes, caricatured, become a shrieking monster from whom she sought in agony to escape.... I

mp, and ran into the bedroom. Rain was splashing on the bricks of the passage-way outside, the shadows of the night still lurked in the co

aid. "It's time to g

alone-ca

et up. The whis

ned her eyes. Th

to get up. I

ening her hold. "You've got to-you've

eakfast, I ain't goi

ct of it emphasized the chill that struck Janet's heart. She got up and c

don't get up I'll tell mothe

n't-!" exclaime

in as to the after effects of drunkenness. But Lise got up. She sat

a head on me,

rcumstantially. Lise proceeded to put up her hair. She seemed to be mistress of herself; only tir

ot to be led into contr

Lise passed unobserved by both Hannah and Edward; and at twenty minutes to eight the two girls, with rubbers and umbrellas, left the house together, though it was Janet's custom to depart earlier, since

to you?" demanded Janet sudde

-what do you mean?

ery well wh

eply was pert, defiant. "What's it to you? If an

pproach

o do?" said Lise. "Pus

e there alread

pitch of fury. She turned

e, standing on your feet, picked on by yaps for six a week, I guess you wouldn't talk virtu

d. She could not

u say that?"

was c

emen all right, as much gentlemen as Ditmar-you come at me and tell me I'm all to the bad." She began to sob. "I'm as straight as you are. How was I to know

r had been mentioned. Still, what she had feared most had not come to pass. Lise left her abruptly, darting down a street that led to a back entrance of the Bagatelle, and Janet pursued her way. Where, she wonder

s by the driving rain in the night. The sky above the mills was sepia. White lights were burning in the loom rooms. When

Man-a conviction peculiarly maddening to such temperaments as Janet's. Therefore she interpreted her suffering in terms of Ditmar, she had looked forward to tormenting him again, and by departing he had deliberately balked and cheated her. The rain fell ceaselessly out of black skies, night seemed ever ready to descend on the river, a darkness-according to young Mr. Caldwell-due not to the clouds alone, but to forest fires many hundreds of miles away, in Canada. As the day wore on, however, her anger

the gas was burning, and them she saw Lise lying face downward on

," sh

ha

Unconsciously she began to stroke Lise's hand,

ronounce the words "got drunk,"-"I understand why you did it. I oughtn't t

with an involuntary gesture, regarding her sister with a bewildered loo

stand?" she asked slowly.

ned and repentant mood. She was astonished at herself for this sudden softening, since sh

d how it would be to wan

g-both of us for somet

sion, as of a person awaking from sleep, all of whos

ed. "You and me? You're all ri

on girls like us-we wan

a loss to exp

ed involuntarily toward the picture of the Olympian dinner pa

ay for it, to

ing-it's paying and not gett

t get it. That kind of li

, this unaccustomed word from her sister and the vehemence with which it was spoken su

water wago

of the man who had taken Lise to Gruber's, but she did not att

ed. "I'll tell mother you have a h

e if I do," replie

d her, she thought herself the most inconsistent and vacillating of creatures. She had resolved, far instance, before she fell asleep, to leave the Chippering Mill, to banish Ditmar from her life, to get a position in Boston, whence she could send some of her wages home: and in the morning, as she made her way to the office, the determination gave her a sense of peace and unity. But the northwest wind was blowing. It had chased away the mist and the clouds, the s

s article about Mr

Mr. Dit

isten; `One of the most notable figures in the Textile industry of the United States, Claude Ditmar, Agent of

to have reacquired at a bound the dizzy importance he had possessed for her before she became his stenographer. She found it impossible to realize that this was the Ditmar who had pursued and desired her; at times supplicating, apologetic, abject; and again revealed by the light in his eyes and the trembling of his hand as the sinister and ruthless predatory male from whom-since the revelation in her sister Lise she had determined to flee, and wh

e shown," to scrap machinery when his competitors still clung to older methods. The Chippering Mill had never had a serious strike, -indication of an ability to deal with labour; and Mr. Ditmar's views on labour followed: if his people had a grievance, let them come to him, and settle it between them. No unions. He had consistently refused to recognize them. There was mention of the Bradlaugh order as being the largest commission ever given to a single mill, a reference to the ex

Janet became vivid for him. There must be something unusual in a person whose feelings could be so intense, whose emotions rang so true. He was not unsophisticated. He had sometimes wondered why Ditmar had promoted her, though acknowledging her ability. He admired Ditmar, but ha

on. "Well, I'll take off my hat to him," Caldwell went on. "He is a wonder, he's got the mill right up to capacity in a week. He's agreed to deliver those goods to the Bra

t was tacitly understood his footing differed from theirs. He was a cousin of the Chipperings, and destined for rapid promotion. He went away every Saturday, it was known that he spent Sundays and holidays in delightful places, to return reddened and tanned; and though he never spoke about thes

a lot of highbrows thr

tions enough to swamp a

d to ask:-"Will you take me th

e exclaimed. "Why, we'll go no

had becom

she begged. "You see-he w

sitors had grown rather tiresome; but now his curiosity and interest were aroused, he was conscious of a keen stimulation when he glanced at Janet's face. Its illumination perplexed

her window, had been growing in the fields of the South. She had seen it torn by the bale-breakers, blown into the openers, loosened, cleansed, and dried; taken up by the lappers, pressed into batting, and passed on to the carding machines, to emerge like a wisp of white smoke in a sliver and coil automatically in a can. Once more it was flattened into a lap, given to a comber that felt out its fibres, removing with superhuman prec

ning, the heavy spools of yarn were carried to a beam-warper, standing alone like a huge spider's web, where hundreds of threads were stretched symmetrically and wound evenly, side by side, on a large cylinder, forming the warp of the fabric to be woven on the loom. First, however, this warp must be stiffened or "slashed" in starch and tallow, dried over heated drums, and finally wound around one great beam from which the multitude of threads are taken up, one by one, and slipped through the eyes of the loom harnesses by women who sit all day under the north windows overlooking the canal-the "drawers-in" of whom Ditmar had spoken. Then the harnesses are put on the loom, the threads attached to the cylinder on which the cloth is to be woun

aid Caldwell, in her ear. But

aught and flung back the light of the electric bulbs on the ceiling. How was it possible to live for hours at a time in this bedlam without losing presence of mind and thrusting hand or body in the wrong place, or becoming deaf? She had never before realized what mill work meant, though she had read of the accidents. But these people-even the children-seemed oblivious to the din and the danger, intent on their tasks, unconscious of the presence of a visitor, save occasionally when she caught a swift glance from a woman or girl a glance, perhaps, of envy or even of hostility. The dark, foreign

said. "It must be

at her, re

on is cold and dry it can't be drawn or spin, and when it's hot and dry the electricity is troublesome. If you think this moisture is bad you ought to see a mill with the old vapour-pot system with the steam shooting out into the room. Look h

ent thousands of dollars, and as soon as these machines became practical he put 'em in. The other day when I was going through the room one of

hem," said Janet. She li

e spoke a litt

happy as possible-isn't it? He won't stand for being held up, and he'd b

noise and heat behind them and were descending the worn, oaken treads of the spiral stairway of a neighbouring

time, when you want to see the Print Works or the Worsted De

. Though not of an inflammable temperament, he himself was stirred, and it was she who, unaccountably, had stirred him: suggested, in these processes he sa

rked beside it, and it had not existed for her, it had had no meaning, the mills might have been empty. She had, indeed, many, many times seen these men and women, boys and girls trooping away from work, she had strolled through the quarters in which they lived, speculated on the lands from which they had come; but she had never really thought of them as human bei

single stroke of a bell, and suddenly the air was pulsing with sounds flung back and forth by the walls lining the river. Seizing her hat and coat, she ran down the stairs and through th

troubling you-is the

ook he

e the hands com

ent, he found Janet's

the vanguard as it came from the doorway-the first tricklings of a flood that instantly filled the yard and swept onward and outward, irresistibly, through the narrow gorge of the gates. Impossible to realize this as the force which, when distributed over the great spaces of the mills, performed an orderly and useful task! for it was now a turbid and lawless torrent unconscious of its swollen powers, menacing, breathlessly exciting to behold. It seemed to Janet indeed a torrent as she clung to the side of the gat

nimbly, dinner pails in hand, along the steel girders. Doffer boys romped and whistled, young girls in jaunty, Faber Street clothes and flowered hats, linked to one another for protection, chewed gum and joked, but for the most part these workers were silent, the apathy of their faces making a strange contrast with the hurry, hurry of their feet and set intentness of their bodies as they sped homeward to the tenements. And the clothes of these were drab, save when the occasional colour of a hooded

r, and far, far above floated in the azure a cloud of pink jeweller's cotton. Even as she strove to fix these colours in her mind they vanished, the western sky faded to magenta, to purple-mauve; the corridor of the river darkened, on either side pale lights

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