Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 112: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

102 almost with wonder, when they met. And, while he marveled at the serene, unclouded face, with its good and gentle beauty, she noted with a pang the rav- ages Success had made; and, oh, the mortal weariness of him! He did not mention Leila; he seemed almost indifferent to her going from his life. It was only when Amy asked, hes- itatingly, about the little girl, that his hard face softened. “Of course I’d have liked a boy, that I could train to carry on my work and plans after me,’ he said frankly. “Still, when the girl came, I was glad. I knew she was frail, but I thought I might be able to keep her. Why, I had her under the constant care of one of the most famous children’s specialists on earth. “The day she was born I took an hour off and thought things over— mapped out my plans, you know. Then I started in to work for her. I was going to make a mighty big place in this world for that little girl! The princes of the earth weren't too good for my child,” He thought for a while abstractedly ; as if he summoned before him the baby ghost. “She was always the very quietest kiddy you ever saw,” he went on. “Just sit still, and stare straight before her with big, clear eyes; sometimes she’d break into a little, low laugh, the nurse said, as if she’d seen or thought of something that pleased her. The nurse said it always made her feel as if the baby had a little happy secret. “Then the doctors had to give her some harmless preparation to induce sleep, she’d been so restless, and every- thing else had failed. She’d sleep for hours, and then the nurse said she’d wake up, stare about her as if be- wildered, and cry for her mother. Yet when Leila did have time to see her, it didn’t seem to be Leila that she wanted at all. Leila never did care for chil- dren, you know, so, of course, she hadn’t that way with them that some women have; and the baby seemed to know it. “Both of us were really too busy, you AINSLEE’S understand, to see much of the child. Of course, we tried to go when the nurse sent for us. It makes me feel bad now, to think that that poor, little thing might have been lonesome. | hadn’t thought of that, you know. She had everything money could buy, of course, but “ “But what she needed most: Love,” said Amy. For the first time in her life her voice was stern. “Love?” Gordon was amazed and resentful. ‘Love?’ he repeated. “Good Lord, Amy, of course she had love— oceans of it! Why, a royal infant hadn’t any better care. And didn’t you just hear me tell you that I was work- ing and planning for her, that I meant my girl to pick and choose from the princes of the earth? Of course, I loved her!” Somehow, after that, the subject of the little Amy was tacitly avoided. He took his wonted place in the household, and, as of old, Amy’s pres- ence insensibly soothed and softened him. He even began to look upon him- self almost as a man at home, not as a conqueror in exile. And the calm sim- plicity of the life surrounding him act- ing like a tonic upon his strained nerves, he grew forceful again, gathered his strength, his effectiveness. Reassured, he began to plan his future campaigns, outlining that career with which to dazzle his generation. “T’ve had my lesson,” he told Amy. “Now I’m going back and teach my teachers theirs. I know ’em, now. This time, when I get the biggest, greatest thing on earth in my hands, I'll know how to hold on to it.” “And what,” asked Amy mildly, “‘is the biggest, greatest thing, Gordon?” “Power!” said he. And his face darkened. She asked, as one who reflects: “But you had Power in your hands once before, didn’t you?” “T had it,” he breathed, and its cold light kindled in his glance. But Amy said tranquilly: “T shouldn’t think the greatest thing on earth could be so quickly, so en- COWMUC OOK (C@