Speaker 1: This is section sixty three and the epilog of The
Speaker 1: Gilded Age. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 1: The Gilded Age, A Tale of to Day by Mark
Speaker 1: Twain and C. D. Warner, Chapter sixty three, read by
Speaker 1: John Greenman. It was evening when Philip took the cars
Speaker 1: at the Ilium station. The news of his success had
Speaker 1: preceded him, and while he waited for the train, he
Speaker 1: was the center of a group of eager questioners, who
Speaker 1: asked him a hundred things about the mine and magnified
Speaker 1: his good fortune. There was no mistake this time. Philip
Speaker 1: in luck had become suddenly a person of consideration, whose
Speaker 1: speech was freighted with meaning, whose looks were all significant.
Speaker 1: The words of the proprietor of a rich coal mine
Speaker 1: have a golden sound, and his common sayings are repeated
Speaker 1: as if they were solid wisdom. Philip wished to be alone.
Speaker 1: His good fortune at this moment seemed an empty mockery,
Speaker 1: one of those sarcasms of fate, such as that which
Speaker 1: spreads a dainty banquet for the man who has no appetite.
Speaker 1: He had longed for success, principally for Ruth's sake, and
Speaker 1: perhaps now at this very moment of his triumph, she
Speaker 1: was dying. Just what I said, Mister Sadling, the landlord
Speaker 1: of the Ilium Hotel, kept repeating, I call Jake Schmidt,
Speaker 1: Ye find him there, shust so sure as nothing. You
Speaker 1: ought to have taken a share, mister Dusenheimer, said Philip.
Speaker 1: Guess I know, but don't woman? She say you sticks
Speaker 1: to your piece in this, So I sticks to them
Speaker 1: on time? Makes nothing that mister Priorly, he don't never
Speaker 1: come back here no more? Hain't it, why, asked Philip. Well,
Speaker 1: there is so many peers and so many other things.
Speaker 1: I got him and all set down, then he comes back.
Speaker 1: It was a long night for Philip, and a restless one.
Speaker 1: At any other time, the swing of the cars would
Speaker 1: have lulled him to sleep, and the rattle and clank
Speaker 1: of wheels and rails, the roar of the whirling iron
Speaker 1: would have only been cheerful reminders of swift and safe travel.
Speaker 1: Now they were voices of warning and taunting. And instead
Speaker 1: of going rapidly, the train seemed to crawl at a
Speaker 1: snail's pace. And it not only crawled, but it frequently stopped.
Speaker 1: And when it stopped, it stood dead still, and there
Speaker 1: was an ominous silence. Was anything the matter, he wondered,
Speaker 1: Only a station, probably, perhaps, he thought, a telegraphic station.
Speaker 1: And then he listened eagerly with the conductor opened the
Speaker 1: door and asked for Philip's sterling and hand him a
Speaker 1: fatal dispatch. How long they seemed to wait, and then
Speaker 1: slowly beginning to move, they were off again, shaking, pounding,
Speaker 1: screaming through the night. He drew his curtain from time
Speaker 1: to time and looked out. There was the lurid skyline
Speaker 1: of the wooded range along the base of which they
Speaker 1: were crawling. There was the Susquehanna gleaming in the moonlight.
Speaker 1: There was a stretch of level valley with d silent
Speaker 1: farm houses, the occupants all at rest, without trouble, without anxiety.
Speaker 1: There was a church, a graveyard, a mill, a village.
Speaker 1: And now, without paws or fear, the train had mounted
Speaker 1: a trestlework high in air, and was creeping along the
Speaker 1: top of it, while a swift torrent foamed a hundred
Speaker 1: feet below. What would the morning bring? Even while he
Speaker 1: was flying to her, her gentle spirit might have gone
Speaker 1: on another flight whither he could not follow. Her. He
Speaker 1: was full of foreboding. He fell at length into a
Speaker 1: restless doze. There was a noise in his ears, as
Speaker 1: of a rushing torrent when a stream is swollen by
Speaker 1: a freshet in the spring. It was like the breaking
Speaker 1: up of life. He was struggling in the consciousness of
Speaker 1: coming death. When Ruth stood by his side, closed in white,
Speaker 1: with a face like that of an angel, radiant, smiling,
Speaker 1: pointing to the sky and saying come, He awoke with
Speaker 1: a cry. The train was roaring through a bridge, and
Speaker 1: it shot out into daylight. When morning came, the train
Speaker 1: was industriously toiling along through the fat lands of Lancaster,
Speaker 1: with its broad farms of corn and wheat, its mean
Speaker 1: houses of stone, its vast barns and granaries built as
Speaker 1: if for storing the riches of Heliogabalus. Then came the
Speaker 1: smiling fields of Chester with their English green, and soon
Speaker 1: the county of Philadelphia itself, and the increasing signs of
Speaker 1: the approach to a great city. Long trains of coal
Speaker 1: cars laden and unladen, stood upon sidings. The tracks of
Speaker 1: other roads were crossed. The smoke of other locomotives was
Speaker 1: seen on parallel lines. Factories multiplied streets appeared, the noise
Speaker 1: of a busy city began to fill the air, and
Speaker 1: with a slower and slower clank on the connecting rails
Speaker 1: and interlacing switches, the train rolled into the station and
Speaker 1: stood still. It was a hot August morning. The broad
Speaker 1: streets glowed in the sun, and the white shuttered houses
Speaker 1: stared at the hot thoroughfares like closed baker's ovens set
Speaker 1: along the highway. Philip was oppressed with the heavy air.
Speaker 1: The sweltering city lay as in a swoon. Taking a
Speaker 1: street car, he rode away to the northern part of
Speaker 1: the city, the newer portion, formerly the district of Spring Garden.
Speaker 1: For in this the Boltons now lived in a small
Speaker 1: brick house, befitting their altered fortunes, He could scarcely restrain
Speaker 1: his impatience. When he came in sight of the house,
Speaker 1: the window shutters were not bowed, Thank god for that
Speaker 1: Ruth was still living. Then he ran up the steps
Speaker 1: and rang. Missus Bolton met him at the door. Thee
Speaker 1: is very welcome, Philip and Ruth. She is very ill,
Speaker 1: but quieter than she has been, and the fever is
Speaker 1: a little abating. The most dangerous time will be when
Speaker 1: the fever leaves her. The doctor fears she will not
Speaker 1: have strength enough to rally from it. Yes, thee can
Speaker 1: see her. Missus Bolton led the way to the little
Speaker 1: chamber where Ruth lay. Oh said her mother. If she
Speaker 1: were only in her cool and spacious room in her
Speaker 1: old home, she says, that seems like heaven. Mister Bolton
Speaker 1: sat by Ruth's bedside, and he rose and silently pressed
Speaker 1: Philip's hand. The room had but one window that was
Speaker 1: wide open to admit the air, but the air that
Speaker 1: came in was hot and lifeless. Upon the table stood
Speaker 1: a vase of flowers. Ruth's eyes were closed, her cheeks
Speaker 1: were flushed with fever, and she moved her head restlessly,
Speaker 1: as if in pain. Ruth said her mother, bending over her,
Speaker 1: Philip is here. Ruth's eyes unclosed, there was a gleam
Speaker 1: of recognition in them. There was an attempt at a
Speaker 1: smile upon her face, and she tried to raise her
Speaker 1: thin hand as Philip touched her forehead with his lips,
Speaker 1: and he heard her murmur, dear phil There was nothing
Speaker 1: to be done but to watch and wait for the
Speaker 1: cruel fever to burn itself out. Doctor Longstreet told Philip
Speaker 1: that the fever had undoubtedly been contracted in the hospital,
Speaker 1: but it was not malignant and would be little dangerous
Speaker 1: if Ruth were not so worn down with work, or
Speaker 1: if she had a less delicate constitution. It is only
Speaker 1: her indomitable will that has kept her up for weeks,
Speaker 1: and if that should leave her now, there will be
Speaker 1: no hope. You can do more for her now, sir,
Speaker 1: than I can, how asked Philip eagerly. Your presence, more
Speaker 1: than anything else, will inspire her with a desire to live.
Speaker 1: When the fever turned, Ruth was in a very critical condition.
Speaker 1: For two days. Her life was like the fluttering of
Speaker 1: a lighted candle in the wind. Philip was constantly by
Speaker 1: her side, and she seemed to be conscious of his
Speaker 1: presence and to cling to him as one borne away
Speaker 1: by a swift stream clings to a stretched out hand
Speaker 1: from the shore. If he was absent a moment, her
Speaker 1: restless eyes sought something they were disappointed not to find.
Speaker 1: Philip so yearned to bring her back to life. He
Speaker 1: willed it so strongly and passionately that his will appeared
Speaker 1: to affect hers, and she seemed slowly to draw life
Speaker 1: from his After two days of this struggle with a
Speaker 1: grasping enemy, it was evident to doctor Longstreet that Ruth's
Speaker 1: will was beginning to issue its orders to her body
Speaker 1: with some force, and that strength was slowly coming back.
Speaker 1: In another day there was a decided improvement. As Philip
Speaker 1: sat holding her weak hand and watching the least sign
Speaker 1: of resolution in her face, Ruth was able to whisper,
Speaker 1: I so want to live for you, phil You will, Darling,
Speaker 1: you must, said Philip, in a tone of faith and courage,
Speaker 1: but carried a thrill of determination of command along all
Speaker 1: her nerves. Slowly Philip drew her back to life. Slowly
Speaker 1: she came back as one willing but well nigh helpless.
Speaker 1: It was new for Ruth to fail, this dependence on
Speaker 1: another's nature, to consciously draw strength of will from the
Speaker 1: will of another. It was a new, but a dear
Speaker 1: joy to be lifted up and carried back into the
Speaker 1: happy world, which was now all aglow with the light
Speaker 1: of love. To be lifted and carried by the one
Speaker 1: she loved more than her own life, sweetheart, she said
Speaker 1: to Philip, I would not have cared to come back
Speaker 1: but for thy love, not for thy profession. Oh, THEE
Speaker 1: may be glad enough of that some day when thy
Speaker 1: coal bed is dug out, and THEE and father are
Speaker 1: in the air again. When Ruth was able to ride,
Speaker 1: she was taken into the country, for the pure air
Speaker 1: was necessary to her speedy recovery. The family went with her.
Speaker 1: Philip could not be spared from her side, and mister
Speaker 1: Bolton had gone up to Ilium to look into that
Speaker 1: wonderful coal mine and to make arrangements for developing it
Speaker 1: and bringing its wealth to market. Philip had insisted on
Speaker 1: reconveying the Ilian property to mister Bolton, retaining only the
Speaker 1: share originally contemplated for himself, and mister Bolton therefore once
Speaker 1: more found himself engaged in business and a person of
Speaker 1: some consequence in Third Street. The mind turned out even
Speaker 1: better than was at first hoped, and would, if judiciously managed,
Speaker 1: be a fortune to them all. This also seemed to
Speaker 1: be the opinion of mister Biggler, who heard of it
Speaker 1: as soon as anybody, and with the impudence of his class,
Speaker 1: called upon mister Bolton for a little aid in a
Speaker 1: patent car wheel. He had bought an interest in that
Speaker 1: rascal small, he said, had swindled him out of all
Speaker 1: he had. Mister Bolton told him he was very sorry
Speaker 1: and recommended him to sue Small. Mister Small also came
Speaker 1: with a similar story about mister Bigler, and mister Bolton
Speaker 1: had the grace to give him like advice, and he added,
Speaker 1: if you and Biggler will procure the indictment of each other,
Speaker 1: you may have the satisfaction of putting each other in
Speaker 1: the penitentiary for the forgery of my acceptances. Biggler and
Speaker 1: Small did not quarrel. However, they both attacked mister Bolton
Speaker 1: behind his back as a swindler and circulated the story
Speaker 1: that he had made a fortune by failing in the
Speaker 1: pure air of the highlands. Amid the golden glories of
Speaker 1: ripening September, Ruth rapidly came back to health. How beautiful
Speaker 1: the world is to an invalid whose senses are all clarified,
Speaker 1: who has been so near the world of spirits that
Speaker 1: she is sensitive to the finest influences, and whose frame
Speaker 1: responds with a thrill to the subtlest ministrations of soothing nature.
Speaker 1: Mere life is a luxury, and the color of the grass,
Speaker 1: of the flowers of the sky, the wind in the trees,
Speaker 1: the outlines of the horizon, the forms of clouds, all
Speaker 1: give a pleasure as exquisite as the sweetest music to
Speaker 1: the ear, famishing for it. The world was all new,
Speaker 1: and to Ruth as if it had just been created
Speaker 1: for her, and love filled it till her heart was
Speaker 1: overflowing with happiness. It was golden September, also at fall kill,
Speaker 1: and Alice sat by the open window in her room
Speaker 1: at home, looking out upon the meadows where the laborers
Speaker 1: were cutting the second crop of clover. The fragrance of
Speaker 1: it floated to her nostrils. Perhaps she did not mind it.
Speaker 1: She was thinking. She had just been writing to Ruth,
Speaker 1: and on the table before her was a yellow piece
Speaker 1: of paper with a faded four leaved clover pinned upon it,
Speaker 1: only a memory now. In her letter to Ruth, she
Speaker 1: had poured out her heartiest blessings upon them both with
Speaker 1: her dear love forever and forever. Thank God, she said,
Speaker 1: they will never know, they never would know, and the
Speaker 1: world never knows how many women there are like Alice,
Speaker 1: whose sweet but lonely lives of self sacrifice, gentle, faithful,
Speaker 1: loving souls blessed Cantinually, she is a dear girl, said Philip,
Speaker 1: when Ruth showed him the letter. Yes, phil and we
Speaker 1: can spare a great deal of love for her. Our
Speaker 1: own lives are so full. End of Chapter sixty three, Appendix.
Speaker 1: Perhaps some apology to the reader is necessary in view
Speaker 1: of our failure to find Laura's father. We supposed, from
Speaker 1: the ease with which lost persons are found in novels,
Speaker 1: that it would not be difficult. But it was. Indeed,
Speaker 1: it was impossible, and therefore the portions of the narrative
Speaker 1: containing the record of the search have been stricken out,
Speaker 1: not because they were not interesting, for they were, but
Speaker 1: inasmuch as the man was not found. After all, it
Speaker 1: did not seem wise to harass and excite the reader
Speaker 1: to no purpose the authors. End of Appendix and End
Speaker 1: of the Gilded Age, A Tale of to Day read
Speaker 1: by John Greenman,