"Did you see her?" asked a young brother of his sister. "Never
mind, Aileen," commented Cowperwood, with that iron determination
that brooks no defeat. "We will be a part of this. Don't fret.
You will have everything you want in Chicago, and more besides."

There was tingling over his fingers, into the reins, into the
horses, a mysterious vibrating current that was his chemical
product, the off-giving of his spirit battery that made his hired
horses prance like children. They chafed and tossed their heads
and snorted. Aileen was fairly bursting with hope and vanity
and longing. Oh, to be Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood here in
Chicago, to have a splendid mansion, to have her cards of invitation
practically commands which might not be ignored!

"Oh, dear!" she sighed to herself, mentally. "If only it were all
true--now."

It is thus that life at its topmost toss irks and pains. Beyond
is ever the unattainable, the lure of the infinite with its infinite
ache.

"Oh, life! oh, youth! oh, hope! oh, years! Oh pain-winged fancy,
beating forth with fears."




Chapter IV