Glorious by Jeff Guinn Page A

became drowsy. McLendon washed her bloody face, put her to bed, then called the servants to clean up the dining room. When the Douglasses returned the next day, McLendon told them what had happened. They weren’t surprised.
    â€œEllen does these things,” her mother said wearily. “We’d hoped being married might calm her. If this happens again while we’re absent and you can’t restrain her, call for Mrs. Reynolds. She’ll help you.”
    McLendon asked, “Aren’t there places where Ellen might go to be helped? With special doctors trained in this kind of thing?”
    â€œYou mean lunatic asylums,” Mr. Douglass snapped. “Not for my daughter—ever. Be a good husband to her. Maybe it will help. And next time, no extra laudanum. She could become addicted.”
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    M C L ENDON REALIZED that he had made a bad bargain. He was important now, and could have virtually any material thing that he wanted. But it was impossible for him to relax at home, because henever knew when Ellen would suffer one of her fits. They usually involved loudly accusing him in the coarsest possible terms of being unfaithful. Sometimes her parents helped gently subdue her, but usually they left it to McLendon. After each episode, he found himself remembering the sense of peace he’d found with Gabrielle. At home at night, when he needed time away from Ellen’s tantrums, he closed himself inside a small room he used as a study and reread the books that Gabrielle had given him. Now, when he owned so many fine things, he realized that
The Last of the Mohicans
was his most prized possession. He thought how comforting it would be to see Gabrielle again, even as an old friend rather than a lover. But he’d promised Mr. Douglass that he’d have no further contact with her. It wasn’t worth the risk.
    In late 1871, McLendon had to meet with a foreman at the factory directly across from Tirrito Dry Goods. He’d consciously avoided going anywhere near there, but now had no choice. Though he couldn’t talk to Gabrielle, perhaps he might catch a discreet glimpse of her. Surely Mr. Douglass couldn’t fault him for that. He felt impatient during the factory meeting, finally cutting it short, and left the building through a side entrance that offered a clear view of the dry goods shop. He was stunned to see that it was empty. The door sagged open toward the sidewalk. The hand-carved sign in front was gone.
    Stunned, McLendon walked into the store. There was dust and cobwebs on the shelves. It had clearly been empty for some time. He went outside and circled to the small house in back. It was empty too. A woman was sweeping the porch of a nearby house, and McLendon recognized Gabrielle’s aunt Lidia. When he greeted her, she glared and said contemptuously, “You.”
    â€œThey’re gone?” McLendon asked, knowing that he sounded foolish and not caring that he did.
    â€œYou broke her heart, so they left. A letter I got says they’re in thatArizona Territory, someplace called Glorious. They got another store. After what you done to her, she couldn’t stay here.”
    â€œI thought her father loved this store.”
    â€œHe loved the girl more, just like you should have. She’s a good one, the best. Now go away.”
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    F OR SEVERAL MONTHS after her wedding, Ellen continued having violent fits. McLendon wearily accepted them as a new fact in his life—and then they stopped. A week went by, then another, and Ellen remained calm. She was attentive to her husband, and talked in the evening about normal things like the weather and decorating the mansion for Christmas. She seemed so calm that one Sunday afternoon McLendon told Mr. Douglass that he thought he might take Ellen out for a short carriage ride. There had been snow during the week, and the countryside had taken