But neither Reverdy nor myself could work out any permanent program for Zoe.  After all, what was humanly possible?  Zoe was now about nineteen.  If she was dealt with justly as to her property what more could I do?  If there was danger from Fortescue, or any one else, I was powerless to prevent it.  Since she did not wish to live with me, I had no power to make her do so.

In November Reverdy and I went to Meredosia to see the locomotive which had been shipped from Pittsburgh for Illinois’ first railroad.  All of the horses and oxen of the neighborhood were required to pull the huge iron thing up the banks of the river; and scores of men in ant-like activity worked about it to place it upon the rails.  Douglas was in the crowd, happy and enthusiastic.  He joined the party, headed by Governor Duncan, in the first journey that a steam train ever made in the state.  He tried to make a place for Reverdy and me; but the Governor had filled all the seats with his friends:  so we stood as spectators, while the new wonder moved on its way, pulled by the queer locomotive, amid the shouts of the crowd, responded to by the calls of those on board.

Going back to Jacksonville I ventured to talk to Reverdy about Dorothy.  He knew well enough what my feeling was for her.  He knew the story; he knew her attitude.  He did not share in her fears, in her feeling about Zoe.  He was frank to say that Zoe could do nothing, could be nothing that need affect my life in any way more serious than if her skin was white.  But he explained that Dorothy had the southern view; and if I wished to wait and see if she could work herself out of doubts, well and good; and if I could not further hope he could understand that too.  I wanted to write to Dorothy to tell her that Zoe was still away and that I thought she would never return.  But perhaps after all Dorothy’s attitude was founded in an innate prejudice against the relationship to which she would make herself a party by marrying me.  Was this not perfectly unreasonable?  It made me distrust Dorothy’s nature at times.  What was she after all?  Finally, however, I wrote to Dorothy as best I could and after many ineffectual trials at expressing myself.  Promptly enough a letter came back.  It was not lacking in kindness, but it offered no hope.  Hurt and listless I tried to turn my thoughts to other things.  There were always my growing enterprises—­and yet to what end?  To be rich, to be richer.

When December came I had a letter from Miss Walker.  She was in Springfield at the Ridgeway mansion for a visit through the holidays.  There were to be parties and dances.  Why did I not come over?  And I went.