I have had for many years the happiness of being one of Margaret’s literary advisers. This was a new and interesting experience, for it is the man or woman behind every book that gives its deepest interest; that is the reason intimate friends are bored by each other’s books. When you know the answer to the riddle, the riddle no longer exists! In my family we all wrote books inevitably, and while we tried to be patient with each other, we were rather tried by each other’s work. I rarely knew what my sisters, my mother, or Crawford were writing, and more rarely read their books when they were published. With Margaret the case was different. Here were deep, unsuspected springs of prejudice and tradition. Southern and Middle States instincts—her people had been slave owners—unlike any I had known. So I could not trace the origin of every character and incident in her writings, as I thought I could in the family books!
How many times I heard “Helena Ritchie”, “The Iron Woman”, and “The Rising Tide” I should not like to say, but I know the characters in these books far better than any of my own drawing. Mrs. Deland wrote all her books in longhand, scorning the help of typewriter or stenographer. Dr. Lavender remains for me her most successful character. I have a theory about him that always amused her.
“When Dr. Lavender speaks, it is your subconscious self,” I maintained. Though she had not great physical vigor, Mrs. Deland has always been a hard worker. She had few friends and few relations; the whole force of her affection was concentrated on her husband, to whom she dedicated every book. I have never known any human affection quite like that between Margaret and her husband. He was a genial social man, with many friends, who liked his club and his business associates. He said to her one day:
“Really, Margaret, if you had your way, we should pass every day of our lives alone together. This would not be good for either of us.”
Lorin Deland was one of the few men who did not resent his wife’s greater reputation. He did not mind being spoken of as “the husband of Margaret Deland”, and was far prouder of her than she was of herself. He was a very lovable man, with a certain breadth of sympathy his wife lacked. He liked men, women, and children, while she preferred flowers and the “people with the green heads”! If Margaret had not been so successful as a writer, Lorin Deland would have written far more than he did. He has left two small volumes, both well worth reading, “Imagination in Business”, and a book of short stories, “At the Sign of the Dollar.”
Of these tales, “Concerning X 107” is a true story of a young woman criminal, with a Jekyll and Hyde personality. Her life has been debased and vicious, but she is capable of the highest aspiration, as is shown by her poems. The story is of absorbing interest, beautifully conceived and written, but its greatest value is as a revelation of Lorin’s own nature. He had that true knightliness that hears and responds to every cry for help from the helpless. His work among forsaken women and girls was incessant and beneficent. This large-hearted man had no child, and the intense feeling of tenderness in him seemed to find its relief in helping the weakest of his kind. After his death a group of young girls to whom he had shown the tenderest care sent his wife a funeral wreath with this dedication:
“He was the father of thousands of girls.”
“You cannot let that inscription go as it is!” a friend said to Margaret.
“Why not?” was the answer; then as an afterthought, “How Lorin would have laughed!”