Karl and Ernestine Hubers are quite different in interest and temperament, but their whirlwind courtship and happy marriage prove to the world that they are mature and happy people capable of handling their diverse personalities. Karl, a research professor at the University of Chicago, and Ernestine, a talented artist, pursue personal interests until the time when Karl is blinded by the specimens with which he is working. The loss of his sight drives him into a state of deep depression which Ernestine feels can be alleviated only by his return to the laboratory which he loves. To that end, she gives up her painting to spend untold hours at the university studying his work and the background writing in the field so that, with her assistance, he can go on with his experiments. Karl's death at the moment when Ernestine at last feels competent to work with him comes as a terrible shock to her, but she begins to restructure her life around her work in the same manner that she had earlier built her life around Karl's. The Glory of the Conquered is Susan Glaspell's first novel, bringing her instantaneous success. It has its faults--the nature of Karl's work is vague, his illness is undefined, and the tugs on the heartstrings are wearying. But what the author lacks in medical knowledge and terminology she makes up in her presentation of the intellectual life at the University of Chicago around 1900; and the sentimentality can be overlooked for the goodly portions of beauty in style and imagination in plot which she so adequately displays.--Book Review Digest, 1909
you tell them you are going to marry me. Some kind of divine hallucination is upon you, acting for my good, and you do not see how profoundly you are to be pitied. But other people will see, and will tell you about it, only you will think they are under a hallucination, which is one of the phases of yours. The truth is I am a grubbing old scientist. I prowl around in laboratories and don't know much of anything else, and more than half the time my hands are stained with unaesthetic colours you won't like at all. And they tell me I have a foolish way of sitting and thinking about one thing, and that sometimes I don't do things I say I am going to--meet my appointments and things like that, although of course that won't apply to you. And here you might have married some artist chap, or society fellow who would know all about the proper thing!
"But never mind, poor little girl--I'll make it up to you. You may miss some of the lesser, but you'll have the greater. You'll have the love that enf