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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7866-0.txt b/7866-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a0ea3fe --- /dev/null +++ b/7866-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4840 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, An Ambitious Man, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: An Ambitious Man + + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + + + +Release Date: July 5, 2014 [eBook #7866] +[This file was first posted on May 28, 2003] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AMBITIOUS MAN*** + + +Transcribed from the 1914 Gay & Hancock Ltd. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Book cover] + + + + + + AN + AMBITIOUS MAN + + + BY + + ELLA WHEELER WILCOX + + [Picture: Decorative graphic] + + LONDON + + GAY & HANCOCK LTD. + 12 AND 13 HENRIETTA STREET, STRAND + + 1914 + + [_All Rights Reserved_] + + * * * * * + + _First Edition 1908_ + + _Popular Edition 1914_ + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +PRESTON CHENEY turned as he ran down the steps of a handsome house on +“The Boulevard,” waving a second adieu to a young woman framed between +the lace curtains of the window. Then he hurried down the street and out +of view. The young woman watched him with a gleam of satisfaction in her +pale blue eyes. A fine-looking young fellow, whose Roman nose and strong +jaw belied the softly curved mouth with its sensitive darts at the +corners; it was strange that something warmer than satisfaction did not +shine upon the face of the woman whom he had just asked to be his wife. + +But Mabel Lawrence was one of those women who are never swayed by any +passion stronger than worldly ambition, never burned by any fires other +than those of jealousy or anger. Her meagre nature was truly depicted in +her meagre face. Nature is ofttimes a great lair and a cruel jester, +giving to the cold and vapid woman the face and form of a sensuous siren, +and concealing a heart of volcanic fires, or the soul of a Phryne, under +the exterior of a spinster. But the old dame had been wholly frank in +forming Miss Lawrence. The thin, flat chest and narrow shoulders, the +angular elbows and prominent shoulder-blades, the sallow skin and sharp +features, the deeply set, pale blue eyes, and the lustreless, ashen hair, +were all truthful exponents of the unfurnished rooms in her vacant heart +and soul places. + +Miss Lawrence turned from the window, and trailed her long silken train +across the rich carpet, seating herself before the open fireplace. It +was an appropriate time and situation for a maiden’s tender dreams; only +a few hours had passed since the handsomest and most brilliant young man +in that thriving eastern town had asked her to be his wife, and placed +the kiss of betrothal upon her virgin lips. Yet it was with a sense of +triumph and relief, rather than with tenderness and rapture, that the +young woman meditated upon the situation—triumph over other women who had +shown a decided interest in Mr Cheney, since his arrival in the place +more than eighteen months ago, and relief that the dreaded rôle of +spinster was not to be her part in life’s drama. + +Miss Lawrence was twenty-six—one year older than her fiancé; and she had +never received a proposal of marriage or listened to a word of love in +her life before. Let me transpose that phrase—she had never before +received a proposal of marriage, and had never in her life listened to a +word of love; for Preston had not spoken of love. She knew that he did +not love her. She knew that he had sought her hand wholly from ambitious +motives. She was the daughter of the Hon. Sylvester Lawrence, lawyer, +judge, state senator, and proposed candidate for lieutenant-governor in +the coming campaign. She was the only heir to his large fortune. + +Preston Cheney was a penniless young man from the West. A self-made +youth, with an unusual brain and an overwhelming ambition, he had risen +from chore boy on a western farm to printer’s apprentice in a small town, +thence to reporter, city editor, foreign correspondent, and after two or +three years of travel gained in this manner he had come to Beryngford and +bought out a struggling morning paper, which was making a mad effort to +keep alive, changed its political tendencies, infused it with western +activity and filled it with cosmopolitan news, and now, after eighteen +months, the young man found himself coming abreast of his two long +established rivals in the editorial field. This success was but an +incentive to his overwhelming ambition for place, power and riches. He +had seen just enough of life and of the world to estimate these things at +double their value; and he was, beside, looking at life through the +magnifying glass of youth. The Creator intended us to gaze on worldly +possessions and selfish ambitions through the small end of the lorgnette, +but youth invariably inverts the glass. + +To the young editor, the brief years behind him seemed like a long hard +pull up a steep and rocky cliff. From the point to which he had +attained, the summit of his desires looked very far away, much farther +than the level from which he had arisen. To rise to that summit +single-handed and alone would require unremitting effort through the very +best years of his manhood. His brain, his strength, his ability, his +ambitions, what were they all in the strife after place and power, +compared to the money of some commonplace adversary? Preston Cheney, the +native-born American directly descended from a Revolutionary soldier, +would be handicapped in the race with some Michael Murphy whose father +had made a fortune in the saloon business, or who had himself acquired a +competency as a police officer. + +America was not the same country which gave men like Benjamin Franklin, +Abraham Lincoln and Horace Greeley a chance to rise from the lower ranks +to the highest places before they reached middle life. It was no longer +a land where merit strove with merit, and the prize fell to the most +earnest and the most gifted. The tremendous influx of foreign population +since the war of the Rebellion and the right of franchise given +unreservedly to the illiterate and the vicious rendered the ambitious +American youth now a toy in the hands of aliens, and position a thing to +be bought at the price set by un-American masses. + +Thoughts like these had more and more with each year filled the mind of +Preston Cheney, until, like the falling of stones and earth into a river +bed, they changed the naturally direct current of his impulses into +another channel. Why not further his life purpose by an ambitious +marriage? The first time the thought entered his mind he had cast it out +as something unclean and unworthy of his manhood. Marriage was a holy +estate, he said to himself, a sacrament to be entered into with +reverence, and sanctified by love. He must love the woman who was to be +the companion of his life, the mother of his children. + +Then he looked about among his early friends who had married, as nearly +all the young men of the middle classes in America do marry, for love, or +what they believed to be love. There was Tom Somers—a splendid lad, full +of life, hope and ambition when he married Carrie Towne, the prettiest +girl in Vandalia. Well, what was he now, after seven years? A +broken-spirited man, with a sickly, complaining wife and a brood of +ill-clad children. Harry Walters, the most infatuated lover he had ever +seen, was divorced after five years of discordant marriage. + +Charlie St Clair was flagrantly unfaithful to the girl he had pursued +three years with his ardent wooings before she yielded to his suit. +Certainly none of these love marriages were examples for him to follow. +And in the midst of these reveries and reflections, Preston Cheney came +to Beryngford, and met Sylvester Lawrence and his daughter Mabel. He met +also Berene Dumont. Had he not met the latter woman he would not have +succumbed—so soon at least—to the temptation held out by the former to +advance his ambitious aims. + +He would have hesitated, considered, and reconsidered, and without doubt +his better nature and his good taste would have prevailed. But when fate +threw Berene Dumont in his way, and circumstances brought about his close +associations with her for many months, there seemed but one way of escape +from the Scylla of his desires, and that was to the Charybdis of a +marriage with Miss Lawrence. + +Miss Lawrence was not aware of the part Berene Dumont had played in her +engagement, but she knew perfectly the part her father’s influence and +wealth had played; but she was quite content with affairs as they were, +and it mattered little to her what had brought them about. To be +married, rather than to be loved, had been her ambition since she left +school; being incapable of loving, she was incapable of appreciating the +passion in any of its phases. It had always seemed to her that a great +deal of nonsense was written and talked about love. She thought +demonstrative people very vulgar, and believed kissing a means of +conveying germs of disease. + +But to be a married woman, with an establishment of her own, and a +husband to exhibit to her friends, was necessary to the maintenance of +her pride. + +When Miss Lawrence’s mother, a nervous invalid, was informed of her +daughter’s engagement, she burst into tears, as over a lamb offered on +the altar of sacrifice; and Judge Lawrence pressed a kiss on the lobe of +Mabel’s left ear which she offered him, and told her she had won a prize +in the market. But as he sat alone over his cigar that night, he sighed +heavily, and said to himself, “Poor fellow, I wish Mabel were not so much +like her mother.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +“BARONESS BROWN” was a distinctive figure in Beryngford. She came to the +place from foreign parts some three years before the arrival of Preston +Cheney, and brought servants, carriages and horses, and established +herself in a very handsome house which she rented for a term of years. +Her arrival in this quiet village town was of course the sensation of the +hour, or rather of the year. She was known as Baroness Le Fevre—an +American widow of a French baron. Large, voluptuous, blonde, and +handsome according to the popular idea of beauty, distinctly amiable, +affable and very charitable, she became at once the fashion. + +Invitations to her house were eagerly sought after, and her +entertainments were described in column articles by the press. + +This state of things continued only six months, however. Then it began +to be whispered about that the Baroness was in arrears for her rent. +Several of her servants had gone away in a high state of temper at the +titled mistress who had failed to pay them a cent of wages since they +came to the country with her; and one day the neighbours saw her fine +carriage horses led away by the sheriff. + +A week later society was electrified by the announcement of the marriage +of Baroness Le Fevre to Mr Brown, a wealthy widower who owned the best +shoe store in Beryngford. + +Mr Brown owned ten children also, but the youngest was a boy of sixteen, +absent in college. The other nine were married and settled in +comfortable homes. + +Mr Brown died at the expiration of a year. This one year had taught him +more of womankind than he had learned in all his sixty and nine years +before; and, feeling that it is never too late to profit by learning, Mr +Brown discreetly made his will, leaving all his property save the widow’s +“thirds” equally divided among his ten children. + +The Baroness made a futile effort to break the will, on the ground that +he was not of sound mind when it was drawn up; but the effort cost her +several hundred of her few thousand dollars and the increased enmity of +the ten Brown children, and availed her nothing. An important part of +the widow’s third was the Brown mansion, a large, commodious house built +many years before, when the village was but a country town. Everybody +supposed the Baroness, as she was still called, half in derision and half +from the American love of mouthing a title, would offer this house for +sale, and depart for fresh fields and pastures new. But the Baroness +never did what she was expected to do. + +Instead of offering her house for sale, she offered “Rooms to Let,” and +turned the family mansion into a fashionable lodging-house. + +Its central location, and its adjacence to several restaurants and +boarding houses, rendered it a convenient place for business people to +lodge, and the handsome widow found no trouble in filling her rooms with +desirable and well-paying patrons. In a spirit of fun, people began to +speak of the old Brown mansion as “The Palace,” and in a short time the +lodging-house was known by that name, just as its mistress was known as +“Baroness Brown.” + +The Palace yielded the Baroness something like two hundred dollars a +month, and cost her only the wages and keeping of three servants; or +rather the wages of two and the keeping of three; for to Berene Dumont, +her maid and personal attendant, she paid no wages. + +The Baroness did not rise till noon, and she always breakfasted in bed. +Sometimes she remained in her room till mid-afternoon. Berene served her +breakfast and lunch, and looked after the servants to see that the +lodgers’ rooms were all in order. These were the services for which she +was given a home. But in truth the young woman did much more than this; +she acted also as seamstress and milliner for her mistress, and attended +to the marketing and ran errands for her. If ever a girl paid full price +for her keeping, it was Berene, and yet the Baroness spoke frequently of +“giving the poor thing a home.” + +It had all come about in this way. Pierre Dumont kept a second-hand book +store in Beryngford. He was French, and the national characteristic of +frugality had assumed the shape of avarice in his nature. He was, too, a +petty tyrant and a cruel husband and father when under the influence of +absinthe, a state in which he was usually to be found. + +Berene was an only child, and her mother, whom she worshipped, said, when +dying, “Take care of your poor father, Berene. Do everything you can to +make him happy. Never desert him.” + +Berene was fourteen at that time. She had never been at school, but she +had been taught to read and write both French and English, for her mother +was an American girl who had been disinherited by her grandparents, with +whom she lived, for eloping with her French teacher—Pierre Dumont. +Rheumatism and absinthe turned the French professor into a shopkeeper +before Berene was born. The grandparents had died without forgiving +their granddaughter, and, much as the unhappy woman regretted her foolish +marriage, she remained a patient and devoted wife to the end of her life, +and imposed the same patience and devotion when dying on her daughter. + +At sixteen, Berene was asked to sacrifice herself on the altar of +marriage to a man three times her age; one Jacques Letellier, who offered +generously to take the young girl as payment for a debt owed by his +convivial comrade, M. Dumont. Berene wept and begged piteously to be +spared this horrible sacrifice of her young life, whereupon Pierre Dumont +seized his razor and threatened suicide as the other alternative from the +dishonour of debt, and Berene in terror yielded her word and herself the +next day to the debasing mockery of marriage with a depraved old gambler +and _roué_. + +Six months later Jacques Letellier died in a fit of apoplexy and Berene +was freed from her chains; but freed only to keep on in a life of +martyrdom as servant and slave to the caprices of her father, until his +death. When he was finally well buried under six feet of earth, Berene +found herself twenty years of age, alone in the world with just one +thousand dollars in money, the price brought by her father’s effects. + +Without education or accomplishments, she was the possessor of youth, +health, charm, and a voice of wonderful beauty and power; a voice which +it was her dream to cultivate, and use as a means of support. But how +could she ever cultivate it? The thousand dollars in her possession was, +she knew, but a drop in the ocean of expense a musical education would +entail. And she must keep that money until she found some way by which +to support herself. + +Baroness Brown had attended the sale of old Dumont’s effects. She had +often noticed the young girl in the shop, and in the street, and had been +struck with the peculiar elegance and refinement of her appearance. Her +simple lawn or print gowns were made and worn in a manner befitting a +princess. Her nails were carefully kept, despite all the household +drudgery which devolved upon her. + +The Baroness was a shrewd woman and a clever reasoner. She needed a +thrifty, prudent person in her house to look after things, and to attend +to her personal needs. Since she had opened the Palace as a +lodging-house, this need had stared her in the face. Servants did very +well in their places, but the person she required was of another and +superior order, and only to be obtained by accident or by advertising and +the paying of a large salary. Now the Baroness had been in the habit of +thinking that her beauty and amiability were quite equivalent to any +favours she received from humanity at large. Ever since she was a plump +girl in short dresses, she had learned that smiles and compliments from +her lips would purchase her friends of both sexes, who would do +disagreeable duties for her. She had never made it a custom to pay out +money for any service she could obtain otherwise. So now as she looked +on this young woman who, though a widow, seemed still a mere child, it +occurred to her that Fate had with its usual kindness thrown in her path +the very person she needed. + +She offered Berene “a home” at the Palace in return for a few small +services. The lonely girl, whose strangely solitary life with her old +father had excluded her from all social relations outside, grasped at +this offer from the handsome lady whom she had long admired from a +distance, and went to make her home at the Palace. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +BERENE had been several months in her new home when Preston Cheney came +to lodge at the Palace. + +He met her on the stairway the first morning after his arrival, as he was +descending to the street door. + +Bringing up a tray covered with a snowy napkin, she stepped to one side +and paused, to make room for him to pass. + +Preston was not one of those young men who find pastime in flirtations +with nursery maids or kitchen girls. The very thought of it offended his +good taste. Once, in listening to the boastful tales of a modern Don +Juan, who was relating his gallant adventures with a handsome waiter girl +at a hotel, Preston had remarked, “I would as soon think of using my +dinner napkin for a necktie, as finding romance with a servant girl.” + +Yet he appreciated a snowy, well-laundried napkin in its place, and he +was most considerate and thoughtful in his treatment of servants. + +He supposed Berene to be an upper servant of the house, and yet, as he +glanced at her, a strange and unaccountable feeling of interest seized +upon him. The creamy pallor of her skin, colourless save for the full +red lips, the dark eyes full of unutterable longing, the aristocratic +poise of the head, the softly rounded figure, elegant in its simple gown +and apron, all impressed him as he had never before been impressed by any +woman. + +It was several days before he chanced to see her again, and then only for +a moment as she passed through the hall; but he heard a trill of song +from her lips, which added to his interest and curiosity. “That girl is +no common servant,” he said to himself, and he resolved to learn more +about her. + +It had been the custom of the Baroness to keep herself quite hidden from +her lodgers. They seldom saw her, after the first business interview. +Therefore it was a matter of surprise to the young editor when he came +home from his office one night, just after twelve o’clock, and found the +mistress of the mansion standing in the hall by the register, in charming +evening attire. + +She smiled upon him radiantly. “I have just come in from a benefit +concert,” she said, “and I am as hungry as a bear. Now I cannot endure +eating alone at night. I knew it was near your hour to return, so I +waited for you. Will you go down to the dining-room with me and have a +Welsh rarebit? I am going to make one in my chafing dish.” + +The young man hid his surprise under a gallant smile, and offering the +Baroness his arm descended to the basement dining-room with her. He had +heard much about the complicated life of this woman, and he felt a +certain amount of natural curiosity in regard to her. He had met her but +once, and that was on the day when he had called to engage his room, a +little more than two weeks past. + +He had thought her an excellent type of the successful American +adventuress on that occasion, and her quiet and dull life in this +ordinary town puzzled him. He could not imagine a woman of that order +existing a whole year without an adventure; as a rule he knew that those +blonde women with large hips and busts, and small waists and feet, are as +unable to live without excitement as a fish without water. + +Yet, since the death of Mr Brown, more than a year past, the Baroness had +lived the life of a recluse. It puzzled him, as a student of human +nature. + +But, in fact, the Baroness was a skilled general in planning her +campaigns. She seldom plunged into action unprepared. + +She knew from experience that she could not live in a large city and not +use an enormous amount of money. + +She was tired of taking great risks, and she knew that without the aid of +money and a fine wardrobe she was not able to attract men as she had done +ten years before. + +As long as she remained in Beryngford she would be adding to her income +every month, and saving the few thousands she possessed. She would be +saving her beauty, too, by keeping early hours and living a temperate +life; and if she carefully avoided any new scandal, her past adventures +would be dim in the minds of people when, after a year or two more of +retirement and retrenchment, she sallied forth to new fields, under a new +name, if need be, and with a comfortably filled purse. + +It was in this manner that the Baroness had reasoned; but from the hour +she first saw Preston Cheney, her resolutions wavered. He impressed her +most agreeably; and after learning about him from the daily papers, and +hearing him spoken of as a valuable acquisition to Beryngford’s +intellectual society, the Baroness decided to come out of her retirement +and enter the lists in advance of other women who would seek to attract +this newcomer. + +To the fading beauty in her late thirties, a man in the early twenties +possesses a peculiar fascination; and to the Baroness, clothed in weeds +for a husband who died on the eve of his seventieth birthday, the +possibility of winning a young man like Preston Cheney overbalanced all +other considerations in her mind. She had never been a vulgar coquette +to whom all men were prey. She had always been more or less +discriminating. A man must be either very attractive or very rich to win +her regard. Mr Brown had been very rich, and Preston Cheney was very +attractive. + +“He is more than attractive, he is positively _fascinating_,” she said to +herself in the solitude of her room after the tête-à-tête over the Welsh +rarebit that evening. “I don’t know when I have felt such a pleasure in +a man’s presence. Not since—” But the Baroness did not allow herself to +go back so far. “If there is any fruit I _detest_, it is _dates_,” she +often said laughingly. “Some people delight in a good memory—I delight +in a good forgettory of the past, with its telltale milestones of +birthdays and anniversaries of marriages, deaths and divorces.” + +“Mr Cheney said I looked very young to have been twice married. Twice!” +and she laughed aloud before her mirror, revealing the pink arch of her +mouth, and two perfect sets of yellow-white teeth, with only one +blemishing spot of gold visible. “I wonder if he meant it, though?” she +mused. “And the fact that I _do_ wonder is the sure proof that I am +really interested in this man. As a rule, I never believe a word men +say, though I delight in their flattery all the same. It makes me feel +comfortable even when I know they are lying. But I should really feel +hurt if I thought Mr Cheney had not meant what he said. I don’t believe +he knows much about women, or about himself lower than his brain. He has +never studied his heart. He is all ambition. If an ambitious and +unsophisticated youth of twenty-five or twenty-eight does get infatuated +with a woman of my age—he is a perfect toy in her hands. Ah, well, we +shall see what we shall see.” And the Baroness finished her massage in +cold cream, and put her blonde head on the pillow and went sound asleep. + +After that first tête-à-tête supper the fair widow managed to see Preston +at least once or twice a week. She sent for him to ask his advice on +business matters, she asked him to aid her in changing the position of +the furniture in a room when the servants were all busy, and she invited +him to her private parlour for lunch every Sunday afternoon. It was +during one of these chats over cake and wine that the young man spoke of +Berene. The Baroness had dropped some remarks about her servants, and +Preston said, in a casual tone of voice which hid the real interest he +felt in the subject, “By the way, one of your servants has quite an +unusual voice. I have heard her singing about the halls a few times, and +it seems to me she has real talent.” + +“Oh, that is Miss Dumont—Berene Dumont—she is not an absolute servant,” +the Baroness replied; “she is a most unfortunate young woman to whom my +heart went out in pity, and I have given her a home. She is really a +widow, though she refuses to use her dead husband’s name.” + +“A widow?” repeated Preston with surprise and a queer sensation of +annoyance at his heart; “why, from the glimpse I had of her I thought her +a young girl.” + +“So she is, not over twenty-one at most, and woefully ignorant for that +age,” the Baroness said, and then she proceeded to outline Berene’s +history, laying a good deal of stress upon her own charitable act in +giving the girl a home. + +“She is so ignorant of life, despite the fact that she has been married, +and she is so uneducated and helpless, I could not bear to see her cast +into the path of designing people,” the Baroness said. “She has a strong +craving for an education, and I give her good books to read, and good +advice to ponder over, and I hope in time to come she will marry some +honest fellow and settle down to a quiet, happy home life. The man who +brings us butter and eggs from the country is quite fascinated with her, +but she does not deign him a glance.” And then the Baroness talked of +other things. + +But the history he had heard remained in Preston Cheney’s mind and he +could not drive the thought of this girl away. No wonder her eyes were +sad! Better blood ran in her veins than coursed under the pink flesh of +the Baroness, he would wager; she was the unfortunate victim of a +combination of circumstances, which had defrauded her of the advantages +of youth. + +He spoke with her in the hall one morning not long after that; and then +it grew to be a daily occurrence that he talked with her a few moments, +and before many weeks had passed the young man approached the Baroness +with a request. + +“I have become interested in your protégée Miss Dumont,” he said. “You +have done so much for her that you have stirred my better nature and made +me anxious to emulate your example. In talking with her in the hall one +day I learned her great desire for a better education, and her anxiety to +earn money. Now it has occurred to me that I might aid her in both ways. +We need two or three more girls in our office. We need one more in the +type-setting department. As _The Clarion_ is a morning paper, and you +never need Miss Dumont’s services after five o’clock, she could work a +few hours in the office, earn a small salary, and gain something in the +way of an education also, if she were ambitious enough to do so. Nearly +all my early education was gained as a printer. She tells me she is +faulty in the matter of spelling, and this would be excellent training +for her. You have, dear madam, inspired the girl with a desire for more +knowledge, and I hope you will let me carry on the good work you have +begun.” + +Preston had approached the matter in a way that could not fail to bring +success—by flattering the vanity and pride of the Baroness. So elated +was she with the agreeable references to herself, that she never +suspected the young man’s deep personal interest in the girl. She +believed in the beginning that he was showing Berene this kind attention +solely to please the mistress. + +Berene entered the office as type-setter, and made such astonishing +progress that she was promoted to the position of proof-reader ere six +months had passed. And hour by hour, day by day, week by week, the +strange influence which she had exerted on her employer, from the first +moment of their meeting, grew and strengthened, until he realised with a +sudden terror that his whole being was becoming absorbed by an intense +passion for the girl. + +Meantime the Baroness was growing embarrassing in her attentions. The +young man was not conceited, nor prone to regard himself as an object of +worship to the fair sex. He had during the first few months believed the +Baroness to be amusing herself with his society. He had not flattered +himself that a woman of her age, who had seen so much of the world, and +whose ambitions were so unmistakable, could regard him otherwise than as +a diversion. + +But of late the truth had forced itself upon him that the woman wished to +entangle him in a serious affair. He could not afford to jeopardise his +reputation at the very outset of his career by any such entanglement, or +by the appearance of one. He cast about for some excuse to leave the +Palace, yet this would separate him in a measure from his association +with Berene, beside incurring the enmity of the Baroness, and possibly +causing Berene to suffer from her anger as well. + +He seemed to be caught like a fly in a net. And again the thought of his +future and his ambitions confronted him, and he felt abashed in his own +eyes, as he realised how far away these ambitions had seemed of late, +since he had allowed his emotions to overrule his brain. + +What was this ignorant daughter of a French professor, that she should +stand between him and glory, riches and power? Desperate diseases needed +desperate remedies. He had been an occasional caller at the Lawrence +homestead ever since he came to Beryngford. Without being conceited on +the subject, he realised that Mabel Lawrence would not reject him as a +suitor. + +The masculine party is very dull, or the feminine very deceptive, when a +man makes a mistake in his impressions on this subject. + +That afternoon the young editor left his office at five o’clock and asked +Miss Lawrence to be his wife. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +PRESTON CHENEY walked briskly down the street after he left his fiancée, +his steps directed toward the Palace. It was seven o’clock, and he knew +the Baroness would be at home. + +He had determined upon heroic treatment for his own mental disease (as he +regarded his peculiar sentiments toward Berene Dumont), and he had +decided upon a similar course of treatment for the Baroness. + +He would confide his engagement to her at once, and thus put an end to +his embarrassing position in the Palace, as well as to establish his +betrothal as a fact—and to force himself to so regard it. It was strange +reasoning for a young man in the very first hour of his new rôle of +bridegroom elect, but this particular groom elect had deliberately placed +himself in a peculiar position, and his reasoning was not, of course, +that of an ardent and happy lover. + +Already he was galled by his new fetters; already he was feeling a sense +of repulsion toward the woman he had asked to be his wife: and because of +these feelings he was more eager to nail himself hand and foot to the +cross he had builded. + +He was obliged to wait some time before the Baroness came into the +reception-room; and when she came he observed that she had made an +elaborate toilet in his honour. Her sumptuous shoulders billowed over +the low-cut blue corsage like apple-dumplings over a china dish. Her +waist was drawn in to an hourglass taper, while her ample hips spread out +beneath like the heavy mason work which supports a slender column. Tiny +feet encased in pretty slippers peeping from beneath her silken skirts +looked oddly out of proportion with the rest of her generous personality, +and reminded Preston of the grotesque cuts in the humorous weeklies, +where well-known politicians were represented with large heads and small +extremities. Artistic by nature, and with an eye to form, he had never +admired the Baroness’s type of beauty, which was the theme of admiration +for nearly every other man in Beryngford. Her face, with its infantine +colouring, its large, innocent azure eyes, and its short retroussé +features, he conceded to be captivatingly pretty, however, and it seemed +unusually so this evening. Perhaps because he had so recently looked +upon the sharp, sallow face of his fiancée. + +Preston frequently came to his room about this hour, after having dined +and before going to the office for his final duties; but he seldom saw +the Baroness on these occasions, unless through her own design. + +“You were surprised to receive my message, no doubt, saying I wished to +see you,” he began. “But I have something I feel I ought to tell you, as +it may make some changes in my habits, and will of course eventually take +me away from these pleasant associations.” He paused for a second, and +the Baroness, who had seated herself on the divan at his side, leaned +forward and looked inquiringly in his face. + +“You are going away?” she asked, with a tremor in her voice. “Is it not +very sudden?” + +“No, I am not going away,” he replied, “not from Beryngford—but I shall +doubtless leave your house ere many months. I am engaged to be married +to Miss Mabel Lawrence. You are the first person to whom I have imparted +the news, but you have been so kind, and I feel that you ought to know it +in time to secure a desirable tenant for my room.” + +Again there was a pause. The rosy face of the Baroness had grown quite +pale, and an unpleasant expression had settled about the corners of her +small mouth. She waved a feather fan to and fro languidly. Then she +gave a slight laugh and said: + +“Well, I must confess that I am surprised. Miss Lawrence is the last +woman in the world whom I would have imagined you to select as a wife. +Yet I congratulate you on your good sense. You are very ambitious, and +you can rise to great distinction if you have the right influence to aid +you. Judge Lawrence, with his wealth and position, is of all men the one +who can advance your interests, and what more natural than that he should +advance the interests of his son-in-law? You are a very wise youth and I +again congratulate you. No romantic folly will ever ruin your life.” + +There was irony and ridicule in her voice and face, and the young man +felt his cheek tingle with anger and humiliation. The Baroness had read +him like an open book—as everyone else doubtless would do. It was +bitterly galling to his pride, but there was nothing to do, save to keep +a bold front, and carry out his rôle with as much dignity as possible. + +He rose, spoke a few formal words of thanks to the Baroness for her +kindness to him, and bowed himself from her presence, carrying with him +down the street the memory of her mocking eyes. + +As he entered his private office, he was amazed to see Berene Dumont +sitting in his chair fast asleep, her head framed by her folded arms, +which rested on his desk. Against the dark maroon of her sleeve, her +classic face was outlined like a marble statuette. Her long lashes swept +her cheek, and in the attitude in which she sat, her graceful, +perfectly-proportioned figure displayed each beautiful curve to the best +advantage. + +To a noble nature, the sight of even an enemy asleep, awakes softening +emotions, while the sight of a loved being in the unconsciousness of +slumber stirs the fountain of affection to its very depths. + +As the young editor looked upon the girl before him, a passion of +yearning love took possession of him. A wild desire to seize her in his +arms and cover her pale face with kisses, made his heart throb to +suffocation and brought cold beads to his brow; and just as these +feelings gained an almost uncontrollable dominion over his reason, will +and judgment, the girl awoke and started to her feet in confusion. + +“Oh, Mr Cheney, pray forgive me!” she cried, looking more beautiful than +ever with the flush which overspread her face. “I came in to ask about a +word in your editorial which I could not decipher. I waited for you, as +I felt sure you would be in shortly—and I was so _tired_ I sat down for +just a second to rest—and that is all I knew about it. You must forgive +me, sir!—I did not mean to intrude.” + +Her confusion, her appealing eyes, her magnetic voice were all fuel to +the fire raging in the young man’s heart. Now that she was for ever lost +to him through his own deliberate action, she seemed tenfold more dear +and to be desired. Brain, soul, and body all seemed to crave her; he +took a step forward, and drew in a quick breath as if to speak; and then +a sudden sense of his own danger, and an overwhelming disgust for his +weakness swept over him, and the intense passion the girl had aroused in +his heart changed to unreasonable anger. + +“Miss Dumont,” he said coldly, “I think we will have to dispense with +your services after to-night. Your duties are evidently too hard for +you. You can leave the office at any time you wish. Good-night.” + +The girl shrank as if he had struck her, looked up at him with wide, +wondering eyes, waited for a moment as if expecting to be recalled, then, +as Mr Cheney wheeled his chair about and turned his back upon her, she +suddenly sped away without a word. + +She left the office a few moments later; but it was not until after +eleven o’clock that she dragged herself up two flights of stairs toward +her room on the attic floor at the Palace. She had been walking the +streets like a mad creature all that intervening time, trying to still +the agonising pain in her heart. Preston Cheney had long been her ideal +of all that was noble, grand and good, she worshipped him as devout +pagans worshipped their sacred idols; and, without knowing it, she gave +him the absorbing passion which an intense woman gives to her lover. + +It was only now that he had treated her with such rough brutality, and +discharged her from his employ for so slight a cause, that the knowledge +burst upon her tortured heart of all he was to her. + +She paused at the foot of the third and last flight of stairs with a +strange dizziness in her head and a sinking sensation at her heart. + +A little less than half-an-hour afterwards Preston Cheney unlocked the +street door and came in for the night. He had done double his usual +amount of work and had finished his duties earlier than usual. To avoid +thinking after he sent Berene away, he had turned to his desk and plunged +into his labour with feverish intensity. He wrote a particularly savage +editorial on the matter of over-immigration, and his leaders on political +questions of the day were all tinctured with a bitterness and sarcasm +quite new to his pen. At midnight that pen dropped from his nerveless +hand, and he made his way toward the Palace in a most unenviable state of +mind and body. + +Yet he believed he had done the right thing both in engaging himself to +Miss Lawrence and in discharging Berene. Her constant presence about the +office was of all things the most undesirable in his new position. + +“But I might have done it in a decent manner if I had not lost all +control of myself,” he said as he walked home. “It was brutal the way I +spoke to her; poor child, she looked as if I had beat her with a +bludgeon. Well, it is just as well perhaps that I gave her good reason +to despise me.” + +Since Berene had gone into the young man’s office as an employé her good +taste and another reason had caused her to avoid him as much as possible +in the house. He seldom saw more than a passing glimpse of her in the +halls, and frequently whole days elapsed that he met her only in the +office. The young man never suspected that this fact was due in great +part to the suggestion of jealousy in the manner of the Baroness toward +the young girl ever after he had shown so much interest in her welfare. +Sensitive to the mental atmosphere about her, as a wind harp to the +lightest breeze, Berene felt this unexpressed sentiment in the breast of +her “benefactress” and strove to avoid anything which could aggravate it. + +With a lagging step and a listless air, Preston made his way up the first +of two flights of stairs which intervened between the street door and his +room. The first floor was in darkness; but in the upper hall a dim light +was always left burning until his return. As he reached the landing, he +was startled to see a woman’s form lying at the foot of the attic stairs, +but a few feet from the door of his room. Stooping down, he uttered a +sudden exclamation of pained surprise, for it was upon the pallid, +unconscious face of Berene Dumont that his eyes fell. He lifted the +lithe figure in his sinewy arms, and with light, rapid steps bore her up +the stairs and in through the open door of her room. + +“If she is dead, I am her murderer,” he thought. But at that moment she +opened her eyes and looked full into his, with a gaze which made his +impetuous, uncontrolled heart forget that any one or anything existed on +earth but this girl and his love for her. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +ONE of the greatest factors in the preservation of the Baroness’s beauty +had been her ability to sleep under all conditions. The woman who can +and does sleep eight or nine hours out of each twenty-four is well armed +against the onslaught of time and trouble. + +To say that such women do not possess heart enough or feeling enough to +suffer is ofttimes most untrue. + +Insomnia is a disease of the nerves or of the stomach, rather than the +result of extreme emotion. Sometimes the people who sleep the most +profoundly at night in times of sorrow, suffer the more intensely during +their waking hours. Disguised as a friend, deceitful Slumber comes to +them only to strengthen their powers of suffering, and to lend a new edge +to pain. + +The Baroness was not without feeling. Her temperament was far from +phlegmatic. She had experienced great cyclones of grief and loss in her +varied career, though many years had elapsed since she had known what the +French call a “white night.” + +But the night following her interview with Preston Cheney she never +closed her eyes in sleep. It was in vain that she tried all known +recipes for producing slumber. She said the alphabet backward ten times; +she counted one thousand; she conjured up visions of sheep jumping the +time-honoured fence in battalions, yet the sleep god never once drew +near. + +“I am certainly a brilliant illustration of the saying that there is no +fool like an old fool,” she said to herself as the night wore on, and the +strange sensation of pain and loss which Preston Cheney’s unexpected +announcement had caused her gnawed at her breast like a rat in a +wainscot. + +That she had been unusually interested in the young editor she knew from +the first; that she had been mortally wounded by Cupid’s shaft she only +now discovered. She had passed through a divorce, two “affairs” and a +legitimate widowhood, without feeling any of the keen emotions which now +drove sleep from her eyes. A long time ago, longer than she cared to +remember, she had experienced such emotions, but she had supposed such +folly only possible in the high tide of early youth. It was absurd, nay +more, it was ridiculous to lie awake at her time of life thinking about a +penniless country youth whose mother she might almost have been. In this +bitterly frank fashion the Baroness reasoned with herself as she lay +quite still in her luxurious bed, and tried to sleep. + +Yet despite her frankness, her philosophy and her reasoning, the rasping +hurt at her heart remained—a hurt so cruel it seemed to her the end of +all peace or pleasure in life. + +It is harder to bear the suffocating heat of a late September day which +the year sometimes brings, than all the burning June suns. + +The Baroness heard the click of Preston’s key in the street door, and she +listened to his slow step as he ascended the stairs. She heard him +pause, too, and waited for the sound of the opening of his room door, +which was situated exactly above her own. But she listened in vain, her +ears, brain and heart on the alert with surprise, curiosity, and at last +suspicion. The Baroness was as full of curiosity as a cat. + +It was not until just before dawn that she heard his step in the hall, +and his door open and close. + +An hour later a sharp ring came at the street door bell. A message for +Mr Preston, the servant said, in answer to her mistress’s question as she +descended from the room above. + +“Was Mr Preston awake when you rapped on his door?” asked the Baroness. + +“Yes, madame, awake and dressed.” + +Mr Preston ran hurriedly through the halls and out to the street a moment +later; and the Baroness, clothed in a dressing-gown and silken slippers, +tiptoed lightly to his room. The bed had not been occupied the whole +night. On the table lay a note which the young man had begun when +interrupted by the message which he had thrown down beside it. + +The Baroness glanced at the note, on which the ink was still moist, and +read, “My dear Miss Lawrence, I want you to release me from the ties +formed only yesterday—I am basely unworthy—” here the note ended. She +now turned her attention to the message which had prevented the +completion of the letter. It was signed by Judge Lawrence and ran as +follows:— + + “MY DEAR BOY,—My wife was taken mortally ill this morning just before + daybreak. She cannot live many hours, our physician says. Mabel is + in a state of complete nervous prostration caused by the shock of + this calamity. I wish you would come to us at once. I fear for my + dear child’s reason unless you prove able to calm and quiet her + through this ordeal. Hasten then, my dear son; every moment before + you arrive will seem an age of sorrow and anxiety to me. + + “S. LAWRENCE.” + +A strange smile curved the corners of the Baroness’s lips as she finished +reading this note and tiptoed down the stairs to her own room again. + +Meantime the hour for her hot water arrived, and Berene did not appear. +The Baroness drank a quart of hot water every morning as a tonic for her +system, and another quart after breakfast to reduce her flesh. Her +excellent digestive powers and the clear condition of her blood she +attributed largely to this habit. + +After a few moments she rang the bell vigorously. Maggie, the +chambermaid, came in answer to the call. + +“Please ask Miss Dumont” (Berene was always known to the other servants +as Miss Dumont) “to hurry with the hot water,” the Baroness said. + +“Miss Dumont has not yet come downstairs, madame.” + +“Not come down? Then will you please call her, Maggie?” + +The Baroness was always polite to her servants. She had observed that a +graciousness of speech toward her servants often made up for a deficiency +in wages. Maggie ascended to Miss Dumont’s room, and returned with the +information that Miss Dumont had a severe headache, and begged the +indulgence of madame this morning. + +Again that strange smile curved the corners of the Baroness’s lips. + +Maggie was requested to bring up hot water and coffee, and great was her +surprise to find the Baroness moving about the room when she appeared +with the tray. + +Half-an-hour later Berene Dumont, standing by an open window with her +hands clasped behind her head, heard a light tap on her door. In answer +to a mechanical “Come,” the Baroness appeared. + +The rustle of her silken morning gown caused Berene to turn suddenly and +face her; and as she met the eyes of her visitor the young woman’s pallor +gave place to a wave of deep crimson, which dyed her face and neck like +the shadow of a red flag falling on a camellia blossom. + +“Maggie tells me you are ill this morning,” the Baroness remarked after a +moment’s silence. “I am surprised to find you up and dressed. I came to +see if I could do anything for you.” + +“You are very kind,” Berene answered, while in her heart she thought how +cruel was the expression in the face of the woman before her, and how +faded she appeared in the morning light. “But I think I shall be quite +well in a little while, I only need to keep quiet for a few hours.” + +“I fear you passed a sleepless night,” the Baroness remarked with a +solicitous tone, but with the same cruel smile upon her lips. “I see you +never opened your bed. Something must have been in the air to keep us +all awake. I did not sleep an hour, and Mr Cheney never entered his room +till near morning. Yet I can understand his wakefulness—he announced his +engagement to Miss Mabel Lawrence to me last evening, and a young man is +not expected to woo sleep easily after taking such an important step as +that. Judge Lawrence sent for him a few hours ago to come and support +Miss Mabel during the trial that the day is to bring them in the death of +Mrs Lawrence. The physician has predicted the poor invalid’s near end. +Sorrow follows close on joy in this life.” + +There was a moment’s silence; then Miss Dumont said: “I think I will try +to get a little sleep now, madame. I thank you for your kind interest in +me.” + +The Baroness descended to her room humming an air from an old opera, and +settled to the task of removing as much as possible all evidences of +fatigue and sleeplessness from her countenance. + +It has been said very prettily of the spruce-tree, that it keeps the +secret of its greenness well; so well that we hardly know when it sheds +its leaves. There are women who resemble the spruce in their perennial +youth, and the vigilance with which they guard the secret of it. The +Baroness was one of these. Only her mirror shared this secret. + +She was an adept at the art of preservation, and greatly as she disliked +physical exertion, she toiled laboriously over her own person an hour at +least every day, and never employed a maid to assist her. One’s rival +might buy one’s maid, she reasoned, and it was well to have no confidant +in these matters. + +She slipped off her dressing-gown and corset and set herself to the task +of pinching and mauling her throat, arms and shoulders, to remove +superfluous flesh, and strengthen muscles and fibres to resist the flabby +tendencies which time produces. Then she used the dumb-bells vigorously +for fifteen minutes, and that was followed by five minutes of relaxation. +Next she lay on the floor flat upon her face, her arms across her back, +and lifted her head and chest twenty-five times. This exercise was to +replace flesh with muscle across the abdomen. Then she rose to her feet, +set her small heels together, turned her toes out squarely, and, keeping +her body upright bent her knees out in a line with her hips, sinking and +rising rapidly fifteen times. This produced pliancy of the body, and +induced a healthy condition of the loins and adjacent organs. + +To further fight against the deadly enemy of obesity, she lifted her arms +above her head slowly until she touched her finger tips, at the same time +rising upon her tiptoes, while she inhaled a long breath, and as slowly +dropped to her heels, and lowered her arms while she exhaled her breath. +While these exercises had been taking place, a tin cup of water had been +coming to the boiling point over an alcohol lamp. This was now poured +into a china bowl containing a small quantity of sweet milk, which was +always brought on her breakfast tray. + +The Baroness seated herself before her mirror, in a glare of cruel light +which revealed every blemish in her complexion, every line about the +mouth and eyes. + +“You are really hideously passée, mon amie,” she observed as she peered +at herself searchingly; “but we will remedy all that.” + +Dipping a soft linen handkerchief in the bowl of steaming milk and water, +she applied it to her face, holding it closely over the brow and eyes and +about the mouth, until every pore was saturated and every weary drawn +tissue fed and strengthened by the tonic. After this she dashed ice-cold +water over her face. Still there were little folds at the corners of the +eyelids, and an ugly line across the brow, and these were manipulated +with painstaking care, and treated with mysterious oils and fragrant +astringents and finally washed in cool toilet water and lightly brushed +with powder, until at the end of an hour’s labour, the face of the +Baroness had resumed its roseleaf bloom and transparent smoothness for +which she was so famous. And when by the closest inspection at the +mirror, in the broadest light, she saw no flaw in skin, hair, or teeth, +the Baroness proceeded to dress for a drive. Even the most jealous rival +would have been obliged to concede that she looked like a woman of +twenty-eight, that most fascinating of all ages, as she took her seat in +the carriage. + +In the early days of her life in Beryngford, when as the Baroness Le +Fevre she had led society in the little town, Mrs Lawrence had been one +of her most devoted friends; Judge Lawrence one of her most earnest, if +silent admirers. As “Baroness Brown” and as the landlady of “The Palace” +she had still maintained her position as friend of the family, and the +Lawrences, secure in their wealth and power, had allowed her to do so, +where some of the lower social lights had dropped her from their visiting +lists. + +The Baroness seemed to exercise a sort of hypnotic power over the +fretful, nervous invalid who shared Judge Lawrence’s name, and this +influence was not wholly lost upon the Judge himself, who never looked +upon the Baroness’s abundant charms, glowing with health, without giving +vent to a profound sigh like some hungry child standing before a +confectioner’s window. + +The news of Mrs Lawrence’s dangerous illness was voiced about the town by +noon, and therefore the Baroness felt safe in calling at the door to make +inquiries, and to offer any assistance which she might be able to render. +Knowing her intimate relations with the mistress of the house, the +servant admitted her to the parlour and announced her presence to Judge +Lawrence, who left the bedside of the invalid to tell the caller in +person that Mrs Lawrence had fallen into a peaceful slumber, and that +slight hopes were entertained of her possible recovery. Scarcely had the +words passed his lips, however, when the nurse in attendance hurriedly +called him. “Mrs Lawrence is dead!” she cried. “She breathed only twice +after you left the room.” + +The Baroness, shocked and startled, rose to go, feeling that her presence +longer would be an intrusion. + +“Do not go,” cried the Judge in tones of distress. “Mabel is nearly +distracted, and this news will excite her still further. We thought this +morning that she was on the verge of serious mental disorder. I sent for +her fiancé, Mr Cheney, and he has calmed her somewhat. You always +exerted a soothing and restful influence over my wife, and you may have +the same power with Mabel. Stay with us, I beg of you, through the +afternoon at least.” + +The Baroness sent her carriage home and remained in the Lawrence mansion +until the following morning. The condition of Miss Lawrence was indeed +serious. She passed from one attack of hysteria to another, and it +required the constant attention of her fiancé and her mother’s friend to +keep her from acts of violence. + +It was after midnight when she at last fell asleep, and Preston Cheney in +a state of complete exhaustion was shown to a room, while the Baroness +remained at the bedside of Miss Lawrence. + +When the Baroness and Mr Cheney returned to the Palace they were struck +with consternation to learn that Miss Dumont had packed her trunk and +departed from Beryngford on the three o’clock train the previous day. + +A brief note thanking the Baroness for her kindness, and stating that she +had imposed upon that kindness quite too long, was her only farewell. +There was no allusion to her plans or her destination, and all inquiry +and secret search failed to find one trace of her. She seemed to vanish +like a phantom from the face of the earth. + +No one had seen her leave the Palace, save the laundress, Mrs Connor; and +little this humble personage dreamed that Fate was reserving for her an +important rôle in the drama of a life as yet unborn. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +WHATEVER hope of escape from his self-imposed bondage Preston Cheney had +entertained when he began the note to his fiancée which the Baroness had +read, completely vanished during the weeks which followed the death of +Mrs Lawrence. + +Mabel’s nervous condition was alarming, and her father seemed to rely +wholly upon his future son-in-law for courage and moral support during +the trying ordeal. Like most large men of strong physique, Judge +Lawrence was as helpless as an infant in the presence of an ailing woman; +and his experience as the husband of a wife whose nerves were the only +notable thing about her, had given him an absolute terror of feminine +invalids. + +Mabel had never been very fond of her mother; she had not been a loving +or a dutiful daughter. A petulant child and an irritable, fault-finding +young woman, who had often been devoid of sympathy for her parents, she +now exhibited such an excess of grief over the death of her mother that +her reason seemed to be threatened. + +It was, in fact, quite as much anger as grief which caused her nervous +paroxysms. Mabel Lawrence had never since her infancy known what it was +to be thwarted in a wish. Both parents had been slaves to her slightest +caprice and she had ruled the household with a look or a word. Death had +suddenly deprived her of a mother who was necessary to her comfort and to +whose presence she was accustomed, and her heart was full of angry +resentment at the fate which had dared to take away a member of her +household. It had never entered her thoughts that death could devastate +_her_ home. + +Other people lost fathers and mothers, of course; but that Mabel Lawrence +could be deprived of a parent seemed incredible. Anger is a strong +ingredient in the excessive grief of every selfish nature. + +Preston Cheney became more and more disheartened with the prospect of his +future, as he studied the character and temperament of his fiancée during +her first weeks of loss. + +But the net which he had woven was closing closer and closer about him, +and every day he became more hopelessly entangled in its meshes. + +At the end of one month, the family physician decided that travel and +change of air and scene was an imperative necessity for Miss Lawrence. +Judge Lawrence was engaged in some important legal matters which rendered +an extended journey impossible for him. To trust Mabel in the hands of +hired nurses alone, was not advisable. It was her father who suggested +an early marriage and a European trip for bride and groom, as the wisest +expedient under the circumstances. + +Like the prisoner in the iron room, who saw the walls slowly but surely +closing in to crush out his life, Preston Cheney saw his wedding day +approaching, and knew that his doom was sealed. + +There were many desperate hours, when, had he possessed the slightest +clue to the hiding-place of Berene Dumont, he would have flown to her, +even knowing that he left disgrace and death behind him. He realised +that he now owed a duty to the girl he loved, higher and more imperative +by far than any he owed to his fiancée. But he had not the means to +employ a detective to find Berene; and he was not sure that, if found, +she might not spurn him. He had heard and read of cases where a woman’s +love had turned to bitter loathing and hatred for the man who had not +protected her in a moment of weakness. He could think of no other cause +which would lead Berene to disappear in such a mysterious manner at such +a time, and so the days passed and he married Mabel Lawrence two months +after the death of her mother, and the young couple set forth immediately +on extended foreign travels. Fifteen months later they returned to +Beryngford with their infant daughter Alice. Mrs Cheney was much +improved in health, though still a great sufferer from nervous disorders, +a misfortune which the child seemed to inherit. She would lie and scream +for hours at a time, clenching her small fists and growing purple in the +face, and all efforts of parents, nurses or physicians to soothe her, +served only to further increase her frenzy. She screamed and beat the +air with her thin arms and legs until nature exhausted itself, then she +fell into a heavy slumber and awoke in good spirits. + +These attacks came on frequently in the night, and as they rendered Mrs +Cheney very “nervous,” and caused a panic among the nurses, it devolved +upon the unhappy father to endeavour to soothe the violent child. And +while he walked the floor with her or leaned over her crib, using all his +strong mental powers to control these unfortunate paroxysms, no vision +came to him of another child lying cuddled in her mother’s arms in a +distant town, a child of wonderful beauty and angelic nature, born of +love, and inheriting love’s divine qualities. + +A few months before the young couple returned to their native soil, they +received a letter which caused Preston the greatest astonishment, and +Mabel some hours of hysterical weeping. This letter was written by Judge +Lawrence, and announced his marriage to Baroness Brown. Judge Lawrence +had been a widower more than a year when the Baroness took the book of +his heart, in which he supposed the hand of romance had long ago written +“finis,” and turning it to his astonished eyes revealed a whole volume of +love’s love. + +It is in the second reading of their hearts that the majority of men find +the most interesting literature. + +Before the Baroness had been three months his wife, the long years of +martyrdom he had endured as the husband of Mabel’s mother seemed like a +nightmare dream to Judge Lawrence; and all of life, hope and happiness +was embodied in the woman who ruled his destiny with a hypnotic sway no +one could dispute, yet a woman whose heart still throbbed with a stubborn +and lawless passion for the man who called her husband father. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +MORE than two decades had passed since Preston Cheney followed the +dictates of his ambition and married Mabel Lawrence. + +Many of his early hopes and desires had been realised during these years. +He had attained to high political positions; and honour and wealth were +his to enjoy. Yet Senator Cheney, as he was now known, was far from a +happy man. Disappointment was written in every lineament of his face, +restlessness and discontent spoke in his every movement, and at times the +spirit of despair seemed to look from the depths of his eyes. + +To a man of any nobility of nature, there can be small satisfaction in +honours which he knows are bought with money and bribes; and to the proud +young American there was the additional sting of knowing that even the +money by which his honours were purchased was not his own. + +It was the second Mrs Lawrence (still designated as the “Baroness” by her +stepdaughter and by old acquaintances) to whom Preston owed the constant +reminder of his dependence upon the purse of his father-in-law. In those +subtle, occult ways known only to a jealous and designing nature, the +Baroness found it possible to make Preston’s life a torture, without +revealing her weapons of warfare to her husband; indeed, without allowing +him to even smell the powder, while she still kept up a constant small +fire upon the helpless enemy. + +Owing to the fact that Mabel had come as completely under the hypnotic +influence of the Baroness as the first Mrs Lawrence had been during her +lifetime, Preston was subjected to a great deal more of her persecutions +than would otherwise have been possible. Mabel was never happier than +when enjoying the companionship of her new mother; a condition of things +which pleased the Judge as much as it made his son-in-law miserable. + +With a malicious adroitness possible only to such a woman as the second +Mrs Lawrence, she endeared herself to Mrs Cheney, by a thousand +flattering and caressing ways, and by a constant exhibition of sympathy, +which to a weak and selfish nature is as pleasing as it is distasteful to +the proud and strong. And by this inexhaustible flow of sympathetic +feeling, she caused the wife to drift farther and farther away from her +husband’s influence, and to accuse him of all manner of shortcomings and +faults which had not suggested themselves to her own mind. + +Mabel had not given or demanded a devoted love when she married Preston +Cheney. She was quite satisfied to bear his name, and do the honours of +his house, and to be let alone as much as possible. It was the name, not +the estate, of wifehood she desired; and motherhood she had accepted with +reluctance and distaste. + +Never was a more undesired or unwelcome child born than her daughter +Alice, and the helpless infant shared with its father the resentful anger +which dominated her unwilling mother the wretched months before its +advent into earth life. + +To be let alone and allowed to follow her own whims and desires, and +never to be crossed in any wish, was all Mrs Cheney asked of her husband. + +This rôle was one he had very willingly permitted her to pursue, since +with every passing week and month he found less and less to win or bind +him to his wife. Wretched as this condition of life was, it might at +least have settled into a monotonous calm, undisturbed by strife, but for +the molesting “sympathy” of the Baroness. + +“Poor thing, here you are alone again,” she would say on entering the +house where Mabel lounged or lolled, quite content with her situation +until the tone and words of her stepmother aroused a resentful +consciousness of being neglected. Again the Baroness would say: + +“I do think you are such a brave little darling to carry so smiling a +face about with all you have to endure.” Or, “Very few wives would bear +what you bear and hide every vestige of unhappiness from the world. You +are a wonderful and admirable character in my eyes.” Or, “It seems so +strange that your husband does not adore you—but men are blind to the +best qualities in women like you. I never hear Mr Cheney praising other +women without a sad and almost resentful feeling in my heart, realising +how superior you are to all of his favourites.” It was the insidious +effect of poisoned flattery like this, which made the Baroness a ruling +power in the Cheney household, and at the same time turned an already +cold and unloving wife into a jealous and nagging tyrant who rendered the +young statesman’s home the most dreaded place on earth to him, and caused +him to live away from it as much as possible. + +His only child, Alice, a frail, hysterical girl, devoid of beauty or +grace, gave him but little comfort or satisfaction. Indeed she was but +an added disappointment and pain in his life. Indulged in every selfish +thought by her mother and the Baroness, peevish and petulant, always +ailing, complaining and discontented, and still a victim to the nervous +disorders inherited from her mother, it was small wonder that Senator +Cheney took no more delight in the rôle of father than he had found in +the rôle of husband. + +Alice was given every advantage which money could purchase. But her +delicate health had rendered systematic study of any kind impossible, and +her twentieth birthday found her with no education, with no use of her +reasoning or will powers, but with a complete and beautiful wardrobe in +which to masquerade and air her poor little attempts at music, art, or +conversation. + +Judge Lawrence died when Alice was fifteen years of age, leaving both his +widow and his daughter handsomely provided for. + +The Baroness not only possessed the Beryngford homestead, but a house in +Washington as well; and both of these were occupied by tenants, for Mabel +insisted upon having her stepmother dwell under her own roof. Senator +Cheney had purchased a house in New York to gratify his wife and +daughter, and it was here the family resided, when not in Washington or +at the seaside resorts. Both women wished to forget, and to make others +forget, that they had ever lived in Beryngford. They never visited the +place and never referred to it. They desired to be considered “New +Yorkers” and always spoke of themselves as such. + +The Baroness was now hopelessly passée. Yet it was the revealing of the +inner woman, rather than the withering of the exterior, which betrayed +her years. The woman who understands the art of bodily preservation can, +with constant toil and care, retain an appearance of youth and charm into +middle life; but she who would pass that dreaded meridian, and still +remain a goodly sight for the eyes of men, must possess, in addition to +all the secrets of the toilet, those divine elixirs, unselfishness and +love for humanity. Faith in divine powers, too, and resignation to +earthly ills, must do their part to lend the fading eye lustre and to +give a softening glow to the paling cheek. Before middle life, it is the +outer woman who is seen; after middle life, skilled as she may be by art +and however endowed my nature, yet the inner woman becomes visible to the +least discerning eye, and the thoughts and feelings which have dominated +her during all the past, are shown upon her face and form like printed +words upon the open leaves of a book. That is why so many young beauties +become ugly old ladies, and why plain faces sometimes are beautiful in +age. + +The Baroness had been unremitting in the care of her person, and she had +by this toil saved her figure from becoming gross, retaining the upright +carriage and the tapering waist of youth, though she was upon the verge +of her sixtieth birthday. Her complexion, too, owing to her careful +diet, her hours of repose, and her knowledge of skin foods and lotions, +remained smooth, fair and unfurrowed. But the long-guarded expression in +her blue eyes of childlike innocence had given place to the hard look of +a selfish and unhappy nature, and the lines about the small mouth +accented the expression of the eyes. + +It was, despite its preservation of Nature’s gifts, and despite its +forced smiles, the face of a selfish, cruel pessimist, disappointed in +her past and with no uplifting faith to brighten the future. + +The Baroness had been the wife of Judge Lawrence a number of years, +before she relinquished her hopes of one day making Preston Cheney +respond to the passion which burned unquenched in her breast. It had +been with the idea of augmenting the interests of the man whom she +believed to be her future lover, that she aided and urged on her husband +in his efforts to procure place and honour for his son-in-law. + +It was this idea which caused her to widen the breach between wife and +husband by every subtle means in her power; and it was when this idea +began to lose colour and substance and drop away among the wreckage of +past hopes, that the Baroness ceased to compliment and began to taunt +Preston Cheney with his dependence upon his father-in-law, and to +otherwise goad and torment the unhappy man. And Preston Cheney grew into +the habit of staying anywhere longer than at home. + +During the last ten years the Baroness had seemed to abandon all thoughts +of gallant adventure. When the woman who has found life and pleasures +only in coquetry and conquest is forced to relinquish these delights, she +becomes either very devout or very malicious. + +The Baroness was devoid of religious feelings, and she became, therefore, +the most bitter and caustic of cynical critics at heart, though she +guarded her expression of these sentiments from policy. + +Yet to Mabel she expressed herself freely, knowing that her listener +enjoyed no conversation so much as that of gossip and criticism. A +beautiful or attractive woman was the target for her most cruel shafts of +sarcasm, and indeed no woman was safe from her secret malice save Mabel +and Alice, over whom she found it a greater pleasure to exercise her +hypnotic control. For Alice, indeed, the Baroness entertained a peculiar +affection. The fact that she was the child of the man to whom she had +given the strongest passion of her life, and the girl’s lack of personal +beauty, and her unfortunate physical condition, awoke a medley of love, +pity and protection in the heart of this strange woman. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +THE Baroness had always been a churchgoing woman, yet she had never +united with any church, or subscribed to any creed. + +Religious observance was only an implement of social warfare with her. +Wherever her lot was cast, she made it her business to discover which +church the fashionable people of the town frequented, and to become a +familiar and liberal-handed personage in that edifice. + +Judge Lawrence and his family were High Church Episcopalians, and the +second Mrs Lawrence slipped gracefully into the pew vacated by the first, +and became a much more important feature in the congregation, owing to +her good health and extreme desire for popularity. Mabel and Alice were +devout believers in the orthodox dogmas which have taken the place of the +simple teachings of Christ in so many of our churches to-day. They +believed that people who did not go to church would stand a very poor +chance of heaven; and that a strict observance of a Sunday religion would +ensure them a passport into God’s favour. When they returned from divine +service and mangled the character and attire of their neighbours over the +Sunday dinner-table, no idea entered their heads or hearts that they had +sinned against the Holy Ghost. The pastor of their church knew them to +be selfish, worldly-minded women; yet he administered the holy sacrament +to them without compunction of conscience, and never by question or +remark implied a doubt of their true sincerity in things religious. They +believed in the creed of his church, and they paid liberally for the +support of that church. What more could he ask? + +This had been true of the pastor in Beryngford, and it proved equally +true of their spiritual adviser in Washington and in New York. + +Just across the aisle from the Lawrences sat a rich financier, in his +sumptuously cushioned pew. During six days of each week he was engaged +in crushing life and hope out of the hearts of the poor, under his +juggernaut wheels of monopoly. His name was known far and near, as that +of a powerful and cruel speculator, who did not hesitate to pauperise his +nearest friends if they placed themselves in his reach. That he was a +thief and a robber, no one ever denied; yet so colossal were his thefts, +so bold and successful his robberies, the public gazed upon him with a +sort of stupefied awe, and allowed him to proceed, while miserable +tramps, who stole overcoats or robbed money drawers, were incarcerated +for a term of years, and then sternly refused assistance afterward by +good people, who place no confidence in jail birds. + +But each Sunday this successful robber occupied his high-priced church +pew, devoutly listening to the divine word. + +He never failed to partake of the holy communion, nor was his right to do +so ever questioned. + +The rector of the church knew his record perfectly; knew that his gains +were ill-gotten blood money, ground from the suffering poor by the power +of monopoly, and from confiding fools by smart lures and scheming tricks. +But this young clergyman, having recently been called to preside over the +fashionable church, had no idea of being so impolite as to refuse to +administer the bread and wine to one of its most liberal supporters! + +There were constant demands upon the treasury of the church; it required +a vast outlay of money to maintain the splendour and elegance of the +temple which held its head so high above many others; and there were +large charities to be sustained, not to mention its rector’s princely +salary. The millionaire pewholder was a liberal giver. It rarely occurs +to the fashionable dispensers of spiritual knowledge to ask whether the +devil’s money should be used to gild the Lord’s temple; nor to question +if it be a wise religion which allows a man to rob his neighbours on +weekdays, to give to the cause of charity on Sundays. + +And yet if every clergyman and priest in the land were to make and +maintain these standards for their followers, there might be an +astonishing decrease in the needs of the poor and unfortunate. + +Were every church member obliged to open his month’s ledgers to a +competent jury of inspectors, before he was allowed to take the holy +sacrament and avow himself a humble follower of Christ, what a revolution +might ensue! How church spires would crumble for lack of support, and +poorhouses lessen in number for lack of inmates! + +But the leniency of clergymen toward the shortcomings of their wealthy +parishioners is often a touching lesson in charity to the thoughtful +observer who stands outside the fold. + +For how could they obtain money to convert the heathen, unless this sweet +cloak of charity were cast over the sins of the liberal rich? Christ is +crucified by the fashionable clergymen to-day more cruelly than he was by +the Jews of old. + +Senator Cheney was not a church member, and he seldom attended service. +This was a matter of great solicitude to his wife and daughter. The +Baroness felt it to be a mistake on the part of Senator Cheney, and even +Judge Lawrence, who adored his son-in-law, regretted the young man’s +indifference to things spiritual. But with all Preston Cheney’s worldly +ambitions and weaknesses, there was a vein of sincerity in his nature +which forbade his feigning a faith he did not feel; and the daily lives +of the three feminine members of his family were so in disaccord with his +views of religion that he felt no incentive to follow in their footsteps. +Judge Lawrence he knew to be an honest, loyal-hearted, God and humanity +loving man. “A true Christian by nature and education,” he said of his +father-in-law, “but I am not born with his tendency to religious +observance, and I see less and less in the churches to lead me into the +fold. It seems to me that these religious institutions are getting to be +vast monopolistic corporations like the railroads and oil trusts, and the +like. I see very little of the spirit of Christ in orthodox people +to-day.” + +Meanwhile Senator Cheney’s purse was always open to any demand the church +made; he believed in churches as benevolent if not soul-saving +institutions, and cheerfully aided their charitable work. + +The rector of St Blank’s, the fashionable edifice where the ladies of the +Cheney household obtained spiritual manna in New York, died when Alice +was sixteen years old. He was a good old man, and a sincere +Episcopalian, and whatever originality of thought or expression he may +have lacked, his strict observance of the High Church code of ethics +maintained the tone of his church and rendered him an object of reverence +to his congregation. His successor was Reverend Arthur Emerson Stuart, a +young man barely thirty years of age, heir to a comfortable fortune, +gifted with strong intellectual powers and dowered with physical +attractions. + +It was not a case of natural selection which caused Arthur Stuart to +adopt the church as a profession. It was the result of his middle name. +Mrs Stuart had been an Emerson—in some remote way her family claimed +relationship with Ralph Waldo. Her father and grandfather and several +uncles had been clergymen. She married a broker, who left her a rich +widow with one child, a son. From the hour this son was born his mother +designed him for the clergy, and brought him up with the idea firmly +while gently fixed in his mind. + +Whatever seed a mother plants in a young child’s mind, carefully watches +over, prunes and waters, and exposes to sun and shade, is quite certain +to grow, if the soil is not wholly stony ground. + +Arthur Stuart adored his mother, and stifling some commercial instincts +inherited from the parental side, he turned his attention to the ministry +and entered upon his chosen work when only twenty-five years of age. +Eloquent, dramatic in speech, handsome, and magnetic in person, +independent in fortune, and of excellent lineage on the mother’s side, it +was not surprising that he was called to take charge of the spiritual +welfare of fashionable St Blank’s Church on the death of the old pastor; +or that, having taken the charge, he became immensely popular, especially +with the ladies of his congregation. And from the first Sabbath day when +they looked up from their expensive pew into the handsome face of their +new rector, there was but one man in the world for Mabel Cheney and her +daughter Alice, and that was the Reverend Arthur Emerson Stuart. + +It has been said by a great and wise teacher, that we may worship the god +in the human being, but never the human being as God. This distinction +is rarely drawn by women, I fear, when their spiritual teacher is a young +and handsome man. The ladies of the Rev. Arthur Stuart’s congregation +went home to dream, not of the Creator and Maker of all things, nor of +the divine Man, but of the handsome face, stalwart form and magnetic +voice of the young rector. They feasted their eyes upon his agreeable +person, rather than their souls upon his words of salvation. +Disappointed wives, lonely spinsters and romantic girls believed they +were coming nearer to spiritual truths in their increased desire to +attend service, while in fact they were merely drawn nearer to a very +attractive male personality. + +There was not the holy flame in the young clergyman’s own heart to ignite +other souls; but his strong magnetism was perceptible to all, and they +did not realise the difference. And meantime the church grew and +prospered amazingly. + +It was observed by the congregation of St Blank’s Church, shortly after +the advent of the new rector, that a new organist also occupied the organ +loft; and inquiry elicited the fact that the old man who had officiated +in that capacity during many years, had been retired on a pension, while +a young lady who needed the position and the salary had been chosen to +fill the vacancy. + +That the change was for the better could not be questioned. Never before +had such music pealed forth under the tall spires of St Blank’s. The new +organist seemed inspired; and many people in the fashionable +congregation, hearing that this wonderful musician was a young woman, +lingered near the church door after service to catch a glimpse of her as +she descended from the loft. + +A goodly sight she was, indeed, for human eyes to gaze upon. Young, of +medium height and perfectly symmetry of shape, her blonde hair and satin +skin and eyes of velvet darkness were but her lesser charms. That which +riveted the gaze of every beholder, and drew all eyes to her whereever +she passed, was her air of radiant health and happiness, which emanated +from her like the perfume from a flower. + +A sad countenance may render a heroine of romance attractive in a book, +but in real life there is no charm at once so rare and so fascinating as +happiness. Did you ever think how few faces of the grown up, however +young, are really happy in expression? Discontent, restlessness, +longing, unsatisfied ambition or ill health mar ninety and nine of every +hundred faces we meet in the daily walks of life. When we look upon a +countenance which sparkles with health and absolute joy in life, we turn +and look again and yet again, charmed and fascinated, though we do not +know why. + +It was such a face that Joy Irving, the new organist of St Blank’s +Church, flashed upon the people who had lingered near the door to see her +pass out. Among those who lingered was the Baroness; and all day she +carried about with her the memory of that sparkling countenance; and +strive as she would, she could not drive away a vague, strange uneasiness +which the sight of that face had caused her. + +Yet a vision of youth and beauty always made the Baroness unhappy, now +that both blessings were irrevocably lost to her. + +This particular young face, however, stirred her with those half-painful, +half-pleasurable emotions which certain perfumes awake in us—vague +reminders of joys lost or unattained, of dreams broken or unrealised. +Added to this, it reminded her of someone she had known, yet she could +not place the resemblance. + +“Oh, to be young and beautiful like that!” she sighed as she buried her +face in her pillow that night. “And since I cannot be, if only Alice had +that girl’s face.” + +And because Alice did not have it, the Baroness went to sleep with a +feeling of bitter resentment against its possessor, the beautiful young +organist of St Blank’s. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +UP in the loft of St Blank’s Church the young organist had been +practising the whole morning. People paused on the street to listen to +the glorious sounds, and were thrilled by them, as one is only thrilled +when the strong personality of the player enters into the execution. + +Down into the committee-room, where several deacons and the young rector +were seated discussing some question pertaining to the well-being of the +church, the music penetrated too, causing the business which had brought +them together, to be suspended temporarily. + +“It is a sin to talk while music like that can be heard,” remarked one +man. “You have found a genius in this new organist, Rector.” + +The young man nodded silently, his eyes half closed with an expression of +somewhat sensuous enjoyment of the throbbing chords which vibrated in +perfect unison with the beating of his strong pulses. + +“Where does she come from?” asked the deacon, as a pause in the music +occurred. + +“Her father was an earnest and prominent member of the little church +down-town of which I had charge during several years,” replied the young +man. “Miss Irving was scarcely more than a child when she volunteered +her services as organist. The position brought her no remuneration, and +at that time she did not need it. Young as she was, the girl was one of +the most active workers among the poor, and I often met her in my visits +to the sick and unfortunate. She had been a musical prodigy from the +cradle, and Mr Irving had given her every advantage to study and perfect +her art. + +“I was naturally much interested in her. Mr Irving’s long illness left +his wife and daughter without means of support, at his death, and when I +was called to take charge of St Blank’s, I at once realised the benefit +to the family as well as to my church could I secure the young lady the +position here as organist. I am glad that my congregation seem so well +satisfied with my choice.” + +Again the organ pealed forth, this time in that passionate music +originally written for the Garden Scene in _Faust_, and which the church +has boldly taken and arranged as a quartette to the words, “Come unto +me.” + +It may be that to some who listen, it is the divine spirit which makes +its appeal through those stirring strains; but to the rector of St +Blank’s, at least on that morning, it was human heart, calling unto human +heart. Mr Stuart and the deacons sat silently drinking in the music. At +length the rector rose. “I think perhaps we had better drop the matter +under discussion for to-day,” he said. “We can meet here Monday evening +at five o’clock if agreeable to you all, and finish the details. There +are other and more important affairs waiting for me now.” + +The deacons departed, and the young rector sank back in his chair, and +gave himself up to the enjoyment of the sounds which flooded not only the +room, but his brain, heart and soul. + +“Queer,” he said to himself as the door closed behind the human pillars +of his church. “Queer, but I felt as if the presence of those men was an +intrusion upon something belonging personally to me. I wonder why I am +so peculiarly affected by this girl’s music? It arouses my brain to +action, it awakens ambition and gives me courage and hope, and yet—” He +paused before allowing his feeling to shape itself into thoughts. Then +closing his eyes and clasping his hands behind his head while the music +surged about him, he lay back in his easy-chair as a bather might lie +back and float upon the water, and his unfinished sentence took shape +thus: “And yet stronger than all other feelings which her music arouses +in me, is the desire to possess the musician for my very own for ever; +ah, well! the Roman Catholics are wise in not allowing their priests and +their nuns to listen to all even so-called sacred music.” + +It was perhaps ten minutes later that Joy Irving became conscious that +she was not alone in the organ loft. She had neither heard nor seen his +entrance, but she felt the presence of her rector, and turned to find him +silently watching her. She played her phrase to the end, before she +greeted him with other than a smile. Then she apologised, saying: “Even +one’s rector must wait for a musical phrase to reach its period. Angels +may interrupt the rendition of a great work, but not man. That were +sacrilege. You see, I was really praying, when you entered, though my +heart spoke through my fingers instead of my lips.” + +“You need not apologise,” the young man answered. “One who receives your +smile would be ungrateful indeed if he asked for more. That alone would +render the darkest spot radiant with light and welcome to me.” + +The girl’s pink cheek flushed crimson, like a rose bathed in the sunset +colours of the sky. + +“I did not think you were a man to coin pretty speeches,” she said. + +“Your estimate of me was a wise one. You read human nature correctly. +But come and walk in the park with me. You will overtax yourself if you +practise any longer. The sunlight and the air are vying with each other +to-day to see which can be the most intoxicating. Come and enjoy their +sparring match with me; I want to talk to you about one of my unfortunate +parishioners. It is a peculiarly pathetic case. I think you can help +and advise me in the matter.” + +It was a superb morning in early October. New York was like a beautiful +woman arrayed in her fresh autumn costume, disporting herself before +admiring eyes. + +Absorbed in each other’s society, their pulses beating high with youth, +love and health; the young couple walked through the crowded avenues of +the great city, as happily and as naturally as Adam and Eve might have +walked in the Garden of Eden the morning after Creation. + +Both were city born and city bred, yet both were as unfashionable and +untrammelled by custom as two children of the plains. + +In the very heart of the greatest metropolis in America, there are people +who live and retain all the primitive simplicity of village life and +thought. Mr Irving had been one of these. Coming to New York from an +interior village when a young man, he had, through simple and quiet +tastes and religious convictions, kept himself wholly free from the +social life of the city in which he lived. After his marriage his entire +happiness lay in his home, and Joy was reared by parents who made her +world. Mrs Irving sympathised fully with her husband in his distaste for +society, and her delicate health rendered her almost a recluse from the +world. + +A few pleasant acquaintances, no intimates, music, books, and a large +share of her time given to charitable work, composed the life of Joy +Irving. + +She had never been in a fashionable assemblage; she had never attended a +theatre, as Mr Irving did not approve of them. + +Extremely fond of outdoor life, she walked, unattended, wherever her mood +led her. As she had no acquaintances among society people, she knew +nothing and cared less for the rules which govern the promenading habits +of young women in New York. Her sweet face and graceful figure were well +known among the poorer quarters of the city, and it was through her work +in such places that Arthur Stuart’s attention had first been called to +her. + +As for him, he was filled with that high, but not always wise, disdain +for society and its customs, which we so often find in town-bred young +men of intellectual pursuits. He was clean-minded, independent, sure of +his own purposes, and wholly indifferent to the opinions of inferiors +regarding his habits. + +He loved the park, and he asked Joy to walk with him there, as freely as +he would have asked her to sit with him in a conservatory. It was a +great delight to the young girl to go. + +“It seems such a pity that the women of New York get so little benefit +from this beautiful park,” she said as they strolled along through the +winding paths together. “The wealthy people enjoy it in a way from their +carriages, and the poor people no doubt derive new life from their Sunday +promenades here. But there are thousands like myself who are almost +wholly debarred from its pleasures. I have always wanted to walk here, +but once I came and a rude man in a carriage spoke to me. Mother told me +never to come alone again. It seems strange to me that men who are so +proud of their strength, and who should be the natural protectors of +woman, can belittle themselves by annoying or frightening her when alone. +I am sure that same man would never think of speaking to me now that I am +with you. How cowardly he seems when you think of it! Yet I am told +there are many like him, though that was my only experience of the kind.” + +“Yes, there are many like him,” the rector answered. “But you must +remember how short a time man has been evolving from a lower animal +condition to his present state, and how much higher he is to-day than he +was a hundred years ago even, when occasional drunkenness was considered +an attribute of a gentleman. Now it is a vice of which he is ashamed.” + +“Then you believe in evolution?” Joy asked with a note of surprise in her +voice. + +“Yes, I surely do; nor does the belief conflict with my religious faith. +I believe in many things I could not preach from my pulpit. My +congregation is not ready for broad truths. I am like an eclectic +physician—I suit my treatment to my patient—I administer the old school +or the new school medicaments as the case demands.” + +“It seems to me there can be but one school in spiritual matters,” Joy +said gravely—“the right one. And I think one should preach and teach +what he believes to be true and right, no matter what his congregation +demands. Oh, forgive me. I am very rude to speak like that to you!” +And she blushed and paled with fright at her boldness. + +They were seated on a rustic bench now, under the shadow of a great tree. + +The rector smiled, his eyes fixed with pleased satisfaction on the girl’s +beautiful face, with its changing colour and expression. He felt he +could well afford to be criticised or rebuked by her, if the result was +so gratifying to his sight. The young rector of St Blank’s lived very +much more in his senses than in his ideals. + +“Perhaps you are right,” he said. “I sometimes wish I had greater +courage of my convictions. I think I could have, were you to stimulate +me with such words often. But my mother is so afraid that I will wander +from the old dogmas, that I am constantly checking myself. However, in +regard to the case I mentioned to you—it is a delicate subject, but you +are not like ordinary young women, and you and I have stood beside so +many sick-beds and death-beds together that we can speak as man to man, +or woman to woman, with no false modesty to bar our speech. + +“A very sad case has come to my knowledge of late. Miss Adams, a woman +who for some years has been a devout member of St Blank’s Church, has +several times mentioned her niece to me, a young girl who was away at +boarding school. A few months ago the young girl graduated and came to +live with this aunt. I remember her as a bright, buoyant and very +intelligent girl. I have not seen her now during two months; and last +week I asked Miss Adams what had become of her niece. Then the poor +woman broke into sobs and told me the sad state of affairs. It seems +that the girl Marah is her daughter. The poor mother had believed she +could guard the truth from her child, and had educated her as her niece, +and was now prepared to enjoy her companionship, when some +mischief-making gossip dug up the old scandal and imparted the facts to +Marah. + +“The girl came to Miss Adams and demanded the truth, and the mother +confessed. Then the daughter settled into a profound melancholy, from +which nothing seemed to rouse her. She will not go out, remains in the +house, and broods constantly over her disgrace. + +“It occurred to me that if Marah Adams could be brought out of herself +and interested in some work, or study, it would be the salvation of her +reason. Her mother told me she is an accomplished musician, but that she +refuses to touch her piano now. I thought you might take her as an +understudy on the organ, and by your influence and association lead her +out of herself. You could make her acquaintance through approaching the +mother who is a milliner, on business, and your tact would do the rest. +In all my large and wealthy congregation I know of no other woman to whom +I could appeal for aid in this delicate matter, so I am sure you will +pardon me. In fact, I fear were the matter to be known in the +congregation at all, it would lead to renewed pain and added hurts for +both Miss Adams and her daughter. You know women can be so cruel to each +other in subtle ways, and I have seen almost death-blows dealt in church +aisles by one church member to another.” + +“Oh, that is a terrible reflection on Christians,” cried Joy, who, a born +Christ-woman, believed that all professed church members must feel the +same divine spirit of sympathy and charity which burned in her own sweet +soul. + +“No, it is a simple truth—an unfortunate fact,” the young man replied. +“I preach sermons at such members of my church, but they seldom take them +home. They think I mean somebody else. These are the people who follow +the letter and not the spirit of the church. But one such member as you, +recompenses me for a score of the others. I felt I must come to you with +the Marah Adams affair.” + +Joy was still thinking of the reflection the rector had cast upon his +congregation. It hurt her, and she protested. + +“Oh, surely,” she said, “you cannot mean that I am the only one of the +professed Christians in your church who would show mercy and sympathy to +poor Miss Adams. Surely few, very few, would forget Christ’s words to +Mary Magdalene, ‘Go and sin no more,’ or fail to forgive as He forgave. +She has led such a good life all these years.” + +The rector smiled sadly. + +“You judge others by your own true heart,” he said. “But I know the +world as it is. Yes, the members of my church would forgive Miss Adams +for her sin—and cut her dead. They would daily crucify her and her +innocent child by their cold scorn or utter ignoring of them. They would +not allow their daughters to associate with this blameless girl, because +of her mother’s misstep. + +“It is the same in and out of the churches. Twenty people will repeat +Christ’s words to a repentant sinner, but nineteen of that twenty +interpolate a few words of their own, through tone, gesture or manner, +until ‘Go and sin no more’ sounds to the poor unfortunate more like ‘Go +just as far away from me and mine as you can get—and sin no more!’ Only +one in that score puts Christ’s merciful and tender meaning into the +phrase and tries by sympathetic association to make it possible for the +sinner to sin no more. I felt you were that one, and so I appealed to +you in this matter about Marah Adams.” + +Joy’s eyes were full of tears. “You must know more of human nature than +I do,” she said, “but I hate terribly to think you are right in this +estimate of the people of your congregation. I will go and see what I +can do for this girl to-morrow. Poor child, poor mother, to pass through +a second Gethsemane for her sin. I think any girl or boy whose home life +is shadowed, is to be pitied. I have always had such a happy home, and +such dear parents, the world would seem insupportable, I am sure, were I +to face it without that background. Dear papa’s death was a great blow, +and mother’s ill health has been a sorrow, but we have always been so +happy and harmonious, and that, I think, is worth more than a fortune to +a child. Poor, poor Marah—unable to respect her mother, what a terrible +thing it all is!” + +“Yes, it is a sad affair. I cannot help thinking it would have been a +pardonable lie if Miss Adams had denied the truth when the girl +confronted her with the story. It is the one situation in life where a +lie is excusable, I think. It would have saved this poor girl no end of +sorrow, and it could not have added much to the mother’s burden. I think +lying must have originated with an erring woman.” + +Joy looked at her rector with startled eyes. “A lie is never excusable,” +she said, “and I do not believe it ever saves sorrow. But I see you do +not mean what you say, you only feel very sorry for the girl; and you +surely do not forget that the lie originated with Satan, who told a +falsehood to Eve.” + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +EVER since early girlhood Joy Irving had formed a habit of jotting down +in black and white her own ideas regarding any book, painting, concert, +conversation or sermon, which interested her, and epitomising the train +of thought to which they led. + +The evening after her walk and talk with the rector of St Blank’s, she +took out her note-book, which bore a date four years old under its title +“My Impressions,” and read over the last page of entries. They had +evidently been written at the close of some Sabbath day and ran as +follows:— + + Many a kneeling woman is more occupied with how her skirts hang than + how her prayers ascend. I am inclined to think we all ought to wear + a uniform to church if we would really worship there. God must grow + weary looking down on so many new bonnets. + + I wore a smart hat to church to-day, and I found myself criticising + every other woman’s bonnet during service, so that I failed in some + of my responses. + + If we could all be compelled by some mysterious power to _think + aloud_ on Sunday, what a veritable holy day we would make of it! + Though we are taught from childhood that God hears our thoughts, the + best of us would be afraid to have our nearest friends know them. + + I sometimes think it is a presumption on the part of any man to rise + in the pulpit and undertake to tell me about a Creator with whom I + feel every whit as well acquainted as he. I suppose such thoughts + are wicked, however, and should be suppressed. + + It is a curious fact, that the most aggressively sensitive persons + are at heart the most conceited. + + I wish people smiled more in church aisles. In fact, I think we all + laugh at one another too much and smile at one another too seldom. + + After the devil had made all the trouble for woman he could with the + fig leaf, he introduced the French heel. + + It is well to see the ridiculous side of things, but not of people. + + Most of us would rather be popular than right. + +To these impressions Joy added the following:— + + It is not the interior of one’s house, but the interior of one’s mind + which makes home. + + It seems to me that to be, is to love. I can conceive of no state of + existence which is not permeated with this feeling toward something, + somebody or the illimitable “nothing” which is mother to everything. + + I wish we had more religion in the world and fewer churches. + + People who believe in no God, invariably exalt themselves into His + position, and worship with the very idolatry they decry in others. + + Music is the echo of the rhythm of God’s respirations. + + Poetry is the effort of the divine part of man to formulate a worthy + language in which to converse with angels. + + Painting and sculpture seem to me the most presumptuous of the arts. + They are an effort of man to outdo God in creation. He never made a + perfect form or face—the artist alone makes them. + + I am sure I do not play the organ as well at St Blank’s as I played + it in the little church where I gave my services and was unknown. + People are praising me too much here, and this mars all spontaneity. + + The very first hour of positive success is often the last hour of + great achievement. So soon as we are conscious of the admiring and + expectant gaze of men, we cease to commune with God. It is when we + are unknown to or neglected by mortals, that we reach up to the + Infinite and are inspired. + + I have seen Marah Adams to-day, and I felt strangely drawn to her. + Her face would express all goodness if it were not so unhappy. + Unhappiness is a species of evil, since it is a discourtesy to God to + be unhappy. + + I am going to do all I can for the girl to bring her into a better + frame of mind. No blame can be attached to her, and yet now that I + am face to face with the situation, and realise how the world regards + such a person, I myself find it a little hard to think of braving + public opinion and identifying myself with her. But I am going to + overcome such feelings, as they are cowardly and unworthy of me, and + purely the result of education. I am amazed, too, to discover this + weakness in myself. + + How sympathetic dear mamma is! I told her about Marah, and she wept + bitterly, and has carried her eyes full of tears ever since. I must + be careful and tell her nothing sad while she is in such a weak state + physically. + + I told mamma what the rector said about lying. She coincided with + him that Mrs Adams would have been justified in denying the truth if + she had realised how her daughter was to be affected by this + knowledge. A woman’s past belongs only to herself and her God, she + says, unless she wishes to make a confidant. But I cannot agree with + her or the rector. I would want the truth from my parents, however + much it hurt. Many sins which men regard as serious only obstruct + the bridge between our souls and truth. A lie burns the bridge. + + I hope I am not uncharitable, yet I cannot conceive of committing an + act through love of any man, which would lower me in his esteem, once + committed. Yet of course I have had little experience in life, with + men, or with temptation. But it seems to me I could not continue to + love a man who did not seek to lead me higher. The moment he stood + before me and asked me to descend, I should realise he was to be + pitied—not adored. + + I told mother this, and she said I was too young and inexperienced to + form decided opinions on such subjects, and she warned me that I must + not become uncharitable. She wept bitterly as she thought of my + becoming narrow or bigoted in my ideas, dear, tender-hearted mamma. + + Death should be called the Great Revealer instead of the Great + Destroyer. + + Some people think the way into heaven is through embroidered altar + cloths. + + The soul that has any conception of its own possibilities does not + fear solitude. + + A girl told me to-day that a rude man annoyed her by staring at her + in a public conveyance. It never occurred to her that it takes four + eyes to make a stare annoying. + + Astronomers know more about the character of the stars than the + average American mother knows about the temperament of her daughters. + + To some women the most terrible thought connected with death is the + dates in the obituary notice. + + As a rule, when a woman opens the door of an artistic career with one + hand, she shuts the door on domestic happiness with the other. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +THE rector of St Blank’s Church dined at the Cheney table or drove in the +Cheney establishment every week, beside which there were always one or +two confidential chats with the feminine Cheneys in the parsonage on +matters pertaining to the welfare of the church, and occasionally to the +welfare of humanity. + +That Alice Cheney had conceived a sudden and consuming passion for the +handsome and brilliant rector of St Blank’s, both her mother and the +Baroness knew, and both were doing all in their power to further the +girl’s hopes. + +While Alice resembled her mother in appearance and disposition, +propensities and impulses occasionally exhibited themselves which spoke +of paternal inheritance. She had her father’s strongly emotional nature, +with her mother’s stubbornness; and Preston Cheney’s romantic tendencies +were repeated in his daughter, without his reasoning powers. Added to +her father’s lack of self-control in any strife with his passions, Alice +possessed her mother’s hysterical nerves. In fact, the unfortunate child +inherited the weaknesses and faults of both parents, without any of their +redeeming virtues. + +The passion which had sprung to life in her breast for the young rector, +was as strong and unreasoning as the infatuation which her father had +once experienced for Berene Dumont; but instead of struggling against the +feeling as her father had at least attempted to do, she dwelt upon it +with all the mulish persistency which her mother exhibited in small +matters, and luxuriated in romantic dreams of the future. + +Mabel was wholly unable to comprehend the depth or violence of her +daughter’s feelings, but she realised the fact that Alice had set her +mind on winning Arthur Stuart for a husband, and she quite approved of +the idea, and saw no reason why it should not succeed. She herself had +won Preston Cheney away from all rivals for his favour, and Alice ought +to be able to do the same with Arthur, after all the money which had been +expended upon her wardrobe. Senator Cheney’s daughter and Judge +Lawrence’s granddaughter, surely was a prize for any man to win as a +wife. + +The Baroness, however, reviewed the situation with more concern of mind. +She realised that Alice was destitute of beauty and charm, and that +Arthur Emerson Stuart (it would have been considered a case of high +treason to speak of the rector of St Blank’s without using his three +names) was independent in the matter of fortune, and so dowered with +nature’s best gifts that he could have almost any woman for the asking +whom he should desire. But the Baroness believed much in propinquity; +and she brought the rector and Alice together as often as possible, and +coached the girl in coquettish arts when alone with her, and credited her +with witticisms and bon-mots which she had never uttered, when talking of +her to the young rector. + +“If only I could give Alice the benefit of my past career,” the Baroness +would say to herself at times. “I know so well how to manage men; but +what use is my knowledge to me now that I am old? Alice is young, and +even without beauty she could do so much, if she only understood the art +of masculine seduction. But then it is a gift, not an acquired art, and +Alice was not born with the gift.” + +While Mabel and Alice had been centring their thoughts and attentions on +the rector, the Baroness had not forgotten the rector’s mother. She knew +the very strong affection which existed between the two, and she had +discovered that the leading desire of the young man’s heart was to make +his mother happy. With her wide knowledge of human nature, she had not +been long in discerning the fact that it was not because of his own +religious convictions that the rector had chosen his calling, but to +carry out the lifelong wishes of his beloved mother. + +Therefore she reasoned wisely that Arthur would be greatly influenced by +his mother in his choice of a wife; and the Baroness brought all her vast +battery of fascination to bear on Mrs Stuart, and succeeded in making +that lady her devoted friend. + +The widow of Judge Lawrence was still an imposing and impressive figure +wherever she went. Though no longer a woman who appealed to the desires +of men, she exhaled that peculiar mental aroma which hangs ever about a +woman who has dealt deeply and widely in affairs of the heart. It is to +the spiritual senses what musk is to the physical; and while it may often +repulse, it sometimes attracts, and never fails to be noticed. About the +Baroness’s mouth were hard lines, and the expression of her eyes was not +kind or tender; yet she was everywhere conceded to be a universally +handsome and attractive woman. Quiet and tasteful in her dressing, she +did not accentuate the ravages of time by any mistaken frivolities of +toilet, as so many faded coquettes have done, but wisely suited her +vestments to her appearance, as the withering branch clothes itself in +russet leaves, when the fresh sap ceases to course through its veins. +New York City is a vast sepulchre of “past careers,” and the adventurous +life of the Baroness was quietly buried there with that of many another +woman. In the mad whirl of life there is small danger that any of these +skeletons will rise to view, unless the woman permits herself to strive +for eminence either socially or in the world of art. + +While the Cheneys were known to be wealthy, and the Senator had achieved +political position, there was nothing in their situation to challenge the +jealousy of their associates. They moved in one of the many circles of +cultured and agreeable people, which, despite the mandate of a +M‘Allister, formed a varied and delightful society in the metropolis; +they entertained in an unostentatious manner, and there was nothing in +their personality to incite envy or jealousy. Therefore the career of +the Baroness had not been unearthed. That the widow of Judge Lawrence, +the stepmother of Mrs Cheney, was known as “The Baroness” caused some +questions, to be sure, but the simple answer that she had been the widow +of a French baron in early life served to allay curiosity, while it +rendered the lady herself an object of greater interest to the majority +of people. + +Mrs Stuart, the rector’s mother, was one of those who were most impressed +by this incident in the life of Mrs Lawrence. “Family pride” was her +greatest weakness, and she dearly loved a title. She thought Mrs +Lawrence a typical “Baroness,” and though she knew the title had only +been obtained through marriage, it still rendered its possessor +peculiarly interesting in her eyes. + +In her prime, the Baroness had been equally successful in cajoling women +and men. Though her day for ruling men was now over, she still possessed +the power to fascinate women when she chose to exert herself. She did +exert herself with Mrs Stuart, and succeeded admirably in her design. + +And one day Mrs Stuart confided her secret anxiety to the ear of the +Baroness; and that secret caused the cheek of the listener to grow pale +and the look of an animal at bay to come into her eyes. + +“There is just one thing that gives me a constant pain at my heart,” Mrs +Stuart had said. “You have never been a mother, yet I think your +sympathetic nature causes you to understand much which you have not +experienced, and knowing as you do the great pride I feel in my son’s +career, and the ambition I have for him to rise to the very highest +pinnacle of success and usefulness, I am sure you will comprehend my +anxiety when I see him exhibiting an undue interest in a girl who is in +every way his inferior, and wholly unsuited to fill the position his wife +should occupy.” + +The Baroness listened with a cold, sinking sensation at her heart + +“I am sure your son would never make a choice which was not agreeable to +you,” she ventured. + +“He might not marry anyone I objected to,” Mrs Stuart replied, “but I +dread to think his heart may be already gone from his keeping. Young men +are so susceptible to a pretty face and figure, and I confess that Joy +Irving has both. She is a good girl, too, and a fine musician; but she +has no family, and her alliance with my son would be a great drawback to +his career. Her father was a grocer, I believe, or something of that +sort; quite a common man, who married a third-class actress, Joy’s +mother. Mr Irving was in very comfortable circumstances at one time, but +a stroke of paralysis rendered him helpless some four years ago. He died +last year and left his widow and child in straitened circumstances. Mrs +Irving is an invalid now, and Joy supports her with her music. Mr Irving +and Joy were members of Arthur Emerson’s former church (Mrs Stuart always +spoke of her son in that manner), and that is how my son became +interested in the daughter—an interest I supposed to be purely that of a +rector in his parishioner, until of late, when I began to fear it took +root in deeper soil. But I am sure, dear Baroness, you can understand my +anxiety.” + +And then the Baroness, with drawn lips and anguished eyes, took both of +Mrs Stuart’s hands in hers, and cried out: + +“Your pain, dear madam, is second to mine. I have no child, to be sure, +but as few mothers love I love Alice Cheney, my dear husband’s +granddaughter. My very life is bound up in her, and she—God help us, she +loves your son with her whole soul. If he marries another it will kill +her or drive her insane.” + +The two women fell weeping into each other’s arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +PRESTON CHENEY conceived such a strong, earnest liking for the young +clergyman whom he met under his own roof during one of his visits home, +that he fell into the habit of attending church for the first time in his +life. + +Mabel and Alice were deeply gratified with this intimacy between the two +men, which brought the rector to the house far oftener than they could +have tastefully done without the co-operation of the husband and father. +Besides, it looked well to have the head of the household represented in +the church. To the Baroness, also, there was added satisfaction in +attending divine service, now that Preston Cheney sat in the pew. All +hope of winning the love she had so longed to possess, died many years +before; and she had been cruel and unkind in numerous ways to the object +of her hopeless passion, yet like the smell of dead rose leaves long shut +in a drawer, there clung about this man the faint, suggestive fragrance +of a perished dream. + +She knew that he did not love his wife, and that he was disappointed in +his daughter; and she did not at least have to suffer the pain of seeing +him lavish the affection she had missed, on others. + +Mr Cheney had been called away from home on business the day before the +new organist took her place in St Blank’s Church. Nearly a month had +passed when he again occupied his pew. + +Before the organist had finished her introduction, he turned to Alice, +saying: + +“There has been a change here in the choir, since I went away, and for +the better. That is a very unusual musician. Do you know who it is?” + +“Some lady, I believe; I do not remember her name,” Alice answered +indifferently. Like her mother, Alice never enjoyed hearing anyone +praised. It mattered little who it was, or how entirely out of her own +line the achievements or accomplishments on which the praise was +bestowed, she still felt that petty resentment of small creatures who +believe that praise to others detracts from their own value. + +A fortune had been expended on Alice’s musical education, yet she could +do no more than rattle through some mediocre composition, with neither +taste nor skill. + +The money which has been wasted in trying to teach music to unmusical +people would pay our national debt twice over, and leave a competency for +every orphan in the land. + +When the organist had finished her second selection, Mr Cheney addressed +the same question to his wife which he had addressed to Alice. + +“Who is the new organist?” he queried. Mabel only shook her head and +placed her finger on her lip as a signal for silence during service. + +The third time it was the Baroness, sitting just beyond Mabel, to whom Mr +Cheney spoke. “That’s a very remarkable musician, very remarkable,” he +said. “Do you know anything about her?” + +“Yes, wait until we get home, and I will tell you all about her,” the +Baroness replied. + +When the service was over, Mr Cheney did not pass out at once, as was his +custom. Instead he walked toward the pulpit, after requesting his family +to wait a moment. + +The rector saw him and came down into the aisle to speak to him. + +“I want to congratulate you on the new organist,” Mr Cheney said, “and I +want to meet her. Alice tells me it is a lady. She must have devoted a +lifetime to hard study to become such a marvellous mistress of that +difficult instrument.” + +Arthur Stuart smiled. “Wait a moment,” he said, “and I will send for +her. I would like you to meet her, and like her to meet your wife and +family. She has few, if any, acquaintances in my congregation.” + +Mr Cheney went down the aisle, and joined the three ladies who were +waiting for him in the pew. All were smiling, for all three believed +that he had been asking the rector to accompany them home to dinner. His +first word dispelled the illusion. + +“Wait here a moment,” he said. “Mr Stuart is going to bring the organist +to meet us. I want to know the woman who can move me so deeply by her +music.” + +Over the faces of his three listeners there fell a cloud. Mabel looked +annoyed, Alice sulky, and a flush of the old jealous fury darkened the +brow of the Baroness. But all were smiling deceitfully when Joy Irving +approached. + +Her radiant young beauty, and the expressions of admiration with which +Preston Cheney greeted her as a woman and an artist, filled life with +gall and wormwood for the three feminine listeners. + +“What! this beautiful young miss, scarcely out of short frocks, is not +the musician who gave us that wonderful harmony of sounds. My child, how +did you learn to play like that in the brief life you have passed on +earth? Surely you must have been taught by the angels before you came.” + +A deep blush of pleasure at the words which, though so extravagant, Joy +felt to be sincere, increased her beauty as she looked up into Preston +Cheney’s admiring eyes. + +And as he held her hands in both of his and gazed down upon her it seemed +to the Baroness she could strike them dead at her feet and rejoice in the +act. + +Beside this radiant vision of loveliness and genius, Alice looked plainer +and more meagre than ever before. She was like a wayside weed beside an +American Beauty rose. + +“I hope you and Alice will become good friends,” Mr Cheney said warmly. +“We should like to see you at the house any time you can make it +convenient to come, would we not Mabel?” + +Mrs Cheney gave a formal assent to her husband’s words as they turned +away, leaving Joy with the rector. And a scene in one of life’s +strangest dramas had been enacted, unknown to them all. + +“I would like you to be very friendly with that girl, Alice,” Mr Cheney +repeated as they seated themselves in the carriage. “She has a rare +face, a rare face, and she is highly gifted. She reminds me of someone I +have known, yet I can’t think who it is. What do you know about her, +Baroness?” + +The Baroness gave an expressive shrug. “Since you admire her so much,” +she said, “I rather hesitate telling you. But the girl is of common +origin—a grocer’s daughter, and her mother quite an inferior person. I +hardly think it a suitable companionship for Alice.” + +“I am sure I don’t care to know her,” chimed in Alice. “I thought her +quite bold and forward in her manner.” + +“Decidedly so! She seemed to hang on to your father’s hand as if she +would never let go,” added Mabel, in her most acid tone. “I must say, I +should have been horrified to see you act in such a familiar manner +toward any stranger.” A quick colour shot into Preston Cheney’s cheek +and a spark into his eye. + +“The girl was perfectly modest in her deportment to me,” he said. “She +is a lady through and through, however humble her birth may be. But I +ought to have known better than to ask my wife and daughter to like +anyone whom I chanced to admire. I learned long ago how futile such an +idea was.” + +“Oh, well, I don’t see why you need get so angry over a perfect stranger +whom you never laid eyes on until to-day,” pouted Alice. “I am sure +she’s nothing to any of us that we need quarrel over her.” + +“A man never gets so old that he is not likely to make a fool of himself +over a pretty face,” supplemented Mabel, “and there is no fool like an +old fool.” + +The uncomfortable drive home came to an end at this juncture, and Preston +Cheney retired to his own room, with the disagreeable words of his wife +and daughter ringing in his ears, and the beautiful face of the young +organist floating before his eyes. + +“I wish she were my daughter,” he said to himself; “what a comfort and +delight a girl like that would be to me!” + +And while these thoughts filled the man’s heart the Baroness paced her +room with all the jealous passions of her still ungoverned nature roused +into new life and violence at the remembrance of Joy Irving’s fresh young +beauty and Preston Cheney’s admiring looks and words. + +“I could throttle her,” she cried, “I could throttle her. Oh, why is she +sent across my life at every turn? Why should the only two men in the +world who interest me to-day, be so infatuated over that girl? But if I +cannot remove so humble an obstacle as she from my pathway, I shall feel +that my day of power is indeed over, and that I do not believe to be +true.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +TWO weeks later the organ loft of St Blank’s Church was occupied by a +stranger. For a few hours the Baroness felt a wild hope in her heart +that Miss Irving had been sent away. + +But inquiry elicited the information that the young musician had merely +employed a substitute because her mother was lying seriously ill at home. + +It was then that the Baroness put into execution a desire she had to make +the personal acquaintance of Joy Irving. + +The desire had sprung into life with the knowledge of the rector’s +interest in the girl. No one knew better than the Baroness how to sow +the seeds of doubt, distrust and discord between two people whom she +wished to alienate. Many a sweetheart, many a wife, had she separated +from lover and husband, scarcely leaving a sign by which the trouble +could be traced to her, so adroit and subtle were her methods. + +She felt that she could insert an invisible wedge between these two +hearts, which would eventually separate them, if only she might make the +acquaintance of Miss Irving. And now chance had opened the way for her. + +She made her resolve known to the rector. + +“I am deeply interested in the young organist whom I had the pleasure of +meeting some weeks ago,” she said, and she noted with a sinking heart the +light which flashed into the man’s face at the mere mention of the girl. +“I understand her mother is seriously ill, and I think I will go around +and call. Perhaps I can be of use. I understand Mrs Irving is not a +churchwoman, and she may be in real need, as the family is in straitened +circumstances. May I mention your name when I call, in order that Miss +Irving may not think I intrude?” + +“Why, certainly,” the rector replied with warmth. “Indeed, I will give +you a card of introduction. That will open the way for you, and at the +same time I know you will use your delicate tact to avoid wounding Miss +Irving’s pride in any way. She is very sensitive about their straitened +circumstances; you may have heard that they were quite well-to-do until +the stroke of paralysis rendered her father helpless. All their means +were exhausted in efforts to restore his health, and in the employment of +nurses and physicians. I think they have found life a difficult problem +since his death, as Mrs Irving has been under medical care constantly, +and the whole burden falls on Miss Joy’s young shoulders, and she is but +twenty-one.” + +“Just the age of Alice,” mused the Baroness. “How differently people’s +lives are ordered in this world! But then we must have the hewers of +wood and the drawers of water, and we must have the delicate human +flowers. Our Alice is one of the latter, a frail blossom to look upon, +but she is one of the kind which will bloom out in great splendour under +the sunshine of love and happiness. Very few people realise what +wonderful reserve force that delicate child possesses. And such a tender +heart! She was determined to come with me when she heard of Miss +Irving’s trouble, but I thought it unwise to take her until I had seen +the place. She is so sensitive to her surroundings, and it might be too +painful for her. I am for ever holding her back from overtaxing herself +for others. No one dreams of the amount of good that girl does in a +secret, quiet way; and at the same time she assumes an indifferent air +and talks as if she were quite heartless, just to hinder people from +suspecting her charitable work. She is such a strange, complicated +character.” + +Armed with her card of introduction, the Baroness set forth on her +“errand of mercy.” She had not mentioned Miss Irving’s name to Mabel or +Alice. The secret of the rector’s interest in the girl was locked in her +own breast. She knew that Mabel was wholly incapable of coping with such +a situation, and she dreaded the effect of the news on Alice, who was +absorbed in her love dream. The girl had never been denied a wish in her +life, and no thought came to her that she could be thwarted in this, her +most cherished hope of all. + +The Baroness was determined to use every gun in her battery of defence +before she allowed Mabel or Alice to know that defence was needed. + +The rector’s card admitted her to the parlour of a small flat. The +portières of an adjoining room were thrown open presently, and a vision +of radiant beauty entered the room. + +The Baroness could not explain it, but as the girl emerged from the +curtains, a strange, confused memory of something and somebody she had +known in the past came over her. But when the girl spoke, a more +inexplicable sensation took possession of the listener, for her voice was +the feminine of Preston Cheney’s masculine tones, and then as she looked +at the girl again the haunting memories of the first glance were +explained, for she was very like Preston Cheney as the Baroness +remembered him when he came to the Palace to engage rooms more than a +score of years ago. “What a strange thing these resemblances are!” she +thought. “This girl is more like Senator Cheney, far more like him, than +Alice is. Ah, if Alice only had her face and form!” + +Miss Irving gave a slight start, and took a step back as her eyes fell +upon the Baroness. The rector’s card had read, “Introducing Mrs +Sylvester Lawrence.” She had known this lad by sight ever since her +first Sunday as organist at St Blank’s, and for some unaccountable reason +she had conceived a most intense dislike for her. Joy was drawn toward +humanity in general, as naturally as the sunlight falls on the earth’s +foliage. Her heart radiated love and sympathy toward the whole world. +But when she did feel a sentiment of distrust or repulsion she had +learned to respect it. + +Our guardian angels sometimes send these feelings as danger signals to +our souls. + +It therefore required a strong effort of her will to go forward and +extend a hand in greeting to the lady whom her rector and friend had +introduced. + +“I must beg pardon for this intrusion,” the Baroness said with her +sweetest smile; “but our rector urged me to come and so I felt emboldened +to carry out the wish I have long entertained to make your acquaintance. +Your wonderful music inspires all who hear you to know you personally; +the service lacked half its charm on Sunday because you were absent. +When I learnt that your absence was occasioned by your mother’s illness, +I asked the rector if he thought a call from me would be an intrusion, +and he assured me to the contrary. I used to be considered an excellent +nurse; I am very strong, and full of vitality, and if you would permit me +to sit by your mother some Sunday when you are needed at church, I should +be most happy to do so. I should like to make the acquaintance of your +mother, and compliment her on the happiness of possessing such a gifted +and dutiful daughter.” + +Like all who sat for any time under the spell of the second Mrs Lawrence, +Joy felt the charm of her voice, words and manner, and it began to seem +as if she had been very unreasonable in entertaining unfounded +prejudices. + +That the rector had introduced her was alone proof of her worthiness; and +the gracious offer of the distinguished-looking lady to watch by the +bedside of a stranger was certainly evidence of her good heart. The +frost disappeared from her smile, and she warmed toward the Baroness. +The call lengthened into a visit, and as the Baroness finally rose to go, +Joy said: + +“I will take you in and introduce you to mamma now. I think it will do +her good to meet you,” and the Baroness followed the graceful girl +through a narrow hall, and into a room which had evidently been intended +for a dining-room, but which, owing to its size and its windows opening +to the south, had been utilised as a sick chamber. + +The invalid lay with her face turned away from the door. But by the +movement of the delicate hand on the counterpane, Joy knew that her +mother was awake. + +“Mamma, I have brought a lady, a friend of Dr Stuart’s, to see you,” Joy +said gently. The invalid turned her head upon the pillow, and the +Baroness looked upon the face of—Berene Dumont. + +“Berene!” + +“Madam!” + +The two spoke simultaneously, and the invalid had started upright in bed. + +“Mamma, what is the matter? Oh, please lie down, or you will bring on +another hæmorrhage,” cried the startled girl; but her mother lifted her +hand. + +“Joy,” she said in a firm, clear voice, “this lady is an old acquaintance +of mine. Please go out, dear, and shut the door. I wish to see her +alone.” + +Joy passed out with drooping head and a sinking heart. As the door +closed behind her the Baroness spoke. + +“So that is Preston Cheney’s daughter,” she said. “I always had my +suspicions of the cause which led you to leave my house so suddenly. +Does the girl know who her father is? And does Senator Cheney know of +her existence, may I ask?” + +A crimson flush suffused the invalid’s face. Then a flame of fire shot +into the dark eyes, and a small red spot only glowed on either pale +cheek. + +“I do not know by what right you ask these questions, Baroness Brown,” +she answered slowly; and her listener cringed under the old appellation +which recalled the miserable days when she had kept a lodging-house—days +she had almost forgotten during the last decade of life. + +“But I can assure you, madam,” continued the speaker, “that my daughter +knows no father save the good man, my husband, who is dead. I have never +by word or line made my existence known to anyone I ever knew since I +left Beryngford. I do not know why you should come here to insult me, +madam; I have never harmed you or yours, and you have no proof of the +accusation you just made, save your own evil suspicions.” + +The Baroness gave an unpleasant laugh. + +“It is an easy matter for me to find proof of my suspicions if I choose +to take the trouble,” she said. “There are detectives enough to hunt up +your trail, and I have money enough to pay them for their trouble. But +Joy is the living evidence of the assertion. She is the image of Preston +Cheney, as he was twenty-three years ago. I am ready, however, to let +the matter drop on one condition; and that condition is, that you extract +a promise from your daughter that she will not encourage the attentions +of Arthur Emerson Stuart, the rector of St Blank’s; that she will never +under any circumstances be his wife.” + +The red spots faded to a sickly yellow in the invalid’s cheeks. “Why +should you ask this of me?” she cried. “Why should you wish to destroy +the happiness of my child’s life? She loves Arthur Stuart, and I know +that he loves her! It is the one thought which resigns me to death; the +thought that I may leave her the beloved wife of this good man.” + +The Baroness leaned lower over the pillow of the invalid as she answered: +“I will tell you why I ask this sacrifice of you.” + +“Perhaps you do not know that I married Judge Lawrence after the death of +his first wife. Perhaps you do not know that Preston Cheney’s legitimate +daughter is as precious to me as his illegitimate child is to you. Alice +is only six months younger than Joy; she is frail, delicate, sensitive. +A severe disappointment would kill her. She, too, loves Arthur Stuart. +If your daughter will let him alone, he will marry Alice. Surely the +illegitimate child should give way to the legitimate. + +“If you are selfish in this matter, I shall be obliged to tell your +daughter the true story of her life, and let her be the judge of what is +right and what is wrong. I fancy she might have a finer perception of +duty than you have—she is so much like her father.” + +The tortured invalid fell back panting on her pillow. She put out her +hands with a distracted, imploring gesture. + +“Leave me to think,” she gasped. “I never knew that Preston Cheney had a +daughter; I did not know he lived here. My life has been so quiet, so +secluded these many years. Leave me to think. I will give you my answer +in a few days; I will write you after I reflect and pray.” + +The Baroness passed out, and Joy, hastening into the room, found her +mother in a wild paroxysm of tears. Late that night Mrs Irving called +for writing materials; and for many hours she sat propped up in bed +writing rapidly. + +When she had completed her task she called Joy to her side. + +“Darling,” she said, placing a sealed manuscript in her hands, “I want +you to keep this seal unbroken so long as you are happy. I know in spite +of your deep sorrow at my death, which must come ere long, you will find +much happiness in life. You came smiling into existence, and no common +sorrow can deprive you of the joy which is your birthright. But there +are numerous people in the world who may strive to wound you after I am +gone. If slanderous tales or cruel reports reach your ears, and render +you unhappy, break this seal, and read the story I have written here. +There are some things which will deeply pain you, I know. Do not force +yourself to read them until a necessity arises. I leave you this +manuscript as I might leave you a weapon for self-defence. Use it only +when you are in need of that defence.” + +The next morning Mrs Irving was weakened by another and most serious +hæmorrhage of the lungs. Her physician was grave, and urged the daughter +to be prepared for the worst. + +“I fear your mother’s life is a matter of days only,” he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +THE Baroness went directly from the home which she had entered only to +blight, and sent her card marked “urgent” to Mrs Stuart. + +“I have come to tell you an unpleasant story,” she said—“a painful and +revolting story, the early chapters of which were written years ago, but +the sequel has only just been made known to me. It concerns you and +yours vitally; it also concerns me and mine. I am sure, when you have +heard the story to the end, you will say that truth is stranger than +fiction, indeed: and you will more than ever realise the necessity of +preventing your son from marrying Joy Irving—a child who was born before +her mother ever met Mr Irving; and whose mother, I daresay, was no more +the actual wife of Mr Irving in the name of law and decency than she had +been the wife of his many predecessors.” + +Startled and horrified at this beginning of the story, Mrs Stuart was in +a state of excited indignation at the end. The Baroness had magnified +facts and distorted truths until she represented Berene Dumont as a +monster of depravity; a vicious being who had been for a short time the +recipient of the Baroness’s mistaken charity, and who had repaid kindness +by base ingratitude, and immorality. The man implicated in the scandal +which she claimed was the cause of Berene’s flight was not named in this +recital. + +Indeed the Baroness claimed that he was more sinned against than sinning, +and that it was a case of mesmeric influence, or evil eye, on the part of +the depraved woman. + +Mrs Lawrence took pains to avoid any reference to Beryngford also; +speaking of these occurrences having taken place while she spent a summer +in a distant interior town, where, “after the death of the Baron, she had +rented a villa, feeling that she wanted to retire from the world.” + +“My heart is always running away with my head,” she remarked, “and I +thought this poor creature, who was shunned and neglected by all, worth +saving. I tried to befriend her, and hoped to waken the better nature +which every woman possesses, I think, but she was too far gone in +iniquity. + +“You cannot imagine, my dear Mrs Stuart, what a shock it was to me on +entering that sickroom to-day, my heart full of kindly sympathy, to +encounter in the invalid the ungrateful recipient of my past favours; and +to realise that her daughter was no other than the shameful offspring of +her immoral past. In spite of the girl’s beauty, there is an expression +about her face which I never liked; and I fully understand now why I did +not like it. Of course, Mrs Stuart, this story is told to you in strict +confidence. I would not for the world have dear Mrs Cheney know of it, +nor would I pollute sweet Alice with such a tale. Indeed, Alice would +not understand it if she were told, for she is as ignorant and innocent +as a child in arms of such matters. We have kept her absolutely +unspotted from the world. But I knew it was my duty to tell you the +whole shameful story. If worst comes to worst, you will be obliged to +tell your son perhaps, and if he doubts the story send him to me for its +verification.” + +Worst came to the worst before twenty-four hours had passed. The rector +received word that Mrs Irving was rapidly failing, and went to act the +part of spiritual counsellor to the invalid, and sympathetic friend to +the suffering girl. + +When he returned his mother watched his face with eager, anxious eyes. +He looked haggard and ill, as if he had passed through a severe ordeal. +He could talk of nothing but the beautiful and brave girl, who was about +to lose her one worshipped companion, and who ere many hours passed would +stand utterly alone in the world. + +“I never saw you so affected before by the troubles and sorrows of your +parishioners,” Mrs Stuart said. “I wonder, Arthur, why you take the +sorrows of this family so keenly to heart.” + +The young rector looked his mother full in the face with calm, sad eyes. +Then he said slowly: + +“I suppose, mother, it is because I love Joy Irving with all my heart. +You must have suspected this for some time. I know that you have, and +that the thought has pained you. You have had other and more ambitious +aims for me. Earnest Christian and good woman that you are, you have a +worldly and conventional vein in your nature, which makes you reverence +position, wealth and family to a marked degree. You would, I know, like +to see me unite myself with some royal family, were that possible; +failing in that, you would choose the daughter of some great and +aristocratic house to be my bride. Ah, well, dear mother, you will, I +know, concede that marriage without love is unholy. I am not able to +force myself to love some great lady, even supposing I could win her if I +did love her.” + +“But you might keep yourself from forming a foolish and unworthy +attachment,” Mrs Stuart interrupted. “With your will-power, your brain, +your reasoning faculties, I see no necessity for your allowing a pretty +face to run away with your heart. Nothing could be more unsuitable, more +shocking, more dreadful, than to have you make that girl your wife, +Arthur.” + +Mrs Stuart’s voice rose as she spoke, from a quiet reasoning tone to a +high, excited wail. She had not meant to say so much. She had intended +merely to appeal to her son’s affection for her, without making any +unpleasant disclosures regarding Joy’s mother; she thought merely to win +a promise from him that he would not compromise himself at present with +the girl, through an excess of sympathy. But already she had said enough +to arouse the young man into a defender of the girl he loved. + +“I think your language quite too strong, mother,” he said, with a +reproving tone in his voice. “Miss Irving is good, gifted, amiable, +beautiful, beside being young and full of health. I am sure there could +be nothing shocking or dreadful in any man’s uniting his destiny with +such a being, in case he was fortunate enough to win her. The fact that +she is poor, and not of illustrious lineage, is but a very worldly +consideration. Mr Irving was a most intelligent and excellent man, even +if he was a grocer. The American idea of aristocracy is grotesquely +absurd at the best. A man may spend his time and strength in buying and +selling things wherewith to clothe the body, and, if he succeeds, his +children are admitted to the intimacy of princes; but no success can open +that door to the children of a man who trades in food, wherewith to +sustain the body. We can none of us afford to put on airs here in +America, with butchers and Dutch peasant traders only three or four +generations back of our ‘best families.’ As for me, mother, remember my +loved father was a broker. That would damn him in the eyes of some +people, you know, cultured gentleman as he was.” + +Mrs Stuart sat very still, breathing hard and trying to gain control of +herself for some moments after her son ceased speaking. He, too, had +said more than he intended, and he was sorry that he had hurt his +mother’s feelings as he saw her evident agitation. But as he rose to go +forward and beg her pardon, she spoke. + +“The person of whom we were speaking has nothing whatever to do with Mr +Irving,” she said. “Joy Irving was born before her mother was married. +Mrs Irving has a most infamous past, and I would rather see you dead than +the husband of her child. You certainly would not want your children to +inherit the propensities of such a grandmother? And remember the curse +descends to the third and fourth generations. If you doubt my words, go +to the Baroness. She knows the whole story, but has revealed it to no +one but me.” + +Mrs Stuart left the room, closing the door behind her as she went. She +did not want to be obliged to go over the details of the story which she +had heard; she had made her statement, one which she knew must startle +and horrify her son, with his high ideals of womanly purity, and she left +him to review the situation in silence. It was several hours before the +rector left his room. + +When he did, he went, not to the Baroness, but directly to Mrs Irving. +They were alone for more than an hour. When he emerged from the room, +his face was as white as death, and he did not look at Joy as she +accompanied him to the door. + +Two days later Mrs Irving died. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +THE congregation of St Blank’s Church was rendered sad and solicitous by +learning that its rector was on the eve of nervous prostration, and that +his physician had ordered a change of air. He went away in company with +his mother for a vacation of three months. The day after his departure +Joy Irving received a letter from him which read as follows:— + + “MY DEAR MISS IRVING,—You may not in your deep grief have given me a + thought. If such a thought has been granted one so unworthy, it must + have taken the form of surprise that your rector and friend has made + no call of condolence since death entered your household. I want to + write one little word to you, asking you to be lenient in your + judgment of me. I am ill in body and mind. I feel that I am on the + eve of some distressing malady. I am not able to reason clearly, or + to judge what is right and what is wrong. I am as one tossed between + the laws of God and the laws made by men, and bruised in heart and in + soul. I dare not see you or speak to you while I am in this state of + mind. I fear for what I may say or do. I have not slept since I + last saw you. I must go away and gain strength and equilibrium. + When I return I shall hope to be master of myself. Until then, + adieu. + + “ARTHUR EMERSON STUART.” + +These wild and incoherent phrases stirred the young girl’s heart with +intense pain and anxiety. She had known for almost a year that she loved +the young rector; she had believed that he cared for her, and without +allowing herself to form any definite thoughts of the future, she had +lived in a blissful consciousness of loving and being loved, which is to +the fulfilment of a love dream, like inhaling the perfume of a rose, +compared to the gathered flower and its attending thorns. + +The young clergyman’s absence at the time of her greatest need had caused +her both wonder and pain. His letter but increased both sentiments +without explaining the cause. + +It increased, too, her love for him, for whenever over-anxiety is aroused +for one dear to us, our love is augmented. + +She felt that the young man was in some great trouble, unknown to her, +and she longed to be able to comfort him. Into the maiden’s tender and +ardent affection stole the wifely wish to console and the motherly +impulse to protect her dear one from pain, which are strong elements in +every real woman’s love. + +Mrs Irving had died without writing one word to the Baroness; and that +personage was in a state of constant excitement until she heard of the +rector’s plans for rest and travel. Mrs Stuart informed her of the +conversation which had taken place between herself and her son; and of +his evident distress of mind, which had reacted on his body and made it +necessary for him to give up mental work for a season. + +“I feel that I owe you a debt of gratitude, dear Baroness,” Mrs Stuart +had said. “Sad as this condition of things is, imagine how much worse it +would be, had my son, through an excess of sympathy for that girl at this +time, compromised himself with her before we learned the terrible truth +regarding her birth. I feel sure my son will regain his health after a +few months’ absence, and that he will not jeopardise my happiness and his +future by any further thoughts of this unfortunate girl, who in the +meantime may not be here when we return.” + +The Baroness made a mental resolve that the girl should not be there. + +While the rector’s illness and proposed absence was sufficient evidence +that he had resolved upon sacrificing his love for Joy on the altar of +duty to his mother and his calling, yet the Baroness felt that danger +lurked in the air while Miss Irving occupied her present position. No +sooner had Mrs Stuart and her son left the city, than the Baroness sent +an anonymous letter to the young organist. It read: + + “I do not know whether your mother imparted the secret of her past + life to you before she died, but as that secret is known to several + people, it seems cruelly unjust that you are kept in ignorance of it. + You are not Mr Irving’s child. You were born before your mother + married. While it is not your fault, only your misfortune, it would + be wise for you to go where the facts are not so well known as in the + congregation of St Blank’s. There are people in that congregation + who consider you guilty of a wilful deception in wearing the name you + do, and of an affront to good taste in accepting the position you + occupy. Many people talk of leaving the church on your account. + Your gifts as a musician would win you a position elsewhere, and as I + learn that your mother’s life was insured for a considerable sum, I + am sure you are able to seek new fields where you can bide your + disgrace. + + “A WELL-WISHER.” + +Quivering with pain and terror, the young girl cast the letter into the +fire, thinking that it was the work of one of those half-crazed beings +whose mania takes the form of anonymous letters to unoffending people. +Only recently such a person had been brought into the courts for this +offence. It occurred to her also that it might be the work of someone +who wished to obtain her position as organist of St Blank’s. Musicians, +she knew, were said to be the most jealous of all people, and while she +had never suffered from them before, it might be that her time had now +come to experience the misfortunes of her profession. + +Tender-hearted and kindly in feeling to all humanity, she felt a +sickening sense of sorrow and fear at the thought that there existed such +a secret enemy for her anywhere in the world. + +She went out upon the street, and for the first time in her life she +experienced a sense of suspicion and distrust toward the people she met; +for the first time in her life, she realised that the world was not all +kind and ready to give her back the honest friendship and the sweet +good-will which filled her heart for all her kind. Strive as she would, +she could not cast off the depression caused by this vile letter. It was +her first experience of this cowardly and despicable phase of human +malice, and she felt wounded in soul as by a poisoned arrow shot in the +dark. And then, suddenly, there came to her the memory of her mother’s +words—“If unhappiness ever comes to you, read this letter.” + +Surely this was the time she needed to read that letter. That it +contained some secret of her mother’s life she felt sure, and she was +equally sure that it contained nothing that would cause her to blush for +that beloved mother. + +“Whatever the manuscript may have to reveal to me,” she said, “it is time +that I should know.” She took the package from the hiding place, and +broke the seal. Slowly she read it to the end, as if anxious to make no +error in understanding every phase of the long story it related. +Beginning with the marriage of her mother to the French professor, Berene +gave a detailed account of her own sad and troubled life, and the shadow +which the father’s appetite for drugs cast over her whole youth. “They +say,” she wrote, “that there is no personal devil in existence. I think +this is true; he has taken the form of drugs and spirituous liquors, and +so his work of devastation goes on.” Then followed the story of the +sacrilegious marriage to save her father from suicide, of her early +widowhood; and the proffer of the Baroness to give her a home. Of her +life of servitude there, her yearning for an education, and her meeting +with “Apollo,” as she designated Preston Cheney. “For truly he was like +the glory of the rising day to me, the first to give me hope, courage and +unselfish aid. I loved him, I worshipped him. He loved me, but he +strove to crush and kill this love because he had worked out an ambitious +career for himself. To extricate himself from many difficulties and +embarrassments, and to further his ambitious dreams, he betrothed himself +to the daughter of a rich and powerful man. He made no profession of +love, and she asked none. She was incapable of giving or inspiring that +holy passion. She only asked to be married. + +“I only asked to be loved. Knowing nothing of the terrible conflict in +his breast, knowing nothing of his new-made ties, I was wounded to the +soul by his speaking unkindly to me—words he forced himself to speak to +hide his real feelings. And then it was that a strange fate caused him +to find me fainting, suffering, and praying for death. The love in both +hearts could no longer be restrained. Augmented by its long control, +sharpened by the agony we had both suffered, overwhelmed by the surprise +of the meeting, we lost reason and prudence. Everything was forgotten +save our love. When it was too late I foresaw the anguish and sorrow I +must bring into this man’s life. I fear it was this thought rather than +repentance for sin which troubled me. Well may you ask why I did not +think of all this before instead of after the error was committed. Why +did not Eve realise the consequences of the fall until she had eaten of +the apple? Only afterward did I learn of the unholy ties which my lover +had formed that very day—ties which he swore to me should be broken ere +another day passed, to render him free to make me his wife in the eyes of +men, as I already was in the sight of God. + +“Yet a strange and sudden resolve came to me as I listened to him. Far +beyond the thought of my own ruin, rose the consciousness of the ruin I +should bring upon his life by allowing him to carry out his design. To +be his wife, his helpmate, chosen from the whole world as one he deemed +most worthy and most able to cheer and aid him in life’s battle—that +seemed heaven to me; but to know that by one rash, impetuous act of +folly, I had placed him in a position where he felt that honour compelled +him to marry me—why, this thought was more bitter than death. I knew +that he loved me; yet I knew, too, that by a union with me under the +circumstances he would antagonise those who were now his best and most +influential friends, and that his entire career would be ruined. I +resolved to go away; to disappear from his life and leave no trace. If +his love was as sincere as mine, he would find me; and time would show +him some wiser way for breaking his new-made fetters than the rash and +sudden method he now contemplated. He had forgotten to protect me with +his love, but I could not forget to protect him. In every true woman’s +love there is the maternal element which renders sacrifice natural. + +“Fate hastened and furthered my plans for departure. Made aware that the +Baroness was suspicious of my fault, and learning that my lover was +suddenly called to the bedside of his fiancée, I made my escape from the +town and left no trace behind. I went to that vast haystack of lost +needles—New York, and effaced Berene Dumont in Mrs Lamont. The money +left from my father’s belongings I resolved to use in cultivating my +voice. I advertised for embroidery and fine sewing also, and as I was an +expert with the needle, I was able to support myself and lay aside a +little sum each week. I trimmed hats at a small price, and added to my +income in various manners, owing to my French taste and my deft fingers. + +“I was desolate, sad, lonely, but not despairing. What woman can despair +when she knows herself loved? To me that consciousness was a far greater +source of happiness than would have been the knowledge that I was an +empress, or the wife of a millionaire, envied by the whole world. I +believed my lover would find me in time, that we should be reunited. I +believed this until I saw the announcement of his marriage in the press, +and read that he and his bride had sailed for an extended foreign tour; +but with this stunning news, there came to me the strange, sweet, +startling consciousness that you, my darling child, were coming to +console me. + +“I know that under the circumstances I ought to have been borne down to +the earth with a guilty shame; I ought to have considered you as a +punishment for my sin—and walked in the valley of humiliation and +despair. + +“But I did not. I lived in a state of mental exaltation; every thought +was a prayer, every emotion was linked with religious fervour. I was no +longer alone or friendless, for I had you. I sang as I had never sung, +and one theatrical manager, who happened to call upon my teacher during +my lesson hour, offered me a position at a good salary at once if I would +accept. + +“I could not accept, of course, knowing what the coming months were to +bring to me, but I took his card and promised to write him when I was +ready to take a position. You came into life in the depressing +atmosphere of a city hospital, my dear child, yet even there I was not +depressed, and your face wore a smile of joy the first time I gazed upon +it. So I named you Joy—and well have you worn the name. My first sorrow +was in being obliged to leave you; for I had to leave you with those +human angels, the sweet sisters of charity, while I went forth to make a +home for you. My voice, as is sometimes the case, was richer, stronger +and of greater compass after I had passed through maternity. I accepted +a position with a travelling theatrical company, where I was to sing a +solo in one act. My success was not phenomenal, but it _was_ success +nevertheless. I followed this life for three years, seeing you only at +intervals. Then the consciousness came to me that without long and +profound study I could never achieve more than a third-rate success in my +profession. + +“I had dreamed of becoming a great singer; but I learned that a voice +alone does not make a great singer. I needed years of study, and this +would necessitate the expenditure of large sums of money. I had grown +heart-sick and disgusted with the annoyances and vulgarity I was +subjected to in my position. When you were four years old a good man +offered me a good home as his wife. It was the first honest love I had +encountered, while scores of men had made a pretence of loving me during +these years. + +“I was hungering for a home where I could claim you and have the joy of +your daily companionship instead of brief glimpses of you at the +intervals of months. My voice, never properly trained, was beginning to +break. I resolved to put Mr Irving to a test; I would tell him the true +story of your birth, and if he still wished me to be his wife, I would +marry him. + +“I carried out my resolve, and we were married the day after he had heard +my story. I lived a peaceful and even happy life with Mr Irving. He was +devoted to you, and never by look, word or act, seemed to remember my +past. I, too, at times almost forgot it, so strange a thing is the human +heart under the influence of time. Imagine, then, the shock of +remembrance and the tidal wave of memories which swept over me when in +the lady you brought to call upon me I recognised—the Baroness. + +“It is because she threatened to tell you that you were not born in +wedlock that I leave this manuscript for you. It is but a few weeks +since you told me the story of Marah Adams, and assured me that you +thought her mother did right in confessing the truth to her daughter. +Little did you dream with what painful interest I listened to your views +on that subject. Little did I dream that I should so soon be called upon +to act upon them. + +“But the time is now come, and I want no strange hand to deal you a blow +in the dark; if any part of the story comes to you, I want you to know +the whole truth. You will wonder why I have not told you the name of +your father. It is strange, but from the hour I knew of his marriage, +and of your dawning life, I have felt a jealous fear lest he should ever +take you from me; even after I am gone, I would not have him know of your +existence and be unable to claim you openly. Any acquaintance between +you could only result in sorrow. + +“I have never blamed him for my past weakness, however I have blamed him +for his unholy marriage. Our fault was mutual. I was no ignorant child; +while young in years, I had sufficient knowledge of human nature to +protect myself had I used my will-power and my reason. Like many another +woman, I used neither; unlike the majority, I did not repent my sin or +its consequences. I have ever believed you to be a more divinely born +being than any children who may have resulted from my lover’s unholy +marriage. I die strong in the belief. God bless you, my dear child, and +farewell.” + +Joy sat silent and pale like one in a trance for a long time after she +had finished reading. Then she said aloud, “So I am another like Marah +Adams; it was this knowledge which caused the rector to write me that +strange letter. It was this knowledge which sent him away without coming +to say one word of adieu. The woman who sent me the message, sent it to +him also. Well, I can be as brave as my mother was. I, too, can +disappear.” + +She arose and began silently and rapidly to make preparations for a +journey. She felt a nervous haste to get away from something—from all +things. Everything stable in the world seemed to have slipped from her +hold in the last few days. Home, mother, love, and now hope and pride +were gone too. She worked for more than two hours without giving vent to +even a sigh. Then suddenly she buried her face in her hands and sobbed +aloud: “Oh, mother, mother, you were not ashamed, but I am ashamed for +you! Why was I ever born? God forgive me for the sinful thought, but I +wish you had lied to me in place of telling me the truth.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +JUST as Mrs Irving had written her story for her daughter to read, she +told it, in the main, to the rector a few days before her death. + +Only once before had the tale passed her lips; then her listener was +Horace Irving; and his only comment was to take her in his arms and place +the kiss of betrothal on her lips. Never again was the painful subject +referred to between them. So imbued had Berene Dumont become with her +belief in the legitimacy of her child, and in her own purity, that she +felt but little surprise at the calm manner in which Mr Irving received +her story, and now when the rector of St Blank’s Church was her listener, +she expected the same broad judgment to be given her. But it was the +calmness of a great and all-forgiving love which actuated Mr Irving, and +overcame all other feelings. + +Wholly unconventional in nature, caring nothing and knowing little of the +extreme ideas of orthodox society on these subjects, the girl Berene and +the woman Mrs Irving had lived a life so wholly secluded from the world +at large, so absolutely devoid of intimate friendships, so absorbed in +her own ideals, that she was incapable of understanding the conventional +opinion regarding a woman with a history like hers. + +In all those years she had never once felt a sensation of shame. Mr +Irving had requested her to rear Joy in the belief that she was his +child. As the matter could in no way concern anyone else, Mrs Irving’s +lips had remained sealed on the subject; but not with any idea of +concealing a disgrace. She could not associate disgrace with her love +for Preston Cheney. She believed herself to be his spiritual widow, as +it were. His mortal clay and legal name only belonged to his wife. + +Mr Irving had met Berene on a railroad train, and had conceived one of +those sudden and intense passions with which a woman with a past often +inspires an innocent and unworldly young man. He was sincerely and truly +religious by nature, and as spotless as a maiden in mind and body. + +When he had dreamed of a wife, it was always of some shy, innocent girl +whom he should woo almost from her mother’s arms; some gentle, pious +maid, carefully reared, who would help him to establish the Christian +household of his imagination. He had thought that love would first come +to him as admiring respect, then tender friendship, then love for some +such maiden; instead it had swooped down upon him in the form of an +intense passion for an absolute stranger—a woman travelling with a +theatrical company. He was like a sleeper who awakens suddenly and finds +a scorching midday sun beating upon his eyes. A wrecked freight train +upon the track detained for several hours the car in which they +travelled. The passengers waived ceremony and conversed to pass the +time, and Mr Irving learnt Berene’s name, occupation and destination. He +followed her for a week, and at the end of that time asked her hand in +marriage. + +Even after he had heard the story of her life, he was not deterred from +his resolve to make her his wife. All the Christian charity of his +nature, all its chivalry was aroused, and he believed he was plucking a +brand from the burning. He never repented his act. He lived wholly for +his wife and child, and for the good he could do with them as his +faithful allies. He drew more and more away from all the allurements of +the world, and strove to rear Joy in what he believed to be a purely +Christian life, and to make his wife forget, if possible, that she had +ever known a sorrow. All of sincere gratitude, tenderness, and gentle +affection possible for her to feel, Berene bestowed upon her husband +during his life, and gave to his memory after he was gone. + +Joy had been excessively fond of Mr Irving, and it was the dread of +causing her a deep sorrow in the knowledge that she was not his child, +and the fear that Preston Cheney would in any way interfere with her +possession of Joy, which had distressed the mother during the visit of +the Baroness, rather than unwillingness to have her sin revealed to her +daughter. Added to this, the intrusion of the Baroness into this long +hidden and sacred experience seemed a sacrilege from which she shrank +with horror. But she now told the tale to Arthur Stuart frankly and +fearlessly. + +He had asked her to confide to him whatever secret existed regarding +Joy’s birth. + +“There is a rumour afloat,” he said, “that Joy is not Mr Irving’s child. +I love your daughter, Mrs Irving, and I feel it is my right to know all +the circumstances of her life. I believe the story which was told my +mother to be the invention of some enemy who is jealous of Joy’s beauty +and talents, and I would like to be in a position to silence these +slanders.” + +So Mrs Irving told the story to the end; and having told it, she felt +relieved and happy in the thought that it was imparted to the only two +people whom it could concern in the future. + +No disturbing fear came to her that the rector would hesitate to make Joy +his wife. To Berene Dumont, love was the law. If love existed between +two souls she could not understand why any convention of society should +stand in the way of its fulfilment. + +Arthur Stuart in his rôle of spiritual confessor and consoler had never +before encountered such a phase of human nature. He had listened to many +a tale of sin and folly from women’s lips, but always had the sinner +bemoaned her sin, and bitterly repented her weakness. Here instead was +what the world would consider a fallen woman, who on her deathbed +regarded her weakness as her strength, her shame as her glory, and who +seemed to expect him to take the same view of the matter. When he +attempted to urge her to repent, the words stuck in his throat. He left +the deathbed of the unfortunate sinner without having expressed one of +the conflicting emotions which filled his heart. But he left it with +such a weight on his soul, such distress on his mind that death seemed to +him the only way of escape from a life of torment. + +His love for Joy Irving was not killed by the story he had heard. But it +had received a terrible shock, and the thought of making her his wife +with the probability that the Baroness would spread the scandal +broadcast, and that his marriage would break his mother’s heart, tortured +him. Added to this were his theories on heredity, and the fear that +there might, nay, must be, some dangerous tendency hidden in the daughter +of a mother who had so erred, and who in dying showed no comprehension of +the enormity of her sin. Had Mrs Irving bewailed her fall, and +represented herself as the victim of a wily villain, the rector would not +have felt so great a fear of the daughter’s inheritance. A frail, +repentant woman he could pity and forgive, but it seemed to him that Mrs +Irving was utterly lacking in moral nature. She was spiritually blind. +The thought tortured him. To leave Joy at this time without calling to +see her seemed base and cowardly; yet he dared not trust himself in her +presence. So he sent her the strangely worded letter, and went away +hoping to be shown the path of duty before he returned. + +At the end of three months he came home stronger in body and mind. He +had resolved to compromise with fate; to continue his calls upon Joy +Irving; to be her friend and rector only, until by the passage of time, +and the changes which occur so rapidly in every society, the scandal in +regard to her birth had been forgotten. And until by patience and +tenderness, he won his mother’s consent to the union. He felt that all +this must come about as he desired, if he did not aggravate his mother’s +feeling or defy public opinion by too precipitate methods. + +He could not wholly give up all thoughts of Joy Irving. She had grown to +be a part of his hopes and dreams of the future, as she was a part of the +reality of his present. But she was very young; he could afford to wait, +and while he waited to study the girl’s character, and if he saw any +budding shoot which bespoke the maternal tree, to prune and train it to +his own liking. For the sake of his unborn children he felt it his duty +to carefully study any woman he thought to make his wife. + +But when he reached home, the surprising intelligence awaited him that +Miss Irving had left the metropolis. A brief note to the church +authorities, resigning her position, and saying that she was about to +leave the city, was all that anyone knew of her. + +The rector instituted a quiet search, but only succeeded in learning that +she had conducted her preparations for departure with the greatest +secrecy, and that to no one had she imparted her plans. + +Whenever a young woman shrouds her actions in the garments of secrecy, +she invites suspicion. The people who love to suspect their +fellow-beings of wrong-doing were not absent on this occasion. + +The rector was hurt and wounded by all this, and while he resented the +intimation from another that Miss Irving’s conduct had been peculiar and +mysterious, he felt it to be so in his own heart. + +“Is it her mother’s tendency to adventure developing in her?” he asked +himself. + +Yet he wrote her a letter, directing it to her at the old number, +thinking she would at least leave her address with the post-office for +the forwarding of mail. The letter was returned to him from that +cemetery of many a dear hope, the dead-letter office. A personal in a +leading paper failed to elicit a reply. And then one day six months +after the disappearance of Joy Irving, the young rector was called to the +Cheney household to offer spiritual consolation to Miss Alice, who +believed herself to be dying. She had been in a decline ever since the +rector went away for his health. + +Since his return she had seen him but seldom, rarely save in the pulpit, +and for the last six weeks she had been too ill to attend divine service. + +It was Preston Cheney himself, at home upon one of his periodical visits, +who sent for the rector, and gravely met him at the door when he arrived, +and escorted him into his study. + +“I am very anxious about my daughter,” he said. “She has been a nervous +child always, and over-sensitive. I returned yesterday after an absence +of some three months in California, to find Alice in bed, wasted to a +shadow, and constantly weeping. I cannot win her confidence—she has +never confided to me. Perhaps it is my fault; perhaps I have not been at +home enough to make her realise that the relationship of father and +daughter is a sacred one. This morning when I was urging her to tell me +what grieved her, she remarked that there was but one person to whom she +could communicate this sorrow—her rector. So, my dear Dr Stuart, I have +sent for you. I will conduct you to my child, and I leave her in your +hands. Whatever comfort and consolation you can offer, I know will be +given. I hope she will not bind you to secrecy; I hope you may be able +to tell me what troubles her, and advise me how to help her.” + +It was more than an hour before the rector returned to the library where +Preston Cheney awaited him. When the senator heard his approaching step, +he looked up, and was startled to see the pallor on the young man’s face. +“You have something sad, something terrible to tell me!” he cried. “What +is it?” + +The rector walked across the room several times, breathing deeply, and +with anguish written on his countenance. Then he took Senator Cheney’s +hand and wrung it. “I have an embarrassing announcement to make to you,” +he said. “It is something so surprising, so unexpected, that I am +completely unnerved.” + +“You alarm me, more and more,” the senator answered. “What can be the +secret which my frail child has imparted to you that should so distress +you? Speak; it is my right to know.” + +The rector took another turn about the room, and then came and stood +facing Senator Cheney. + +“Your daughter has conceived a strange passion for me,” he said in a low +voice. “It is this which has caused her illness, and which she says will +cause her death, if I cannot return it.” + +“And you?” asked his listener after a moment’s silence. + +“I? Why, I have never thought of your daughter in any such manner,” the +young man replied. “I have never dreamed of loving her, or winning her +love.” + +“Then do not marry her,” Preston Cheney said quietly. “Marriage without +love is unholy. Even to save life it is unpardonable.” + +The rector was silent, and walked the room with nervous steps. “I must +go home and think it all out,” he said after a time. “Perhaps Miss +Cheney will find her grief less, now that she has imparted it to me. I +am alarmed at her condition, and I shall hope for an early report from +you regarding her.” + +The report was made twelve hours later. Miss Cheney was delirious, and +calling constantly for the rector. Her physician feared the worst. + +The rector came, and his presence at once soothed the girl’s delirium. + +“History repeats itself,” said Preston Cheney meditatively to himself. +“Alice is drawing this man into the net by her alarming physical +condition, as Mabel riveted the chains about me when her mother died. + +“But Alice really loves the rector, I think, and she is capable of a much +stronger passion than her mother ever felt; and the rector loves no other +woman at least, and so this marriage, if it takes place, will not be so +wholly wicked and unholy as mine was.” + +The marriage did take place three months later. Alice Cheney was not the +wife whom Mrs Stuart would have chosen for her son, yet she urged him to +this step, glad to place a barrier for all time between him and Joy +Irving, whose possible return at any day she constantly feared, and whose +power over her son’s heart she knew was undiminished. + +Alice Cheney’s family was of the best on both sides; there were wealth, +station, and honour; and a step-grandmamma who could be referred to on +occasions as “The Baroness.” And there was no skeleton to be hidden or +excused. + +And Arthur Stuart, believing that Alice Cheney’s life and reason depended +upon his making her his wife, resolved to end the bitter struggle with +his own heart and with fate, and do what seemed to be his duty, toward +the girl and toward his mother. When the wedding took place, the saddest +face at the ceremony, save that of the groom, was the face of the bride’s +father. But the bride was radiant, and Mabel and the Baroness walked in +clouds. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +ALICE did not rally in health or spirits after her marriage, as her +family, friends and physician had anticipated. She remained nervous, +ailing and despondent. + +“Should maternity come to her, she would doubtless be very much improved +in health afterward,” the doctor said, and Mabel, remembering how true a +similar prediction proved in her case, despite her rebellion against it, +was not sorry when she knew that Alice was to become a mother, scarcely a +year after her marriage. + +But Alice grew more and more despondent as the months passed by; and +after the birth of her son, the young mother developed dementia of the +most hopeless kind. The best specialists in two worlds were employed to +bring her out of the state of settled melancholy into which she had +fallen, but all to no avail. At the end of two years, her case was +pronounced hopeless. Fortunately the child died at the age of six weeks, +so the seed of insanity which in the first Mrs Lawrence was simply a case +of “nerves,” growing into the plant hysteria in Mabel, and yielding the +deadly fruit of insanity in Alice, was allowed by a kind providence to +become extinct in the fourth generation. + +This disaster to his only child caused a complete breaking down of spirit +and health in Preston Cheney. + +Like some great, strongly coupled car, which loses its grip and goes +plunging down an incline to destruction, Preston Cheney’s will-power lost +its hold on life, and he went down to the valley of death with frightful +speed. + +During the months which preceded his death, Senator Cheney’s only +pleasure seemed to be in the companionship of his son-in-law. The strong +attachment between the two men ripened with every day’s association. One +day the rector was sitting by the invalid’s couch, reading aloud, when +Preston Cheney laid his hand on the young man’s arm and said: “Close your +book and let me tell you a true story which is stranger than fiction. It +is the story of an ambitious man and all the disasters which his realised +ambition brought into the lives of others. It is a story whose details +are known to but two beings on earth, if indeed the other being still +exists on earth. I have long wanted to tell you this story—indeed, I +wanted to tell it to you before you made Alice your wife, yet the fear +that I would be wrecking the life and reason of my child kept me silent. +No doubt if I had told you, and you had been influenced by my experience +against a loveless marriage, I should to-day be blaming myself for her +condition, which I see plainly now is but the culmination of three +generations of hysterical women. But I want to tell you the story and +urge you to use it as a warning in your position of counsellor and friend +of ambitious young men. + +“No matter what else a man may do for position, don’t let him marry a +woman he does not love, especially if he crucifies a vital passion for +another, in order to do this.” Then Preston Cheney told the story of his +life to his son-in-law; and as the tale proceeded, a strange interest +which increased until it became violent excitement, took possession of +the rector’s brain and heart. The story was so familiar—so very +familiar; and at length, when the name of _Berene Dumont_ escaped the +speaker’s lips, Arthur Stuart clutched his hands and clenched his teeth +to keep silent until the end of the story came. + +“From the hour Berene disappeared, to this very day, no word or message +ever came from her,” the invalid said. “I have never known whether she +was dead or alive, married, or, terrible thought, perhaps driven into a +reckless life by her one false step with me. This last fear has been a +constant torture to me all these years. + +“The world is cruel in its judgment of woman. And yet I know that it is +woman herself who has shaped the opinions of the world regarding these +matters. If men had had their way since the world began, there would be +no virtuous women. Woman has realised this fact, and she has in +consequence walled herself about with rules and conventions which have in +a measure protected her from man. When any woman breaks through these +conventions and errs, she suffers the scorn of others who have kept these +self-protecting and society-protecting laws; and, conscious of their +scorn, she believes all hope is lost for ever. + +“The fear that Berene took this view of her one mistake, and plunged into +a desperate life, has embittered my whole existence. Never before did a +man suffer such a mental hell as I have endured for this one act of sin +and weakness. Yet the world, looking at my life of success, would say if +it knew the story, ‘Behold how the man goes free.’ Free! Great God! +there is no bondage so terrible as that of the mind. I have loved Berene +Dumont with a changeless passion for twenty-three years, and there has +not been a day in all that time that I have not during some hours endured +the agonies of the damned, thinking of all the disasters and misery that +might have come into her life through me. Heaven knows I would have +married her if she had remained. Strange and intricate as the net was +which the devil wove about me when I had furnished the cords, I could and +would have broken through it after that strange night—at once the heaven +and the hell of my memory—if Berene had remained. As it was—I married +Mabel, and you know what a farce, ending in a tragedy, our married life +has been. God grant that no worse woes befell Berene; God grant that I +may meet her in the spirit world and tell her how I loved her and longed +for her companionship.” + +The young rector’s eyes were streaming with tears, as he reached over and +clasped the sick man’s hands in his. “You will meet her,” he said with a +choked voice. “I heard this same story, but without names, from Berene +Dumont’s dying lips more than two years ago. And just as Berene +disappeared from you—so her daughter disappeared from me; and, God help +me, dear father—doubly now my father, I crushed out my great passion for +the glorious natural child of your love, to marry the loveless, wretched +and _unnatural_ child of your marriage.” + +The sick man started up on his couch, his eyes flaming, his cheeks +glowing with sudden lustre. + +“My child—the natural child of Berene’s love and mine, you say; oh, my +God, speak and tell me what you mean; speak before I die of joy so +terrible it is like anguish.” + +So then it became the rector’s turn to take the part of narrator. When +the story was ended, Preston Cheney lay weeping like a woman on his +couch; the first tears he had shed since his mother died and left him an +orphan of ten. + +“Berene living and dying almost within reach of my arms—almost within +sound of my voice!” he cried. “Oh, why did I not find her before the +grave closed between us?—and why did no voice speak from that grave to +tell me when I held my daughter’s hand in mine?—my beautiful child, no +wonder my heart went out to her with such a gush of tenderness; no wonder +I was fired with unaccountable anger and indignation when Mabel and Alice +spoke unkindly of her. Do you remember how her music stirred me? It was +her mother’s heart speaking to mine through the genius of our child. + +“Arthur, you must find her—you must find her for me! If it takes my +whole fortune I must see my daughter, and clasp her in my arms before I +die.” + +But this happiness was not to be granted to the dying man. Overcome by +the excitement of this new emotion, he grew weaker and weaker as the next +few days passed, and at the end of the fifth day his spirit took its +flight, let us hope to join its true mate. + +It had been one of his dying requests to have his body taken to +Beryngford and placed beside that of Judge Lawrence. + +The funeral services took place in the new and imposing church edifice +which had been constructed recently in Beryngford. The quiet interior +village had taken a leap forward during the last few years, and was now a +thriving city, owing to the discovery of valuable stone quarries in its +borders. + +The Baroness and Mabel had never been in Beryngford since the death of +Judge Lawrence many years before; and it was with sad and bitter hearts +that both women recalled the past and realised anew the disasters which +had wrecked their dearest hopes and ambitions. + +The Baroness, broken in spirit and crushed by the insanity of her beloved +Alice, now saw the form of the man whom she had hopelessly loved for so +many years, laid away to crumble back to dust; and yet, the sorrows which +should have softened her soul, and made her heart tender toward all +suffering humanity, rendered her pitiless as the grave toward one lonely +and desolate being before the shadows of night had fallen upon the grave +of Preston Cheney. + +When the funeral march pealed out from the grand new organ during the +ceremonies in the church, both the Baroness and the rector, absorbed as +they were in mournful sorrow, started with surprise. Both gazed at the +organ loft; and there, before the great instrument, sat the graceful +figure of Joy Irving. The rector’s face grew pale as the corpse in the +casket; the withered cheek of the Baroness turned a sickly yellow, and a +spark of anger dried the moisture in her eyes. + +Before the night had settled over the thriving city of Beryngford, the +Baroness dropped a point of virus from the lancet of her tongue to poison +the social atmosphere where Joy Irving had by the merest accident of fate +made her new home, and where in the office of organist she had, without +dreaming of her dramatic situation, played the requiem at the funeral of +her own father. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +JOY IRVING had come to Beryngford at the time when the discoveries of the +quarries caused that village to spring into sudden prominence as a +growing city. Newspaper accounts of the building of the new church, and +the purchase of a large pipe organ, chanced to fall under her eye just as +she was planning to leave the scene of her unhappiness. + +“I can at least only fail if I try for the position of organist there,” +she said, “and if I succeed in this interior town, I can hide myself from +all the world without incurring heavy expense.” + +So all unconsciously Joy fled from the metropolis to the very place from +which her mother had vanished twenty-two years before. + +She had been the organist in the grand new Episcopalian Church now for +three years; and she had made many cordial acquaintances who would have +become near friends, if she had encouraged them. But Joy’s sweet and +trustful nature had received a great shock in the knowledge of the shadow +which hung about her birth. Where formerly she had expected love and +appreciation from everyone she met, she now shrank from forming new ties, +lest new hurts should await her. + +She was like a flower in whose perfect heart a worm had coiled. Her +entire feeling about life had undergone a change. For many weeks after +her self-imposed exile, she had been unable to think of her mother +without a mingled sense of shame and resentment; the adoring love she had +borne this being seemed to die with her respect. After a time the +bitterness of this sentiment wore away, and a pitying tenderness and +sorrow took its place; but from her heart the twin angels, Love and +Forgiveness, were absent. She read her mother’s manuscript over, and +tried to argue herself into the philosophy which had sustained the author +of her being through all these years. + +But her mind was shaped far more after the conventional pattern of her +paternal ancestors, who had been New England Puritans, and she could not +view the subject as Berene had viewed it. + +In spite of the ideality which her mother had woven about him, Joy +entertained the most bitter contempt for the unknown man who was her +father, and the whole tide of her affections turned lavishly upon the +memory of Mr Irving, whom she felt now more than ever so worthy of her +regard. + +Reason as she would on the supremacy of love over law, yet the bold, +unpleasant fact remained that she was the child of an unwedded mother. +She shrank in sensitive pain from having this story follow her, and the +very consciousness that her mother’s experience had been an exceptional +one, caused her the greater dread of having it known and talked of as a +common vulgar liaison. + +There are two things regarding which the world at large never asks any +questions—namely, How a rich man made his money, and how an erring woman +came to fall. It is enough for the world to know that he is rich—that +fact alone opens all doors to him, as the fact that the woman has erred +closes them to her. + +There was a common vulgar creature in Beryngford, whose many amours and +bold defiance of law and order rendered her name a synonym for indecency. +This woman had begun her career in early girlhood as a mercenary +intriguer; and yet Joy Irving knew that the majority of people would make +small distinctions between the conduct of this creature and that of her +mother, were the facts of Berene’s life and her own birth to be made +public. + +The fear that the story would follow her wherever she went became an +absolute dread with her, and caused her to live alone and without +companions, in the midst of people who would gladly have become her warm +friends, had she permitted. + +Her book of “Impressions” reflected the changes which had taken place in +the complexion of her mind during these years. Among its entries were +the following:— + + People talk about following a divine law of love, when they wish to + excuse their brute impulses and break social and civil codes. + + No love is sanctioned by God, which shatters human hearts. + + Fathers are only distantly related to their children; love for the + male parent is a matter of education. + + The devil macadamises all his pavements. + + A natural child has no place in an unnatural world. + + When we cannot respect our parents, it is difficult to keep our ideal + of God. + + Love is a mushroom, and lust is its poisonous counterpart. + + It is a pity that people who despise civilisation should be so + uncivil as to stay in it. There is always darkest Africa. + + The extent of a man’s gallantry depends on the goal. He follows the + good woman to the borders of Paradise and leaves her with a polite + bow; but he follows the bad woman to the depths of hell. + + It is easy to trust in God until he permits us to suffer. The + dentist seems a skilled benefactor to mankind when we look at his + sign from the street. When we sit in his chair he seems a brute, + armed with devil’s implements. + + An anonymous letter is the bastard of a diseased mind. + + An envious woman is a spark from Purgatory. + + The consciousness that we have anything to hide from the world + stretches a veil between our souls and heaven. We cannot reach up to + meet the gaze of God, when we are afraid to meet the eyes of men. + + It may be all very well for two people to make their own laws, but + they have no right to force a third to live by them. + + Virtue is very secretive about her payments, but the whole world + hears of it when vice settles up. + + We have a sublime contempt for public opinion theoretically so long + as it favours us. When it turns against us we suffer intensely from + the loss of what we claimed to despise. + + When the fruit must apologise for the tree, we do not care to save + the seed. + + It is only when God and man have formed a syndicate and agreed upon + their laws, that marriage is a safe investment. + + The love that does not protect its object would better change its + name. + + When we say _of_ people what we would not say _to_ them, we are + either liars or cowards. + + The enmity of some people is the greatest compliment they can pay us. + +It was in thoughts like these that Joy relieved her heart of some of the +bitterness and sorrow which weighed upon it. And day after day she bore +about with her the dread of having the story of her mother’s sin known in +her new home. + +As our fears, like our wishes, when strong and unremitting, prove to be +magnets, the result of Joy’s despondent fears came in the scandal which +the Baroness had planted and left to flourish and grow in Beryngford +after her departure. An hour before the services began, on the day of +Preston Cheney’s burial, Joy learned at whose rites she was to officiate +as organist. A pang of mingled emotions shot through her heart at the +sound of his name. She had seen this man but a few times, and spoken +with him but once; yet he had left a strong impression upon her memory. +She had felt drawn to him by his sympathetic face and atmosphere, the +sorrow of his kind eyes, and the keen appreciation he had shown in her +art; and just in the measure that she had been attracted by him, she had +been repelled by the three women to whom she was presented at the same +time. She saw them all again mentally, as she had seen them on that and +many other days. Mrs Cheney and Alice, with their fretful, plain, +dissatisfied faces, and their over-burdened costumes, and the Baroness, +with her cruel heart gazing through her worn mask of defaced beauty. + +She had been conscious of a feeling of overwhelming pity for the kind, +attractive man who made the fourth of that quartette. She knew that he +had obtained honours and riches from life, but she pitied him for his +home environment. She had felt so thankful for her own happy home life +at the time; and she remembered, too, the sweet hope that lay like a +closed-up bud in the bottom of her heart that day, as the quartette moved +away and left her standing alone with Arthur Stuart. + +It was only a few weeks later that the end came to all her dreams, +through that terrible anonymous letter. + +It was the Baroness who had sent it, she knew—the Baroness whose early +hatred for her mother had descended to the child. “And now I must sit in +the same house with her again,” she said, “and perhaps meet her face to +face; and she may tell the story here of my mother’s shame, even as I +have felt and feared it must yet be told. How strange that a ‘love +child’ should inspire so much hatred!” + +Joy had carefully refrained from reading New York papers ever since she +left the city; and she had no correspondents. It was her wish and desire +to utterly sink and forget the past life there. Therefore she knew +nothing of Arthur Stuart’s marriage to the daughter of Preston Cheney. +She thought of the rector as dead to her. She believed he had given her +up because of the stain upon her birth, and, bitter as the pain had been, +she never blamed him. She had fought with her love for him and believed +that it was buried in the grave of all other happy memories. + +But as the earth is wrenched open by volcanic eruptions and long buried +corpses are revealed again to the light of day, so the unexpected sight +of Arthur Stuart, as he took his place beside Mabel and the Baroness +during the funeral services, revealed all the pent-up passion of her +heart to her own frightened soul. + +To strong natures, the greater the inward excitement the more quiet the +exterior; and Jay passed through the services, and performed her duties, +without betraying to those about her the violent emotions under which she +laboured. + +The rector of Beryngford Church requested her to remain for a few +moments, and consult with him on a matter concerning the next week’s +musical services. It was from him Joy learned the relation which Arthur +Stuart bore to the dead man, and that Beryngford was the former home of +the Baroness. + +Her mother’s manuscript had carefully avoided all mention of names of +people or places. Yet Joy realised now that she must be living in the +very scene of her mother’s early life; she longed to make inquiries, but +was prevented by the fear that she might hear her mother’s name mentioned +disrespectfully. + +The days that followed were full of sharp agony for her. It was not +until long afterward that she was able to write her “impressions” of that +experience. In the extreme hour of joy or agony we formulate no +impressions; we only feel. We neither analyse nor describe our friends +or enemies when face to face with them, but after we leave their +presence. When the day came that she could write, some of her +reflections were thus epitomised: + + Love which rises from the grave to comfort us, possesses more of the + demons’ than the angels’ power. It terrifies us with its + supernatural qualities and deprives us temporarily of our reason. + + Suppressed steam and suppressed emotion are dangerous things to deal + with. + + The infant who wants its mother’s breast, and the woman who wants her + lover’s arms, are poor subjects to reason with. Though you tell the + former that fever has poisoned the mother’s milk, or the latter that + destruction lies in the lover’s embrace, one heeds you no more than + the other. + + The accumulated knowledge of ages is sometimes revealed by a kiss. + Where wisdom is bliss, it is folly to be ignorant. + + Some of us have to crucify our hearts before we find our souls. + + A woman cannot fully know charity until she has met passion; but too + intimate an acquaintance with the latter destroys her appreciation of + all the virtues. + + To feel temptation and resist it, renders us liberal in our judgment + of all our kind. To yield to it, fills us with suspicion of all. + + There is an ecstatic note in pain which is never reached in + happiness. + + The death of a great passion is a terrible thing, unless the dawn of + a greater truth shines on the grave. + + Love ought to have no past tense. + + Love partakes of the feline nature. It has nine lives. + + It seems to be difficult for some of us to distinguish between + looseness of views, and charitable judgments. To be sorry for + people’s sins and follies and to refuse harsh criticism is right; to + accept them as a matter of course is wrong. + + Love and sorrow are twins, and knowledge is their nurse. + + The pathway of the soul is not a steady ascent, but hilly and broken. + We must sometimes go lower, in order to get higher. + + That which is to-day, and will be to-morrow, must have been + yesterday. I know that I live, I believe that I shall live again, + and have lived before. + + Earth life is the middle rung of a long ladder which we climb in the + dark. Though we cannot see the steps below, or above, they exist all + the same. + + The materialist denying spirit is like the burr of the chestnut + denying the meat within. + + The inevitable is always right. + + Prayer is a skeleton key that opens unexpected doors. We may not + find the things we came to seek, but we find other treasures. + + The pessimist belongs to God’s misfit counter. + + Art, when divorced from Religion, always becomes a wanton. + + To forget benefits we have received is a crime. To remember benefits + we have bestowed is a greater one. + + To some men a woman is a valuable book, carefully studied and + choicely guarded behind glass doors. To others, she is a daily + paper, idly scanned and tossed aside. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +WHILE Joy battled with her sorrow during the days following Preston +Cheney’s burial, she woke to the consciousness that her history was known +in Beryngford. The indescribable change in the manner of her +acquaintances, the curiosity in the eyes of some, the insolence or +familiarity of others, all told her that her fears were realised; and +then there came a letter from the church authorities requesting her to +resign her position as organist. + +This letter came to the young girl on one of those dreary autumn nights +when all the desolation of the dying summer, and none of the exhilaration +of the approaching winter, is in the air. She had been labouring all day +under a cloud of depression which hovered over her heart and brain and +threatened to wholly envelop her; and the letter from the church +committee cut her heart like a poniard stroke. Sometimes we are able to +bear a series of great disasters with courage and equanimity, while we +utterly collapse under some slight misfortune. Joy had been a heroine in +her great sorrows, but now in the undeserved loss of her position as +church organist, she felt herself unable longer to cope with Fate. + +“There’s no place for me anywhere,” she said to herself. Had she known +the truth, that the Baroness had represented her to the committee as a +fallen woman of the metropolis, who had left the city for the city’s +good, the letter would not have seemed to her so cruelly unjust and +unjustifiable. + +Bitter as had been her suffering at the loss of Arthur Stuart from her +life, she had found it possible to understand his hesitation to make her +his wife. With his fine sense of family pride, and his reverence for the +estate of matrimony, his belief in heredity, it seemed quite natural to +her that he should be shocked at the knowledge of the conditions under +which she was born; and the thought that her disappearance from his life +was helping him to solve a painful problem, had at times, before this +unexpected sight of him, rendered her almost happy in her lonely exile. +She had grown strangely fond of Beryngford—of the old streets and homes +which she knew must have been familiar to her mother’s eyes, of the new +church whose glorious voiced organ gave her so many hours of comfort and +relief of soul, of the tiny apartment where she and her heart communed +together. She was catlike in her love of places, and now she must tear +herself away from all these surroundings and seek some new spot wherein +to hide herself and her sorrows. + +It was like tearing up a half-rooted flower, already drooping from one +transplanting. She said to herself that she could never survive another +change. She read the letter over which lay in her hand, and tears began +to slowly well from her eyes. Joy seldom wept; but now it seemed to her +she was some other person, who stood apart and wept tears of sympathy for +this poor girl, Joy Irving, whose life was so hemmed about with troubles, +none of which were of her own making; and then, like a dam which suddenly +gives way and allows a river to overflow, a great storm of sobs shook her +frame, and she wept as she had never wept before; and with her tears +there came rushing back to her heart all the old love and sorrow for the +dead mother which had so long been hidden under her burden of shame; and +all the old passion and longing for the man whose insane wife she knew to +be a more hopeless obstacle between them than this mother’s history had +proven. + +“Mother, Arthur, pity me, pity me!” she cried. “I am all alone, and the +strife is so terrible. I have never meant to harm any living thing! +Mother Arthur, _God_, how can you all desert me so?” + +At last, exhausted, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. + +She awoke the following morning with an aching head, and a heart wherein +all emotions seemed dead save a dull despair. She was conscious of only +one wish, one desire—a longing to sit again in the organ loft, and pour +forth her soul in one last farewell to that instrument which had grown to +seem her friend, confidant and lover. + +She battled with her impulse as unreasonable and unwise, till the day was +well advanced. But it grew stronger with each hour; and at last she set +forth under a leaden sky and through a dreary November rain to the +church. + +Her head throbbed with pain, and her hands were hot and feverish, as she +seated herself before the organ and began to play. But with the first +sounds responding to her touch, she ceased to think of bodily discomfort. + +The music was the voice of her own soul, uttering to God all its +desolation, its anguish and its despair. Then suddenly, with no seeming +volition of her own, it changed to a passion of human love, human desire; +the sorrow of separation, the strife with the emotions, the agony of +renunciation were all there; and the November rain, beating in wild gusts +against the window-panes behind the musician, lent a fitting +accompaniment to the strains. + +She had been playing for perhaps an hour, when a sudden exhaustion seized +upon her, and her hands fell nerveless and inert upon her lap; she +dropped her chin upon her breast and closed her eyes. She was drunken +with her own music. + +When she opened them again a few moments later, they fell upon the face +of Arthur Stuart, who stood a few feet distant regarding her with haggard +eyes. Unexpected and strange as his presence was, Joy felt neither +surprise nor wonder. She had been thinking of him so intensely, he had +been so interwoven with the music she had been playing, that his bodily +presence appeared to her as a natural result. He was the first to speak; +and when he spoke she noticed that his voice sounded hoarse and broken, +and that his face was drawn and pale. + +“I came to Beryngford this morning expressly to see you, Joy,” he said. +“I have many things to say to you. I went to your residence and was told +by the maid that I would find you here. I followed, as you see. We have +had many meetings in church edifices, in organ lofts. It seems natural +to find you in such a place, but I fear it will be unnatural and +unfitting to say to you here, what I came to say. Shall we return to +your home?” + +His eyes shone strangely from dusky caverns, and there were deep lines +about his mouth. + +“He, too, has suffered,” thought Joy; “I have not borne it all alone.” +Then she said aloud: + +“We are quite undisturbed here; I know of nothing I could listen to in my +room which I could not hear you say in this place. Go on.” + +He looked at her silently for a moment, his cheeks pale, his breast +heaving. Before he came to Beryngford, he had fought his battle between +religion and human passion, and passion had won. He had cast under his +feet every principle and tradition in which he had been reared, and +resolved to live alone henceforth for the love and companionship of one +human being, could he obtain her consent to go with him. + +Yet for the moment, he hesitated to speak the words he had resolved to +utter, under the roof of a house of God, so strong were the influences of +his early training and his habits of thought. But as his eyes feasted +upon the face before him, his hesitation vanished, and he leaned toward +her and spoke. “Joy,” he said, “three years ago I went away and left you +in sorrow, alone, because I was afraid to brave public opinion, afraid to +displease my mother and ask you to be my wife. The story your mother +told me of your birth, a story she left in manuscript for you to read, +made a social coward of me. I was afraid to take a girl born out of +wedlock to be my life companion, the mother of my children. Well, I +married a girl born in wedlock; and where is my companion?” He paused +and laughed recklessly. Then he went on hurriedly: “She is in an asylum +for the insane. I am chained to a corpse for life. I had not enough +moral courage three-years ago to make you my wife. But I have moral +courage enough now to come here and ask you to go with me to Australia, +and begin a new life together. My mother died a year ago. I donned the +surplice at her bidding. I will abandon it at the bidding of Love. I +sinned against heaven in marrying a woman I did not love. I am willing +to sin against the laws of man by living with the woman I do love; will +you go with me, Joy?” There was silence save for the beating of the rain +against the stained window, and the wailing of the wind. + +Joy was in a peculiarly overwrought condition of mind and body. Her +hours of extravagant weeping the previous night, followed by a day of +fasting, left her nervous system in a state to be easily excited by the +music she had been playing. She was virtually intoxicated with sorrow +and harmony. She was incapable of reasoning, and conscious only of two +things—that she must leave Beryngford, and that the man whom she had +loved with her whole heart for five years, was asking her to go with him; +to be no more homeless, unloved, and alone, but his companion while life +should last. + +“Answer me, Joy,” he was pleading. “Answer me.” + +She moved toward the stairway that led down to the street door; and as +she flitted by him, she said, looking him full in the eyes with a slow, +grave smile, “Yes, Arthur, I will go with you.” + +He sprang toward her with a wild cry of joy, but she was already flying +down the stairs and out upon the street. + +When he joined her, they walked in silence through the rain to her door, +neither speaking a word, until he would have followed her within. Then +she laid her hand upon his shoulder and said gently but firmly: “Not now, +Arthur; we must not see each other again until we go away. Write me +where to meet you, and I will join you within twenty-four hours. Do not +urge me—you must obey me this once—afterward I will obey you. +Good-night.” + +As she closed the door upon him, he said, “Oh, Joy, I have so much to +tell you. I promised your father when he was dying that I would find +you; I swore to myself that when I found you I would never leave you, +save at your own command. I go now, only because you bid me go. When we +meet again, there must be no more parting; and you shall hear a story +stranger than the wildest fiction—the story of your father’s life. +Despite your mother’s secretiveness regarding this portion of her +history, the knowledge has come to me in the most unexpected manner, from +the lips of the man himself.” + +Joy listened dreamily to the words he was saying. Her father—she was to +know who her father was? Well, it did not matter much to her now—father, +mother, what were they, what was anything save the fact that he had come +back to her and that he loved her? + +She smiled silently into his eyes. Glance became entangled with glance, +and would not be separated. + +He pushed open the almost closed door and she felt herself enveloped with +arms and lips. + +A second later she stood alone, leaning dizzily against the door; heart, +brain and blood in a mad riot of emotion. + +Then she fell into a chair and covered her burning face with her hands as +she whispered, “Mother, mother, forgive me—I understand—I understand.” + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +THE first shock of the awakened emotions brings recklessness to some +women, and to others fear. + +The more frivolous plunge forward like the drunken man who leaps from the +open window believing space is water. + +The more intense draw back, startled at the unknown world before them. + +The woman who thinks love is all ideality is more liable to follow into +undreamed-of chasms than she who, through the complexity of her own +emotions, realises its grosser elements. + +It was long after midnight when Joy fell into a heavy sleep, the night of +Arthur Stuart’s visit. She heard the drip of the dreary November rain +upon the roof, and all the light and warmth seemed stricken from the +universe save the fierce fire in her own heart. + +When she woke in the late morning, great splashes of sunlight were +leaping and quivering like living things across the foot of her bed; she +sprang up, dazed for a moment by the flood of light in the room, and went +to the window and looked out upon a sun-kissed world smiling in the arms +of a perfect Indian summer day. + +A happy little sparrow chirped upon the window sill, and some children +ran across the street bare-headed, exulting in the soft air. All was +innocence and sweetness. Mind and morals are greatly influenced by +weather. Many things seem right in the fog and gloom, which we know to +be wrong in the clear light of a sunny morning. The events of the +previous day came back to Joy’s mind as she stood by the window, and +stirred her with a sense of strangeness and terror. The thought of the +step she had resolved to take brought a sudden trembling to her limbs. +It seemed to her the eyes of God were piercing into her heart, and she +was afraid. + +Joy had from her early girlhood been an earnest and sincere follower of +the Christian religion. The embodiment of love and sympathy herself, it +was natural for her to believe in the God of Love and to worship Him in +outward forms, as well as in her secret soul. It was the deep and +earnest fervour of religion in her heart, which rendered her music so +unusual and so inspiring. There never was, is not and never can be +greatness in any art where religious feeling is lacking. + +There must be the consciousness of the Infinite, in the mind which +produces infinite results. + +Though the artist be gifted beyond all other men, though he toil +unremittingly, so long as he says, “Behold what I, the gifted and +tireless toiler, can achieve,” he shall produce but mediocre and +ephemeral results. It is when he says reverently, “Behold what powers +greater than I shall achieve through me, the instrument,” that he becomes +great and men marvel at his power. + +Joy’s religious nature found expression in her music, and so something +more than a harmony of beautiful sounds impressed her hearers. + +The first severe blow to her faith in the church as a divine institution, +was when her rector and her lover left her alone in the hour of her +darkest trials, because he knew the story of her mother’s life. His +hesitancy to make her his wife she understood, but his absolute desertion +of her at such a time, seemed inconsistent with his calling as a disciple +of the Christ. + +The second blow came in her dismissal from the position of organist at +the Beryngford Church, after the presence of the Baroness in the town. + +A disgust for human laws, and a bitter resentment towards society took +possession of her. When a gentle and loving nature is roused to anger +and indignation, it is often capable of extremes of action; and Arthur +Stuart had made his proposition of flight to Joy Irving in an hour when +her high-wrought emotions and intensely strung nerves made any desperate +act possible to her. The sight of his face, with its evidences of severe +suffering, awoke all her smouldering passion for the man; and the thought +that he was ready to tread his creed under his feet and to defy society +for her sake, stirred her with a wild joy. God had seemed very far away, +and human love was very precious; too precious to be thrown away in +obedience to any man-made law. + +But somehow this morning God seemed nearer, and the consciousness of what +she had promised to do terrified her. Disturbed by her thoughts, she +turned towards her toilet-table and caught sight of the letter of +dismissal from the church committee. It acted upon her like an electric +shock. Resentment and indignation re-enthroned themselves in her bosom. + +“Is it to cater to the opinions and prejudices of people like _these_ +that I hesitate to take the happiness offered me?” she cried, as she tore +the letter in bits and cast it beneath her feet. Arthur Stuart appeared +to her once more, in the light of a delivering angel. Yes, she would go +with him to the ends of the earth. It was her inheritance to lead a +lawless life. Nothing else was possible for her. God must see how she +had been hemmed in by circumstances, how she had been goaded and driven +from the paths of peace and purity where she had wished to dwell. God +was not a man, and He would be merciful in judging her. + +She sent her landlady two months’ rent in advance, and notice of her +departure, and set hurriedly about her preparations. + + * * * * * + +Twenty-five years before, when Berene Dumont disappeared from Beryngford, +she had, quite unknown to herself, left one devoted though humble friend +behind, who sincerely mourned her absence. + +Mrs Connor liked to be spoken of as “the wash-lady at the Palace.” Yet +proud as she was of this appellation, she was not satisfied with being an +excellent laundress. She was a person of ambitions. To be the owner of +a lodging-house, like the Baroness, was her leading ambition, and to +possess a “peany” for her young daughter Kathleen was another. + +She kept her mind fixed on these two achievements, and she worked always +for those two results. And as mind rules matter, so the laundress became +in time the landlady of a comfortable and respectable lodging-house, and +in its parlour a piano was the chief object of furniture. + +Kathleen Connor learned to play; and at last to the joy of the lodgers, +she married and bore her “peany” away with her. During the time when Mrs +Connor was the ambitious “wash-lady” at the Palace, Berene Dumont came to +live there; and every morning when the young woman carried the tray down +to the kitchen after having served the Baroness with her breakfast, she +offered Mrs Connor a cup of coffee and a slice of toast. + +This simple act of thoughtfulness from the young dependant touched the +Irishwoman’s tender heart and awoke her lasting gratitude. She had heard +Berene’s story, and she had been prepared to mete out to her that +disdainful dislike which Erin almost invariably feels towards France. +Realising that the young widow was by birth and breeding above the +station of housemaid, Mrs Connor and the servants had expected her to +treat them with the same lofty airs which the Baroness made familiar to +her servants. When, instead, Berene toasted the bread for Mrs Connor, +and poured the coffee and placed it on the kitchen table with her own +hands, the heart of the wash-lady melted in her ample breast. When the +heart of the daughter of Erin melts, it permeates her whole being; and +Mrs Connor became a secret devotee at the shrine of Miss Dumont. + +She had never entertained cordial feelings toward the Baroness. When a +society lady—especially a titled one—enters into competition with working +people, and yet refuses to associate with them, it always incites their +enmity. The working population of Beryngford, from the highest to the +lowest grades, felt a sense of resentment toward the Baroness, who in her +capacity of landlady still maintained the airs of a grand dame, and +succeeded in keeping her footing with some of the most fashionable people +in the town. + +Added to these causes of dislike, the Baroness was, like many wealthier +people, excessively close in her dealings with working folk, haggling +over a few cents or a few moments of wasted time, while she was +generosity itself in association with her equals. + +Mrs Connor, therefore, felt both pity and sympathy for Miss Dumont, whose +position in the Palace she knew to be a difficult one; and when Preston +Cheney came upon the scene the romantic mind of the motherly Irishwoman +fashioned a future for the young couple which would have done credit to +the pen of a Mrs Southworth. + +Mr Cheney always had a kind word for the laundress, and a tip as well; +and when Mrs Connor’s dream of seeing him act the part of the Prince and +Berene the Cinderella of a modern fairy story, ended in the disappearance +of Miss Dumont and the marriage of Mr Cheney to Mabel Lawrence, the +unhappy wash-lady mourned unceasingly. + +Ten years of hard, unremitting toil and rigid economy passed away before +Mrs Connor could realise her ambition of becoming a landlady in the +purchase of a small house which contained but four rooms, three of which +were rented to lodgers. The increase in the value of her property during +the next five years, left the fortunate speculator with a fine profit +when she sold her house at the end of that time, and rented a larger one; +and as she was an excellent financier, it was not strange that, at the +time Joy Irving appeared on the scene, “Mrs Connor’s apartments” were as +well and favourably known in Beryngford, if not as distinctly +fashionable, as the Palace had been more than twenty years ago. + +So it was under the roof of her mother’s devoted and faithful mourner +that the unhappy young orphan had found a home when she came to hide +herself away from all who had ever known her. + +The landlady experienced the same haunting sensation of something past +and gone when she looked on the girl’s beautiful face, which had so +puzzled the Baroness; a something which drew and attracted the warm heart +of the Irishwoman, as the magnet draws the steel. Time and experience +had taught Mrs Connor to be discreet in her treatment of her tenants; to +curb her curiosity and control her inclination to sociability. But in +the case of Miss Irving she had found it impossible to refrain from +sundry kindly acts which were not included in the terms of the contract. +Certain savoury dishes found their way mysteriously to Miss Irving’s +_ménage_, and flowers appeared in her room as if by magic, and in various +other ways the good heart and intentions of Mrs Connor were unobtrusively +expressed toward her favourite tenant. Joy had taken a suite of four +rooms, where, with her maid, she lived in modest comfort and complete +retirement from the social world of Beryngford, save as the close +connection of the church with Beryngford society rendered her, in the +position of organist, a participant in many of the social features of the +town. While Joy was in the midst of her preparations for departure, Mrs +Connor made her appearance with swollen eyes and red, blistered face. + +“And it’s the talk of that ould witch of a Baroness, may the divil run +away with her, that is drivin’ ye away, is it?” she cried excitedly; “and +it’s not Mrs Connor as will consist to the daughter of your mother, God +rest her soul, lavin’ my house like this. To think that I should have +had ye here all these years, and never known ye to be her child till now, +and now to see ye driven away by the divil’s own! But if it’s the fear +of not being able to pay the rint because ye’ve lost your position, ye +needn’t lave for many a long day to come. It’s Mrs Connor would only be +as happy as the queen herself to work her hands to the bone for ye, +remembering your darlint of a mother, and not belavin’ one word against +her, nor ye.” + +So soon as Joy could gain possession of her surprised senses, she calmed +the weeping woman and began to question her. + +“My good woman,” she said, “what are you talking about? Did you ever +know my mother, and where did you know her?” + +“In the Palace, to be sure, as they called the house of that imp of +Satan, the Baroness. I was the wash-lady there, for it’s not Mrs Conner +the landlady as is above spakin’ of the days when she wasn’t as high in +the world as she is now; and many is the cheerin’ cup of coffee or tay +from your own mother’s hand, that I’ve had in the forenoon, to chirk me +up and put me through my washing, bless her sweet face; and niver have I +forgotten her; and niver have I ceased to miss her and the fine young man +that took such an interest in her and that I’m as sure loved her, in +spite of his marrying the Judge’s spook of a daughter, as I am that the +Holy Virgin loves us all; and it’s a foine man that your father must have +been, but young Mr Cheney was foiner.” + +So little by little Joy drew the story from Mrs Connor and learned the +name of the mysterious father, so carefully guarded from her in Mrs +Irving’s manuscript, the father at whose funeral services she had so +recently officiated as organist. + +And strangest and most startling of all, she learned that Arthur Stuart’s +insane wife was her half-sister. + +Added to all this, Joy was made aware of the nature of the reports which +the Baroness had been circulating about her; and her feeling of bitter +resentment and anger toward the church committee was modified by the +knowledge that it was not owing to the shadow on her birth, but to the +false report of her own evil life, that she had been asked to resign. + +After Mrs Connor had gone, Joy was for a long time in meditation, and +then turned in a mechanical manner to her delayed task. Her book of +“Impressions” lay on a table close at hand. + +And as she took it up the leaves opened to the sentence she had written +three years before, after her talk with the rector about Marah Adams. + + “It seems to me I could not love a man who did not seek to lead me + higher; the moment he stood below me and asked me to descend, I + should realise he was to be pitied, not adored!” + +She shut the book and fell on her knees in prayer; and as she prayed a +strange thing happened. The room filled with a peculiar mist, like the +smoke which is illuminated by the brilliant rays of the morning sun; and +in the midst of it a small square of intense rose-coloured light was +visible. This square grew larger and larger, until it assumed the size +and form of a man, whose face shone with immortal glory. He smiled and +laid his hand on Joy’s head. “Child, awake,” he said, and with these +words vast worlds dawned upon the girl’s sight. She stood above and +apart from her grosser body, untrammelled and free; she saw long vistas +of lives in the past through which she had come to the present; she saw +long vistas of lives in the future through which she must pass to gain +the experience which would lead her back to God. An ineffable peace and +serenity enveloped her. The divine Presence seemed to irradiate the +place in which she stood—she felt herself illuminated, transfigured, +sanctified by the holy flame within her. + +When she came back to the kneeling form by the couch, and rose to her +feet, all the aspect of life had changed for her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +JOY IRVING had unpacked her trunks and set her small apartment to rights, +when the postman’s ring sounded, and a moment later a letter was slipped +under her door. + +She picked it up, and recognised Arthur Stuart’s penmanship. She sat +down, holding the unopened letter in her hands. + +“It is Arthur’s message, appointing a time and place for our meeting,” +she said to herself. “How long ago that strange interview with him +seems!—yet it was only yesterday. How utterly the whole of life has +changed for me since then! The universe seems larger, God nearer, and +life grander. I am as one who slept and dreamed of darkness and sorrow, +and awakes to light and joy.” + +But when she opened the envelope and read the few hastily written lines +within, an exclamation of surprise escaped her lips. It was a brief note +from Arthur Stuart and began abruptly without an address (a manner more +suggestive of strong passion than any endearing words). + + “The first item which my eye fell upon in the telegraphic column of + the morning paper, was the death of my wife in the Retreat for the + Insane. I leave by the first express to bring her body here for + burial. + + “A merciful providence has saved us the necessity of defying the laws + of God or man, and opened the way for me to claim you before all the + world as my worshipped wife so soon as propriety will permit. + + “I shall see you at any hour you may indicate after to-morrow, for a + brief interview. + + “ARTHUR EMERSON STUART.” + +Joy held the letter in her hand a long time, lost in profound reflection. +Then she sat down to her desk and wrote three letters; one was to Mrs +Lawrence; one to the chairman of the church committee, who had requested +her resignation; the third was to Mr Stuart, and read thus: + + “MY DEAR MR STUART,—Many strange things have occurred to me since I + saw you. I have learned the name of my father, and this knowledge + reveals the fact to me that your unfortunate wife was my half-sister. + I have learned, too, that the loss of my position here as organist is + not due to the narrow prejudice of the committee regarding the shadow + on my birth, but to malicious stories put in circulation by Mrs + Lawrence, relating to me. + + “Infamous and libellous tales regarding my life have been told, and + must be refuted. I have written to Mrs Lawrence demanding a letter + from her, clearing my personal character, or giving her the + alternative of appearing in court to answer the charge of defamation + of character. I have also written to the church committee requesting + them to meet me here in my apartments to-morrow, and explain their + demand for my resignation. + + “I now write to you my last letter and my farewell. + + “In the overwrought and desperate mood in which you found me, it did + not seem a sin for me to go away with the man who loved me and whom I + loved, before false ideas of life and false ideas of duty made him + the husband of another. Conscious that your wife was a hopeless + lunatic whose present or future could in no way be influenced by our + actions, I reasoned that we wronged no one in taking the happiness so + long denied us. + + “The last three years of my life have been full of desolation and + sorrow. From the day my mother died, the stars of light which had + gemmed the firmament for me, seemed one by one to be obliterated, + until I stood in utter darkness. You found me in the very blackest + hour of all—and you seemed a shining sun to me. + + “Yet so soon as my tired brain and sorrow-worn heart were able to + think and reason, I realised that it was not the man I had worshipped + as an ideal, who had come to me and asked me to lower my standard of + womanhood. It was another and less worthy man—and this other was to + be my companion through time, and perhaps eternity. When I learned + that your insane wife was my sister, and that knowing this fact you + yet planned our flight, an indescribable feeling of repulsion awoke + in my heart. + + “I confess that this arose more from a sentiment than a principle. + The relationship of your wife to me made the contemplated sin no + greater, but rendered it more tasteless. + + “Had I gone away with you as I consented to do, the world would have + said, she but follows her fatal inheritance—like mother like + daughter. There were some bitter rebellious hours, when that thought + came to me. But to-day light has shone upon me, and I know there is + a law of Divine Heredity which is greater and more powerful than any + tendency we derive from parents or grandparents. I have believed + much in creeds all my life; and in the hour of great trials I found I + was leaning on broken reeds. I have now ceased to look to men or + books for truth—I have found it in my own soul. I acknowledge no + unfortunate tendencies from any earthly inheritance; centuries of + sinful or weak ancestors are as nothing beside the God within. The + divine and immortal _me_ is older than my ancestral tree; it is as + old as the universe. It is as old as the first great Cause of which + it is a part. Strong with this consciousness, I am prepared to meet + the world alone, and unafraid from this day onward. When I think of + the optimistic temperament, the good brain, and the vigorous body + which were naturally mine, and then of the wretched being who was my + legitimate sister, I know that I was rightly generated, however + unfortunately born, just as she was wrongly generated though legally + born. + + “My father, I am told, married into a family whose crest is traced + back to the tenth century. I carry a coat-of-arms older yet—the + Cross; it dates back eighteen hundred years—yes, many thousand years, + and so I feel myself the nobler of the two. Had you been more of a + disciple of Christ, and less of a disciple of man, you would have + realised this truth long ago, as I realise it to-day. No man should + dare stand before his fellows as a revealer of divine knowledge until + he has penetrated the inmost recesses of his own soul, and found + God’s holy image there; and until he can show others the way to the + same wonderful discovery. The God you worshipped was far away in the + heavens, so far that he could not come to you and save you from your + baser self in the hour of temptation. But the true God has been + miraculously revealed to me. He dwells within; one who has found + Him, will never debase His temple. + + “Though there is no legal obstacle now in the path to our union, + there is a spiritual one which is insurmountable. _I no longer love + you_. I am sorry for you, but that is all. You belonged to my + yesterday—you can have no part in my to-day. The man who tempted me + in my weak hour to go lower, could not help me to go higher. And my + face is set toward the heights. + + “I must prove to that world that a child born under the shadow of + shame, and of two weak, uncontrolled parents, can be virtuous, + strong, brave and sensible. That she can conquer passion and + impulse, by the use of her divine inheritance of will; and that she + can compel the respect of the public by her discreet life and lofty + ideals. + + “I shall stay in this place until I have vindicated my name and + character from every aspersion cast upon them. I shall retain my + position of organist, and retain it until I have accumulated + sufficient means to go abroad and prepare myself for the musical + career in which I know I can excel. I am young, strong and + ambitious. My unusual sorrows will give me greater power of + character if I accept them as spiritual tonics—bitter but + strengthening. + + “Farewell, and may God be with you. + + “JOY IRVING.” + +When the rector of St Blank’s returned from the Beryngford Cemetery, +where he had placed the body of his wife beside her father, he found this +letter lying on his table in the hotel. + + * * * * * + + THE END + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AMBITIOUS MAN*** + + +******* This file should be named 7866-0.txt or 7866-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/7/8/6/7866 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: An Ambitious Man + + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + + + +Release Date: July 5, 2014 [eBook #7866] +[This file was first posted on May 28, 2003] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AMBITIOUS MAN*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1914 Gay & Hancock Ltd. edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" +src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1><span class="GutSmall">AN</span><br /> +AMBITIOUS MAN</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">BY</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">ELLA WHEELER WILCOX</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" +src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">LONDON</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">GAY & HANCOCK LTD.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">12 AND 13 HENRIETTA STREET, +STRAND</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">1914</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>All Rights Reserved</i>]</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>First Edition 1908</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Popular Edition 1914</i></p> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Preston Cheney</span> turned as he ran +down the steps of a handsome house on “The +Boulevard,” waving a second adieu to a young woman framed +between the lace curtains of the window. Then he hurried +down the street and out of view. The young woman watched +him with a gleam of satisfaction in her pale blue eyes. A +fine-looking young fellow, whose Roman nose and strong jaw belied +the softly curved mouth with its sensitive darts at the corners; +it was strange that something warmer than satisfaction did not +shine upon the face of the woman whom he had just asked to be his +wife.</p> +<p>But Mabel Lawrence was one of those women who are never swayed +by any passion stronger than worldly ambition, never burned by +any fires other than those of jealousy or anger. Her meagre +nature was truly depicted in her meagre face. Nature is +ofttimes a great lair and a cruel jester, giving to the cold and +vapid woman the face and form of a sensuous siren, and concealing +a heart of volcanic fires, or the soul of a Phryne, under the +exterior of a spinster. But the old dame had been wholly +frank in forming Miss Lawrence. The thin, flat chest and +narrow shoulders, the angular elbows and prominent +shoulder-blades, the sallow skin and sharp features, the deeply +set, pale blue eyes, and the lustreless, ashen hair, were all +truthful exponents of the unfurnished rooms in her vacant heart +and soul places.</p> +<p>Miss Lawrence turned from the window, and trailed her long +silken train across the rich carpet, seating herself before the +open fireplace. It was an appropriate time and situation +for a maiden’s tender dreams; only a few hours had passed +since the handsomest and most brilliant young man in that +thriving eastern town had asked her to be his wife, and placed +the kiss of betrothal upon her virgin lips. Yet it was with +a sense of triumph and relief, rather than with tenderness and +rapture, that the young woman meditated upon the +situation—triumph over other women who had shown a decided +interest in Mr Cheney, since his arrival in the place more than +eighteen months ago, and relief that the dreaded rôle of +spinster was not to be her part in life’s drama.</p> +<p>Miss Lawrence was twenty-six—one year older than her +fiancé; and she had never received a proposal of marriage +or listened to a word of love in her life before. Let me +transpose that phrase—she had never before received a +proposal of marriage, and had never in her life listened to a +word of love; for Preston had not spoken of love. She knew +that he did not love her. She knew that he had sought her +hand wholly from ambitious motives. She was the daughter of +the Hon. Sylvester Lawrence, lawyer, judge, state senator, and +proposed candidate for lieutenant-governor in the coming +campaign. She was the only heir to his large fortune.</p> +<p>Preston Cheney was a penniless young man from the West. +A self-made youth, with an unusual brain and an overwhelming +ambition, he had risen from chore boy on a western farm to +printer’s apprentice in a small town, thence to reporter, +city editor, foreign correspondent, and after two or three years +of travel gained in this manner he had come to Beryngford and +bought out a struggling morning paper, which was making a mad +effort to keep alive, changed its political tendencies, infused +it with western activity and filled it with cosmopolitan news, +and now, after eighteen months, the young man found himself +coming abreast of his two long established rivals in the +editorial field. This success was but an incentive to his +overwhelming ambition for place, power and riches. He had +seen just enough of life and of the world to estimate these +things at double their value; and he was, beside, looking at life +through the magnifying glass of youth. The Creator intended +us to gaze on worldly possessions and selfish ambitions through +the small end of the lorgnette, but youth invariably inverts the +glass.</p> +<p>To the young editor, the brief years behind him seemed like a +long hard pull up a steep and rocky cliff. From the point +to which he had attained, the summit of his desires looked very +far away, much farther than the level from which he had +arisen. To rise to that summit single-handed and alone +would require unremitting effort through the very best years of +his manhood. His brain, his strength, his ability, his +ambitions, what were they all in the strife after place and +power, compared to the money of some commonplace adversary? +Preston Cheney, the native-born American directly descended from +a Revolutionary soldier, would be handicapped in the race with +some Michael Murphy whose father had made a fortune in the saloon +business, or who had himself acquired a competency as a police +officer.</p> +<p>America was not the same country which gave men like Benjamin +Franklin, Abraham Lincoln and Horace Greeley a chance to rise +from the lower ranks to the highest places before they reached +middle life. It was no longer a land where merit strove +with merit, and the prize fell to the most earnest and the most +gifted. The tremendous influx of foreign population since +the war of the Rebellion and the right of franchise given +unreservedly to the illiterate and the vicious rendered the +ambitious American youth now a toy in the hands of aliens, and +position a thing to be bought at the price set by un-American +masses.</p> +<p>Thoughts like these had more and more with each year filled +the mind of Preston Cheney, until, like the falling of stones and +earth into a river bed, they changed the naturally direct current +of his impulses into another channel. Why not further his +life purpose by an ambitious marriage? The first time the +thought entered his mind he had cast it out as something unclean +and unworthy of his manhood. Marriage was a holy estate, he +said to himself, a sacrament to be entered into with reverence, +and sanctified by love. He must love the woman who was to +be the companion of his life, the mother of his children.</p> +<p>Then he looked about among his early friends who had married, +as nearly all the young men of the middle classes in America do +marry, for love, or what they believed to be love. There +was Tom Somers—a splendid lad, full of life, hope and +ambition when he married Carrie Towne, the prettiest girl in +Vandalia. Well, what was he now, after seven years? A +broken-spirited man, with a sickly, complaining wife and a brood +of ill-clad children. Harry Walters, the most infatuated +lover he had ever seen, was divorced after five years of +discordant marriage.</p> +<p>Charlie St Clair was flagrantly unfaithful to the girl he had +pursued three years with his ardent wooings before she yielded to +his suit. Certainly none of these love marriages were +examples for him to follow. And in the midst of these +reveries and reflections, Preston Cheney came to Beryngford, and +met Sylvester Lawrence and his daughter Mabel. He met also +Berene Dumont. Had he not met the latter woman he would not +have succumbed—so soon at least—to the temptation +held out by the former to advance his ambitious aims.</p> +<p>He would have hesitated, considered, and reconsidered, and +without doubt his better nature and his good taste would have +prevailed. But when fate threw Berene Dumont in his way, +and circumstances brought about his close associations with her +for many months, there seemed but one way of escape from the +Scylla of his desires, and that was to the Charybdis of a +marriage with Miss Lawrence.</p> +<p>Miss Lawrence was not aware of the part Berene Dumont had +played in her engagement, but she knew perfectly the part her +father’s influence and wealth had played; but she was quite +content with affairs as they were, and it mattered little to her +what had brought them about. To be married, rather than to +be loved, had been her ambition since she left school; being +incapable of loving, she was incapable of appreciating the +passion in any of its phases. It had always seemed to her +that a great deal of nonsense was written and talked about +love. She thought demonstrative people very vulgar, and +believed kissing a means of conveying germs of disease.</p> +<p>But to be a married woman, with an establishment of her own, +and a husband to exhibit to her friends, was necessary to the +maintenance of her pride.</p> +<p>When Miss Lawrence’s mother, a nervous invalid, was +informed of her daughter’s engagement, she burst into +tears, as over a lamb offered on the altar of sacrifice; and +Judge Lawrence pressed a kiss on the lobe of Mabel’s left +ear which she offered him, and told her she had won a prize in +the market. But as he sat alone over his cigar that night, +he sighed heavily, and said to himself, “Poor fellow, I +wish Mabel were not so much like her mother.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Baroness Brown</span>” was a +distinctive figure in Beryngford. She came to the place +from foreign parts some three years before the arrival of Preston +Cheney, and brought servants, carriages and horses, and +established herself in a very handsome house which she rented for +a term of years. Her arrival in this quiet village town was +of course the sensation of the hour, or rather of the year. +She was known as Baroness Le Fevre—an American widow of a +French baron. Large, voluptuous, blonde, and handsome +according to the popular idea of beauty, distinctly amiable, +affable and very charitable, she became at once the fashion.</p> +<p>Invitations to her house were eagerly sought after, and her +entertainments were described in column articles by the +press.</p> +<p>This state of things continued only six months, however. +Then it began to be whispered about that the Baroness was in +arrears for her rent. Several of her servants had gone away +in a high state of temper at the titled mistress who had failed +to pay them a cent of wages since they came to the country with +her; and one day the neighbours saw her fine carriage horses led +away by the sheriff.</p> +<p>A week later society was electrified by the announcement of +the marriage of Baroness Le Fevre to Mr Brown, a wealthy widower +who owned the best shoe store in Beryngford.</p> +<p>Mr Brown owned ten children also, but the youngest was a boy +of sixteen, absent in college. The other nine were married +and settled in comfortable homes.</p> +<p>Mr Brown died at the expiration of a year. This one year +had taught him more of womankind than he had learned in all his +sixty and nine years before; and, feeling that it is never too +late to profit by learning, Mr Brown discreetly made his will, +leaving all his property save the widow’s +“thirds” equally divided among his ten children.</p> +<p>The Baroness made a futile effort to break the will, on the +ground that he was not of sound mind when it was drawn up; but +the effort cost her several hundred of her few thousand dollars +and the increased enmity of the ten Brown children, and availed +her nothing. An important part of the widow’s third +was the Brown mansion, a large, commodious house built many years +before, when the village was but a country town. Everybody +supposed the Baroness, as she was still called, half in derision +and half from the American love of mouthing a title, would offer +this house for sale, and depart for fresh fields and pastures +new. But the Baroness never did what she was expected to +do.</p> +<p>Instead of offering her house for sale, she offered +“Rooms to Let,” and turned the family mansion into a +fashionable lodging-house.</p> +<p>Its central location, and its adjacence to several restaurants +and boarding houses, rendered it a convenient place for business +people to lodge, and the handsome widow found no trouble in +filling her rooms with desirable and well-paying patrons. +In a spirit of fun, people began to speak of the old Brown +mansion as “The Palace,” and in a short time the +lodging-house was known by that name, just as its mistress was +known as “Baroness Brown.”</p> +<p>The Palace yielded the Baroness something like two hundred +dollars a month, and cost her only the wages and keeping of three +servants; or rather the wages of two and the keeping of three; +for to Berene Dumont, her maid and personal attendant, she paid +no wages.</p> +<p>The Baroness did not rise till noon, and she always +breakfasted in bed. Sometimes she remained in her room till +mid-afternoon. Berene served her breakfast and lunch, and +looked after the servants to see that the lodgers’ rooms +were all in order. These were the services for which she +was given a home. But in truth the young woman did much +more than this; she acted also as seamstress and milliner for her +mistress, and attended to the marketing and ran errands for +her. If ever a girl paid full price for her keeping, it was +Berene, and yet the Baroness spoke frequently of “giving +the poor thing a home.”</p> +<p>It had all come about in this way. Pierre Dumont kept a +second-hand book store in Beryngford. He was French, and +the national characteristic of frugality had assumed the shape of +avarice in his nature. He was, too, a petty tyrant and a +cruel husband and father when under the influence of absinthe, a +state in which he was usually to be found.</p> +<p>Berene was an only child, and her mother, whom she worshipped, +said, when dying, “Take care of your poor father, +Berene. Do everything you can to make him happy. +Never desert him.”</p> +<p>Berene was fourteen at that time. She had never been at +school, but she had been taught to read and write both French and +English, for her mother was an American girl who had been +disinherited by her grandparents, with whom she lived, for +eloping with her French teacher—Pierre Dumont. +Rheumatism and absinthe turned the French professor into a +shopkeeper before Berene was born. The grandparents had +died without forgiving their granddaughter, and, much as the +unhappy woman regretted her foolish marriage, she remained a +patient and devoted wife to the end of her life, and imposed the +same patience and devotion when dying on her daughter.</p> +<p>At sixteen, Berene was asked to sacrifice herself on the altar +of marriage to a man three times her age; one Jacques Letellier, +who offered generously to take the young girl as payment for a +debt owed by his convivial comrade, M. Dumont. Berene wept +and begged piteously to be spared this horrible sacrifice of her +young life, whereupon Pierre Dumont seized his razor and +threatened suicide as the other alternative from the dishonour of +debt, and Berene in terror yielded her word and herself the next +day to the debasing mockery of marriage with a depraved old +gambler and <i>roué</i>.</p> +<p>Six months later Jacques Letellier died in a fit of apoplexy +and Berene was freed from her chains; but freed only to keep on +in a life of martyrdom as servant and slave to the caprices of +her father, until his death. When he was finally well +buried under six feet of earth, Berene found herself twenty years +of age, alone in the world with just one thousand dollars in +money, the price brought by her father’s effects.</p> +<p>Without education or accomplishments, she was the possessor of +youth, health, charm, and a voice of wonderful beauty and power; +a voice which it was her dream to cultivate, and use as a means +of support. But how could she ever cultivate it? The +thousand dollars in her possession was, she knew, but a drop in +the ocean of expense a musical education would entail. And +she must keep that money until she found some way by which to +support herself.</p> +<p>Baroness Brown had attended the sale of old Dumont’s +effects. She had often noticed the young girl in the shop, +and in the street, and had been struck with the peculiar elegance +and refinement of her appearance. Her simple lawn or print +gowns were made and worn in a manner befitting a princess. +Her nails were carefully kept, despite all the household drudgery +which devolved upon her.</p> +<p>The Baroness was a shrewd woman and a clever reasoner. +She needed a thrifty, prudent person in her house to look after +things, and to attend to her personal needs. Since she had +opened the Palace as a lodging-house, this need had stared her in +the face. Servants did very well in their places, but the +person she required was of another and superior order, and only +to be obtained by accident or by advertising and the paying of a +large salary. Now the Baroness had been in the habit of +thinking that her beauty and amiability were quite equivalent to +any favours she received from humanity at large. Ever since +she was a plump girl in short dresses, she had learned that +smiles and compliments from her lips would purchase her friends +of both sexes, who would do disagreeable duties for her. +She had never made it a custom to pay out money for any service +she could obtain otherwise. So now as she looked on this +young woman who, though a widow, seemed still a mere child, it +occurred to her that Fate had with its usual kindness thrown in +her path the very person she needed.</p> +<p>She offered Berene “a home” at the Palace in +return for a few small services. The lonely girl, whose +strangely solitary life with her old father had excluded her from +all social relations outside, grasped at this offer from the +handsome lady whom she had long admired from a distance, and went +to make her home at the Palace.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Berene</span> had been several months in +her new home when Preston Cheney came to lodge at the Palace.</p> +<p>He met her on the stairway the first morning after his +arrival, as he was descending to the street door.</p> +<p>Bringing up a tray covered with a snowy napkin, she stepped to +one side and paused, to make room for him to pass.</p> +<p>Preston was not one of those young men who find pastime in +flirtations with nursery maids or kitchen girls. The very +thought of it offended his good taste. Once, in listening +to the boastful tales of a modern Don Juan, who was relating his +gallant adventures with a handsome waiter girl at a hotel, +Preston had remarked, “I would as soon think of using my +dinner napkin for a necktie, as finding romance with a servant +girl.”</p> +<p>Yet he appreciated a snowy, well-laundried napkin in its +place, and he was most considerate and thoughtful in his +treatment of servants.</p> +<p>He supposed Berene to be an upper servant of the house, and +yet, as he glanced at her, a strange and unaccountable feeling of +interest seized upon him. The creamy pallor of her skin, +colourless save for the full red lips, the dark eyes full of +unutterable longing, the aristocratic poise of the head, the +softly rounded figure, elegant in its simple gown and apron, all +impressed him as he had never before been impressed by any +woman.</p> +<p>It was several days before he chanced to see her again, and +then only for a moment as she passed through the hall; but he +heard a trill of song from her lips, which added to his interest +and curiosity. “That girl is no common +servant,” he said to himself, and he resolved to learn more +about her.</p> +<p>It had been the custom of the Baroness to keep herself quite +hidden from her lodgers. They seldom saw her, after the +first business interview. Therefore it was a matter of +surprise to the young editor when he came home from his office +one night, just after twelve o’clock, and found the +mistress of the mansion standing in the hall by the register, in +charming evening attire.</p> +<p>She smiled upon him radiantly. “I have just come +in from a benefit concert,” she said, “and I am as +hungry as a bear. Now I cannot endure eating alone at +night. I knew it was near your hour to return, so I waited +for you. Will you go down to the dining-room with me and +have a Welsh rarebit? I am going to make one in my chafing +dish.”</p> +<p>The young man hid his surprise under a gallant smile, and +offering the Baroness his arm descended to the basement +dining-room with her. He had heard much about the +complicated life of this woman, and he felt a certain amount of +natural curiosity in regard to her. He had met her but +once, and that was on the day when he had called to engage his +room, a little more than two weeks past.</p> +<p>He had thought her an excellent type of the successful +American adventuress on that occasion, and her quiet and dull +life in this ordinary town puzzled him. He could not +imagine a woman of that order existing a whole year without an +adventure; as a rule he knew that those blonde women with large +hips and busts, and small waists and feet, are as unable to live +without excitement as a fish without water.</p> +<p>Yet, since the death of Mr Brown, more than a year past, the +Baroness had lived the life of a recluse. It puzzled him, +as a student of human nature.</p> +<p>But, in fact, the Baroness was a skilled general in planning +her campaigns. She seldom plunged into action +unprepared.</p> +<p>She knew from experience that she could not live in a large +city and not use an enormous amount of money.</p> +<p>She was tired of taking great risks, and she knew that without +the aid of money and a fine wardrobe she was not able to attract +men as she had done ten years before.</p> +<p>As long as she remained in Beryngford she would be adding to +her income every month, and saving the few thousands she +possessed. She would be saving her beauty, too, by keeping +early hours and living a temperate life; and if she carefully +avoided any new scandal, her past adventures would be dim in the +minds of people when, after a year or two more of retirement and +retrenchment, she sallied forth to new fields, under a new name, +if need be, and with a comfortably filled purse.</p> +<p>It was in this manner that the Baroness had reasoned; but from +the hour she first saw Preston Cheney, her resolutions +wavered. He impressed her most agreeably; and after +learning about him from the daily papers, and hearing him spoken +of as a valuable acquisition to Beryngford’s intellectual +society, the Baroness decided to come out of her retirement and +enter the lists in advance of other women who would seek to +attract this newcomer.</p> +<p>To the fading beauty in her late thirties, a man in the early +twenties possesses a peculiar fascination; and to the Baroness, +clothed in weeds for a husband who died on the eve of his +seventieth birthday, the possibility of winning a young man like +Preston Cheney overbalanced all other considerations in her +mind. She had never been a vulgar coquette to whom all men +were prey. She had always been more or less +discriminating. A man must be either very attractive or +very rich to win her regard. Mr Brown had been very rich, +and Preston Cheney was very attractive.</p> +<p>“He is more than attractive, he is positively +<i>fascinating</i>,” she said to herself in the solitude of +her room after the tête-à-tête over the Welsh +rarebit that evening. “I don’t know when I have +felt such a pleasure in a man’s presence. Not +since—” But the Baroness did not allow herself +to go back so far. “If there is any fruit I +<i>detest</i>, it is <i>dates</i>,” she often said +laughingly. “Some people delight in a good +memory—I delight in a good forgettory of the past, with its +telltale milestones of birthdays and anniversaries of marriages, +deaths and divorces.”</p> +<p>“Mr Cheney said I looked very young to have been twice +married. Twice!” and she laughed aloud before her +mirror, revealing the pink arch of her mouth, and two perfect +sets of yellow-white teeth, with only one blemishing spot of gold +visible. “I wonder if he meant it, though?” she +mused. “And the fact that I <i>do</i> wonder is the +sure proof that I am really interested in this man. As a +rule, I never believe a word men say, though I delight in their +flattery all the same. It makes me feel comfortable even +when I know they are lying. But I should really feel hurt +if I thought Mr Cheney had not meant what he said. I +don’t believe he knows much about women, or about himself +lower than his brain. He has never studied his heart. +He is all ambition. If an ambitious and unsophisticated +youth of twenty-five or twenty-eight does get infatuated with a +woman of my age—he is a perfect toy in her hands. Ah, +well, we shall see what we shall see.” And the +Baroness finished her massage in cold cream, and put her blonde +head on the pillow and went sound asleep.</p> +<p>After that first tête-à-tête supper the +fair widow managed to see Preston at least once or twice a +week. She sent for him to ask his advice on business +matters, she asked him to aid her in changing the position of the +furniture in a room when the servants were all busy, and she +invited him to her private parlour for lunch every Sunday +afternoon. It was during one of these chats over cake and +wine that the young man spoke of Berene. The Baroness had +dropped some remarks about her servants, and Preston said, in a +casual tone of voice which hid the real interest he felt in the +subject, “By the way, one of your servants has quite an +unusual voice. I have heard her singing about the halls a +few times, and it seems to me she has real talent.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that is Miss Dumont—Berene Dumont—she +is not an absolute servant,” the Baroness replied; +“she is a most unfortunate young woman to whom my heart +went out in pity, and I have given her a home. She is +really a widow, though she refuses to use her dead +husband’s name.”</p> +<p>“A widow?” repeated Preston with surprise and a +queer sensation of annoyance at his heart; “why, from the +glimpse I had of her I thought her a young girl.”</p> +<p>“So she is, not over twenty-one at most, and woefully +ignorant for that age,” the Baroness said, and then she +proceeded to outline Berene’s history, laying a good deal +of stress upon her own charitable act in giving the girl a +home.</p> +<p>“She is so ignorant of life, despite the fact that she +has been married, and she is so uneducated and helpless, I could +not bear to see her cast into the path of designing +people,” the Baroness said. “She has a strong +craving for an education, and I give her good books to read, and +good advice to ponder over, and I hope in time to come she will +marry some honest fellow and settle down to a quiet, happy home +life. The man who brings us butter and eggs from the +country is quite fascinated with her, but she does not deign him +a glance.” And then the Baroness talked of other +things.</p> +<p>But the history he had heard remained in Preston +Cheney’s mind and he could not drive the thought of this +girl away. No wonder her eyes were sad! Better blood +ran in her veins than coursed under the pink flesh of the +Baroness, he would wager; she was the unfortunate victim of a +combination of circumstances, which had defrauded her of the +advantages of youth.</p> +<p>He spoke with her in the hall one morning not long after that; +and then it grew to be a daily occurrence that he talked with her +a few moments, and before many weeks had passed the young man +approached the Baroness with a request.</p> +<p>“I have become interested in your protégée +Miss Dumont,” he said. “You have done so much +for her that you have stirred my better nature and made me +anxious to emulate your example. In talking with her in the +hall one day I learned her great desire for a better education, +and her anxiety to earn money. Now it has occurred to me +that I might aid her in both ways. We need two or three +more girls in our office. We need one more in the +type-setting department. As <i>The Clarion</i> is a morning +paper, and you never need Miss Dumont’s services after five +o’clock, she could work a few hours in the office, earn a +small salary, and gain something in the way of an education also, +if she were ambitious enough to do so. Nearly all my early +education was gained as a printer. She tells me she is +faulty in the matter of spelling, and this would be excellent +training for her. You have, dear madam, inspired the girl +with a desire for more knowledge, and I hope you will let me +carry on the good work you have begun.”</p> +<p>Preston had approached the matter in a way that could not fail +to bring success—by flattering the vanity and pride of the +Baroness. So elated was she with the agreeable references +to herself, that she never suspected the young man’s deep +personal interest in the girl. She believed in the +beginning that he was showing Berene this kind attention solely +to please the mistress.</p> +<p>Berene entered the office as type-setter, and made such +astonishing progress that she was promoted to the position of +proof-reader ere six months had passed. And hour by hour, +day by day, week by week, the strange influence which she had +exerted on her employer, from the first moment of their meeting, +grew and strengthened, until he realised with a sudden terror +that his whole being was becoming absorbed by an intense passion +for the girl.</p> +<p>Meantime the Baroness was growing embarrassing in her +attentions. The young man was not conceited, nor prone to +regard himself as an object of worship to the fair sex. He +had during the first few months believed the Baroness to be +amusing herself with his society. He had not flattered +himself that a woman of her age, who had seen so much of the +world, and whose ambitions were so unmistakable, could regard him +otherwise than as a diversion.</p> +<p>But of late the truth had forced itself upon him that the +woman wished to entangle him in a serious affair. He could +not afford to jeopardise his reputation at the very outset of his +career by any such entanglement, or by the appearance of +one. He cast about for some excuse to leave the Palace, yet +this would separate him in a measure from his association with +Berene, beside incurring the enmity of the Baroness, and possibly +causing Berene to suffer from her anger as well.</p> +<p>He seemed to be caught like a fly in a net. And again +the thought of his future and his ambitions confronted him, and +he felt abashed in his own eyes, as he realised how far away +these ambitions had seemed of late, since he had allowed his +emotions to overrule his brain.</p> +<p>What was this ignorant daughter of a French professor, that +she should stand between him and glory, riches and power? +Desperate diseases needed desperate remedies. He had been +an occasional caller at the Lawrence homestead ever since he came +to Beryngford. Without being conceited on the subject, he +realised that Mabel Lawrence would not reject him as a +suitor.</p> +<p>The masculine party is very dull, or the feminine very +deceptive, when a man makes a mistake in his impressions on this +subject.</p> +<p>That afternoon the young editor left his office at five +o’clock and asked Miss Lawrence to be his wife.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Preston Cheney</span> walked briskly down +the street after he left his fiancée, his steps directed +toward the Palace. It was seven o’clock, and he knew +the Baroness would be at home.</p> +<p>He had determined upon heroic treatment for his own mental +disease (as he regarded his peculiar sentiments toward Berene +Dumont), and he had decided upon a similar course of treatment +for the Baroness.</p> +<p>He would confide his engagement to her at once, and thus put +an end to his embarrassing position in the Palace, as well as to +establish his betrothal as a fact—and to force himself to +so regard it. It was strange reasoning for a young man in +the very first hour of his new rôle of bridegroom elect, +but this particular groom elect had deliberately placed himself +in a peculiar position, and his reasoning was not, of course, +that of an ardent and happy lover.</p> +<p>Already he was galled by his new fetters; already he was +feeling a sense of repulsion toward the woman he had asked to be +his wife: and because of these feelings he was more eager to nail +himself hand and foot to the cross he had builded.</p> +<p>He was obliged to wait some time before the Baroness came into +the reception-room; and when she came he observed that she had +made an elaborate toilet in his honour. Her sumptuous +shoulders billowed over the low-cut blue corsage like +apple-dumplings over a china dish. Her waist was drawn in +to an hourglass taper, while her ample hips spread out beneath +like the heavy mason work which supports a slender column. +Tiny feet encased in pretty slippers peeping from beneath her +silken skirts looked oddly out of proportion with the rest of her +generous personality, and reminded Preston of the grotesque cuts +in the humorous weeklies, where well-known politicians were +represented with large heads and small extremities. +Artistic by nature, and with an eye to form, he had never admired +the Baroness’s type of beauty, which was the theme of +admiration for nearly every other man in Beryngford. Her +face, with its infantine colouring, its large, innocent azure +eyes, and its short retroussé features, he conceded to be +captivatingly pretty, however, and it seemed unusually so this +evening. Perhaps because he had so recently looked upon the +sharp, sallow face of his fiancée.</p> +<p>Preston frequently came to his room about this hour, after +having dined and before going to the office for his final duties; +but he seldom saw the Baroness on these occasions, unless through +her own design.</p> +<p>“You were surprised to receive my message, no doubt, +saying I wished to see you,” he began. “But I +have something I feel I ought to tell you, as it may make some +changes in my habits, and will of course eventually take me away +from these pleasant associations.” He paused for a +second, and the Baroness, who had seated herself on the divan at +his side, leaned forward and looked inquiringly in his face.</p> +<p>“You are going away?” she asked, with a tremor in +her voice. “Is it not very sudden?”</p> +<p>“No, I am not going away,” he replied, “not +from Beryngford—but I shall doubtless leave your house ere +many months. I am engaged to be married to Miss Mabel +Lawrence. You are the first person to whom I have imparted +the news, but you have been so kind, and I feel that you ought to +know it in time to secure a desirable tenant for my +room.”</p> +<p>Again there was a pause. The rosy face of the Baroness +had grown quite pale, and an unpleasant expression had settled +about the corners of her small mouth. She waved a feather +fan to and fro languidly. Then she gave a slight laugh and +said:</p> +<p>“Well, I must confess that I am surprised. Miss +Lawrence is the last woman in the world whom I would have +imagined you to select as a wife. Yet I congratulate you on +your good sense. You are very ambitious, and you can rise +to great distinction if you have the right influence to aid +you. Judge Lawrence, with his wealth and position, is of +all men the one who can advance your interests, and what more +natural than that he should advance the interests of his +son-in-law? You are a very wise youth and I again +congratulate you. No romantic folly will ever ruin your +life.”</p> +<p>There was irony and ridicule in her voice and face, and the +young man felt his cheek tingle with anger and humiliation. +The Baroness had read him like an open book—as everyone +else doubtless would do. It was bitterly galling to his +pride, but there was nothing to do, save to keep a bold front, +and carry out his rôle with as much dignity as +possible.</p> +<p>He rose, spoke a few formal words of thanks to the Baroness +for her kindness to him, and bowed himself from her presence, +carrying with him down the street the memory of her mocking +eyes.</p> +<p>As he entered his private office, he was amazed to see Berene +Dumont sitting in his chair fast asleep, her head framed by her +folded arms, which rested on his desk. Against the dark +maroon of her sleeve, her classic face was outlined like a marble +statuette. Her long lashes swept her cheek, and in the +attitude in which she sat, her graceful, perfectly-proportioned +figure displayed each beautiful curve to the best advantage.</p> +<p>To a noble nature, the sight of even an enemy asleep, awakes +softening emotions, while the sight of a loved being in the +unconsciousness of slumber stirs the fountain of affection to its +very depths.</p> +<p>As the young editor looked upon the girl before him, a passion +of yearning love took possession of him. A wild desire to +seize her in his arms and cover her pale face with kisses, made +his heart throb to suffocation and brought cold beads to his +brow; and just as these feelings gained an almost uncontrollable +dominion over his reason, will and judgment, the girl awoke and +started to her feet in confusion.</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr Cheney, pray forgive me!” she cried, +looking more beautiful than ever with the flush which overspread +her face. “I came in to ask about a word in your +editorial which I could not decipher. I waited for you, as +I felt sure you would be in shortly—and I was so +<i>tired</i> I sat down for just a second to rest—and that +is all I knew about it. You must forgive me, sir!—I +did not mean to intrude.”</p> +<p>Her confusion, her appealing eyes, her magnetic voice were all +fuel to the fire raging in the young man’s heart. Now +that she was for ever lost to him through his own deliberate +action, she seemed tenfold more dear and to be desired. +Brain, soul, and body all seemed to crave her; he took a step +forward, and drew in a quick breath as if to speak; and then a +sudden sense of his own danger, and an overwhelming disgust for +his weakness swept over him, and the intense passion the girl had +aroused in his heart changed to unreasonable anger.</p> +<p>“Miss Dumont,” he said coldly, “I think we +will have to dispense with your services after to-night. +Your duties are evidently too hard for you. You can leave +the office at any time you wish. Good-night.”</p> +<p>The girl shrank as if he had struck her, looked up at him with +wide, wondering eyes, waited for a moment as if expecting to be +recalled, then, as Mr Cheney wheeled his chair about and turned +his back upon her, she suddenly sped away without a word.</p> +<p>She left the office a few moments later; but it was not until +after eleven o’clock that she dragged herself up two +flights of stairs toward her room on the attic floor at the +Palace. She had been walking the streets like a mad +creature all that intervening time, trying to still the agonising +pain in her heart. Preston Cheney had long been her ideal +of all that was noble, grand and good, she worshipped him as +devout pagans worshipped their sacred idols; and, without knowing +it, she gave him the absorbing passion which an intense woman +gives to her lover.</p> +<p>It was only now that he had treated her with such rough +brutality, and discharged her from his employ for so slight a +cause, that the knowledge burst upon her tortured heart of all he +was to her.</p> +<p>She paused at the foot of the third and last flight of stairs +with a strange dizziness in her head and a sinking sensation at +her heart.</p> +<p>A little less than half-an-hour afterwards Preston Cheney +unlocked the street door and came in for the night. He had +done double his usual amount of work and had finished his duties +earlier than usual. To avoid thinking after he sent Berene +away, he had turned to his desk and plunged into his labour with +feverish intensity. He wrote a particularly savage +editorial on the matter of over-immigration, and his leaders on +political questions of the day were all tinctured with a +bitterness and sarcasm quite new to his pen. At midnight +that pen dropped from his nerveless hand, and he made his way +toward the Palace in a most unenviable state of mind and +body.</p> +<p>Yet he believed he had done the right thing both in engaging +himself to Miss Lawrence and in discharging Berene. Her +constant presence about the office was of all things the most +undesirable in his new position.</p> +<p>“But I might have done it in a decent manner if I had +not lost all control of myself,” he said as he walked +home. “It was brutal the way I spoke to her; poor +child, she looked as if I had beat her with a bludgeon. +Well, it is just as well perhaps that I gave her good reason to +despise me.”</p> +<p>Since Berene had gone into the young man’s office as an +employé her good taste and another reason had caused her +to avoid him as much as possible in the house. He seldom +saw more than a passing glimpse of her in the halls, and +frequently whole days elapsed that he met her only in the +office. The young man never suspected that this fact was +due in great part to the suggestion of jealousy in the manner of +the Baroness toward the young girl ever after he had shown so +much interest in her welfare. Sensitive to the mental +atmosphere about her, as a wind harp to the lightest breeze, +Berene felt this unexpressed sentiment in the breast of her +“benefactress” and strove to avoid anything which +could aggravate it.</p> +<p>With a lagging step and a listless air, Preston made his way +up the first of two flights of stairs which intervened between +the street door and his room. The first floor was in +darkness; but in the upper hall a dim light was always left +burning until his return. As he reached the landing, he was +startled to see a woman’s form lying at the foot of the +attic stairs, but a few feet from the door of his room. +Stooping down, he uttered a sudden exclamation of pained +surprise, for it was upon the pallid, unconscious face of Berene +Dumont that his eyes fell. He lifted the lithe figure in +his sinewy arms, and with light, rapid steps bore her up the +stairs and in through the open door of her room.</p> +<p>“If she is dead, I am her murderer,” he +thought. But at that moment she opened her eyes and looked +full into his, with a gaze which made his impetuous, uncontrolled +heart forget that any one or anything existed on earth but this +girl and his love for her.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> of the greatest factors in the +preservation of the Baroness’s beauty had been her ability +to sleep under all conditions. The woman who can and does +sleep eight or nine hours out of each twenty-four is well armed +against the onslaught of time and trouble.</p> +<p>To say that such women do not possess heart enough or feeling +enough to suffer is ofttimes most untrue.</p> +<p>Insomnia is a disease of the nerves or of the stomach, rather +than the result of extreme emotion. Sometimes the people +who sleep the most profoundly at night in times of sorrow, suffer +the more intensely during their waking hours. Disguised as +a friend, deceitful Slumber comes to them only to strengthen +their powers of suffering, and to lend a new edge to pain.</p> +<p>The Baroness was not without feeling. Her temperament +was far from phlegmatic. She had experienced great cyclones +of grief and loss in her varied career, though many years had +elapsed since she had known what the French call a “white +night.”</p> +<p>But the night following her interview with Preston Cheney she +never closed her eyes in sleep. It was in vain that she +tried all known recipes for producing slumber. She said the +alphabet backward ten times; she counted one thousand; she +conjured up visions of sheep jumping the time-honoured fence in +battalions, yet the sleep god never once drew near.</p> +<p>“I am certainly a brilliant illustration of the saying +that there is no fool like an old fool,” she said to +herself as the night wore on, and the strange sensation of pain +and loss which Preston Cheney’s unexpected announcement had +caused her gnawed at her breast like a rat in a wainscot.</p> +<p>That she had been unusually interested in the young editor she +knew from the first; that she had been mortally wounded by +Cupid’s shaft she only now discovered. She had passed +through a divorce, two “affairs” and a legitimate +widowhood, without feeling any of the keen emotions which now +drove sleep from her eyes. A long time ago, longer than she +cared to remember, she had experienced such emotions, but she had +supposed such folly only possible in the high tide of early +youth. It was absurd, nay more, it was ridiculous to lie +awake at her time of life thinking about a penniless country +youth whose mother she might almost have been. In this +bitterly frank fashion the Baroness reasoned with herself as she +lay quite still in her luxurious bed, and tried to sleep.</p> +<p>Yet despite her frankness, her philosophy and her reasoning, +the rasping hurt at her heart remained—a hurt so cruel it +seemed to her the end of all peace or pleasure in life.</p> +<p>It is harder to bear the suffocating heat of a late September +day which the year sometimes brings, than all the burning June +suns.</p> +<p>The Baroness heard the click of Preston’s key in the +street door, and she listened to his slow step as he ascended the +stairs. She heard him pause, too, and waited for the sound +of the opening of his room door, which was situated exactly above +her own. But she listened in vain, her ears, brain and +heart on the alert with surprise, curiosity, and at last +suspicion. The Baroness was as full of curiosity as a +cat.</p> +<p>It was not until just before dawn that she heard his step in +the hall, and his door open and close.</p> +<p>An hour later a sharp ring came at the street door bell. +A message for Mr Preston, the servant said, in answer to her +mistress’s question as she descended from the room +above.</p> +<p>“Was Mr Preston awake when you rapped on his +door?” asked the Baroness.</p> +<p>“Yes, madame, awake and dressed.”</p> +<p>Mr Preston ran hurriedly through the halls and out to the +street a moment later; and the Baroness, clothed in a +dressing-gown and silken slippers, tiptoed lightly to his +room. The bed had not been occupied the whole night. +On the table lay a note which the young man had begun when +interrupted by the message which he had thrown down beside +it.</p> +<p>The Baroness glanced at the note, on which the ink was still +moist, and read, “My dear Miss Lawrence, I want you to +release me from the ties formed only yesterday—I am basely +unworthy—” here the note ended. She now turned +her attention to the message which had prevented the completion +of the letter. It was signed by Judge Lawrence and ran as +follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">My dear +Boy</span>,—My wife was taken mortally ill this morning +just before daybreak. She cannot live many hours, our +physician says. Mabel is in a state of complete nervous +prostration caused by the shock of this calamity. I wish +you would come to us at once. I fear for my dear +child’s reason unless you prove able to calm and quiet her +through this ordeal. Hasten then, my dear son; every moment +before you arrive will seem an age of sorrow and anxiety to +me.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“S. <span +class="smcap">Lawrence</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A strange smile curved the corners of the Baroness’s +lips as she finished reading this note and tiptoed down the +stairs to her own room again.</p> +<p>Meantime the hour for her hot water arrived, and Berene did +not appear. The Baroness drank a quart of hot water every +morning as a tonic for her system, and another quart after +breakfast to reduce her flesh. Her excellent digestive +powers and the clear condition of her blood she attributed +largely to this habit.</p> +<p>After a few moments she rang the bell vigorously. +Maggie, the chambermaid, came in answer to the call.</p> +<p>“Please ask Miss Dumont” (Berene was always known +to the other servants as Miss Dumont) “to hurry with the +hot water,” the Baroness said.</p> +<p>“Miss Dumont has not yet come downstairs, +madame.”</p> +<p>“Not come down? Then will you please call her, +Maggie?”</p> +<p>The Baroness was always polite to her servants. She had +observed that a graciousness of speech toward her servants often +made up for a deficiency in wages. Maggie ascended to Miss +Dumont’s room, and returned with the information that Miss +Dumont had a severe headache, and begged the indulgence of madame +this morning.</p> +<p>Again that strange smile curved the corners of the +Baroness’s lips.</p> +<p>Maggie was requested to bring up hot water and coffee, and +great was her surprise to find the Baroness moving about the room +when she appeared with the tray.</p> +<p>Half-an-hour later Berene Dumont, standing by an open window +with her hands clasped behind her head, heard a light tap on her +door. In answer to a mechanical “Come,” the +Baroness appeared.</p> +<p>The rustle of her silken morning gown caused Berene to turn +suddenly and face her; and as she met the eyes of her visitor the +young woman’s pallor gave place to a wave of deep crimson, +which dyed her face and neck like the shadow of a red flag +falling on a camellia blossom.</p> +<p>“Maggie tells me you are ill this morning,” the +Baroness remarked after a moment’s silence. “I +am surprised to find you up and dressed. I came to see if I +could do anything for you.”</p> +<p>“You are very kind,” Berene answered, while in her +heart she thought how cruel was the expression in the face of the +woman before her, and how faded she appeared in the morning +light. “But I think I shall be quite well in a little +while, I only need to keep quiet for a few hours.”</p> +<p>“I fear you passed a sleepless night,” the +Baroness remarked with a solicitous tone, but with the same cruel +smile upon her lips. “I see you never opened your +bed. Something must have been in the air to keep us all +awake. I did not sleep an hour, and Mr Cheney never entered +his room till near morning. Yet I can understand his +wakefulness—he announced his engagement to Miss Mabel +Lawrence to me last evening, and a young man is not expected to +woo sleep easily after taking such an important step as +that. Judge Lawrence sent for him a few hours ago to come +and support Miss Mabel during the trial that the day is to bring +them in the death of Mrs Lawrence. The physician has +predicted the poor invalid’s near end. Sorrow follows +close on joy in this life.”</p> +<p>There was a moment’s silence; then Miss Dumont said: +“I think I will try to get a little sleep now, +madame. I thank you for your kind interest in +me.”</p> +<p>The Baroness descended to her room humming an air from an old +opera, and settled to the task of removing as much as possible +all evidences of fatigue and sleeplessness from her +countenance.</p> +<p>It has been said very prettily of the spruce-tree, that it +keeps the secret of its greenness well; so well that we hardly +know when it sheds its leaves. There are women who resemble +the spruce in their perennial youth, and the vigilance with which +they guard the secret of it. The Baroness was one of +these. Only her mirror shared this secret.</p> +<p>She was an adept at the art of preservation, and greatly as +she disliked physical exertion, she toiled laboriously over her +own person an hour at least every day, and never employed a maid +to assist her. One’s rival might buy one’s +maid, she reasoned, and it was well to have no confidant in these +matters.</p> +<p>She slipped off her dressing-gown and corset and set herself +to the task of pinching and mauling her throat, arms and +shoulders, to remove superfluous flesh, and strengthen muscles +and fibres to resist the flabby tendencies which time +produces. Then she used the dumb-bells vigorously for +fifteen minutes, and that was followed by five minutes of +relaxation. Next she lay on the floor flat upon her face, +her arms across her back, and lifted her head and chest +twenty-five times. This exercise was to replace flesh with +muscle across the abdomen. Then she rose to her feet, set +her small heels together, turned her toes out squarely, and, +keeping her body upright bent her knees out in a line with her +hips, sinking and rising rapidly fifteen times. This +produced pliancy of the body, and induced a healthy condition of +the loins and adjacent organs.</p> +<p>To further fight against the deadly enemy of obesity, she +lifted her arms above her head slowly until she touched her +finger tips, at the same time rising upon her tiptoes, while she +inhaled a long breath, and as slowly dropped to her heels, and +lowered her arms while she exhaled her breath. While these +exercises had been taking place, a tin cup of water had been +coming to the boiling point over an alcohol lamp. This was +now poured into a china bowl containing a small quantity of sweet +milk, which was always brought on her breakfast tray.</p> +<p>The Baroness seated herself before her mirror, in a glare of +cruel light which revealed every blemish in her complexion, every +line about the mouth and eyes.</p> +<p>“You are really hideously passée, mon +amie,” she observed as she peered at herself searchingly; +“but we will remedy all that.”</p> +<p>Dipping a soft linen handkerchief in the bowl of steaming milk +and water, she applied it to her face, holding it closely over +the brow and eyes and about the mouth, until every pore was +saturated and every weary drawn tissue fed and strengthened by +the tonic. After this she dashed ice-cold water over her +face. Still there were little folds at the corners of the +eyelids, and an ugly line across the brow, and these were +manipulated with painstaking care, and treated with mysterious +oils and fragrant astringents and finally washed in cool toilet +water and lightly brushed with powder, until at the end of an +hour’s labour, the face of the Baroness had resumed its +roseleaf bloom and transparent smoothness for which she was so +famous. And when by the closest inspection at the mirror, +in the broadest light, she saw no flaw in skin, hair, or teeth, +the Baroness proceeded to dress for a drive. Even the most +jealous rival would have been obliged to concede that she looked +like a woman of twenty-eight, that most fascinating of all ages, +as she took her seat in the carriage.</p> +<p>In the early days of her life in Beryngford, when as the +Baroness Le Fevre she had led society in the little town, Mrs +Lawrence had been one of her most devoted friends; Judge Lawrence +one of her most earnest, if silent admirers. As +“Baroness Brown” and as the landlady of “The +Palace” she had still maintained her position as friend of +the family, and the Lawrences, secure in their wealth and power, +had allowed her to do so, where some of the lower social lights +had dropped her from their visiting lists.</p> +<p>The Baroness seemed to exercise a sort of hypnotic power over +the fretful, nervous invalid who shared Judge Lawrence’s +name, and this influence was not wholly lost upon the Judge +himself, who never looked upon the Baroness’s abundant +charms, glowing with health, without giving vent to a profound +sigh like some hungry child standing before a +confectioner’s window.</p> +<p>The news of Mrs Lawrence’s dangerous illness was voiced +about the town by noon, and therefore the Baroness felt safe in +calling at the door to make inquiries, and to offer any +assistance which she might be able to render. Knowing her +intimate relations with the mistress of the house, the servant +admitted her to the parlour and announced her presence to Judge +Lawrence, who left the bedside of the invalid to tell the caller +in person that Mrs Lawrence had fallen into a peaceful slumber, +and that slight hopes were entertained of her possible +recovery. Scarcely had the words passed his lips, however, +when the nurse in attendance hurriedly called him. +“Mrs Lawrence is dead!” she cried. “She +breathed only twice after you left the room.”</p> +<p>The Baroness, shocked and startled, rose to go, feeling that +her presence longer would be an intrusion.</p> +<p>“Do not go,” cried the Judge in tones of +distress. “Mabel is nearly distracted, and this news +will excite her still further. We thought this morning that +she was on the verge of serious mental disorder. I sent for +her fiancé, Mr Cheney, and he has calmed her +somewhat. You always exerted a soothing and restful +influence over my wife, and you may have the same power with +Mabel. Stay with us, I beg of you, through the afternoon at +least.”</p> +<p>The Baroness sent her carriage home and remained in the +Lawrence mansion until the following morning. The condition +of Miss Lawrence was indeed serious. She passed from one +attack of hysteria to another, and it required the constant +attention of her fiancé and her mother’s friend to +keep her from acts of violence.</p> +<p>It was after midnight when she at last fell asleep, and +Preston Cheney in a state of complete exhaustion was shown to a +room, while the Baroness remained at the bedside of Miss +Lawrence.</p> +<p>When the Baroness and Mr Cheney returned to the Palace they +were struck with consternation to learn that Miss Dumont had +packed her trunk and departed from Beryngford on the three +o’clock train the previous day.</p> +<p>A brief note thanking the Baroness for her kindness, and +stating that she had imposed upon that kindness quite too long, +was her only farewell. There was no allusion to her plans +or her destination, and all inquiry and secret search failed to +find one trace of her. She seemed to vanish like a phantom +from the face of the earth.</p> +<p>No one had seen her leave the Palace, save the laundress, Mrs +Connor; and little this humble personage dreamed that Fate was +reserving for her an important rôle in the drama of a life +as yet unborn.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Whatever</span> hope of escape from his +self-imposed bondage Preston Cheney had entertained when he began +the note to his fiancée which the Baroness had read, +completely vanished during the weeks which followed the death of +Mrs Lawrence.</p> +<p>Mabel’s nervous condition was alarming, and her father +seemed to rely wholly upon his future son-in-law for courage and +moral support during the trying ordeal. Like most large men +of strong physique, Judge Lawrence was as helpless as an infant +in the presence of an ailing woman; and his experience as the +husband of a wife whose nerves were the only notable thing about +her, had given him an absolute terror of feminine invalids.</p> +<p>Mabel had never been very fond of her mother; she had not been +a loving or a dutiful daughter. A petulant child and an +irritable, fault-finding young woman, who had often been devoid +of sympathy for her parents, she now exhibited such an excess of +grief over the death of her mother that her reason seemed to be +threatened.</p> +<p>It was, in fact, quite as much anger as grief which caused her +nervous paroxysms. Mabel Lawrence had never since her +infancy known what it was to be thwarted in a wish. Both +parents had been slaves to her slightest caprice and she had +ruled the household with a look or a word. Death had +suddenly deprived her of a mother who was necessary to her +comfort and to whose presence she was accustomed, and her heart +was full of angry resentment at the fate which had dared to take +away a member of her household. It had never entered her +thoughts that death could devastate <i>her</i> home.</p> +<p>Other people lost fathers and mothers, of course; but that +Mabel Lawrence could be deprived of a parent seemed +incredible. Anger is a strong ingredient in the excessive +grief of every selfish nature.</p> +<p>Preston Cheney became more and more disheartened with the +prospect of his future, as he studied the character and +temperament of his fiancée during her first weeks of +loss.</p> +<p>But the net which he had woven was closing closer and closer +about him, and every day he became more hopelessly entangled in +its meshes.</p> +<p>At the end of one month, the family physician decided that +travel and change of air and scene was an imperative necessity +for Miss Lawrence. Judge Lawrence was engaged in some +important legal matters which rendered an extended journey +impossible for him. To trust Mabel in the hands of hired +nurses alone, was not advisable. It was her father who +suggested an early marriage and a European trip for bride and +groom, as the wisest expedient under the circumstances.</p> +<p>Like the prisoner in the iron room, who saw the walls slowly +but surely closing in to crush out his life, Preston Cheney saw +his wedding day approaching, and knew that his doom was +sealed.</p> +<p>There were many desperate hours, when, had he possessed the +slightest clue to the hiding-place of Berene Dumont, he would +have flown to her, even knowing that he left disgrace and death +behind him. He realised that he now owed a duty to the girl +he loved, higher and more imperative by far than any he owed to +his fiancée. But he had not the means to employ a +detective to find Berene; and he was not sure that, if found, she +might not spurn him. He had heard and read of cases where a +woman’s love had turned to bitter loathing and hatred for +the man who had not protected her in a moment of weakness. +He could think of no other cause which would lead Berene to +disappear in such a mysterious manner at such a time, and so the +days passed and he married Mabel Lawrence two months after the +death of her mother, and the young couple set forth immediately +on extended foreign travels. Fifteen months later they +returned to Beryngford with their infant daughter Alice. +Mrs Cheney was much improved in health, though still a great +sufferer from nervous disorders, a misfortune which the child +seemed to inherit. She would lie and scream for hours at a +time, clenching her small fists and growing purple in the face, +and all efforts of parents, nurses or physicians to soothe her, +served only to further increase her frenzy. She screamed +and beat the air with her thin arms and legs until nature +exhausted itself, then she fell into a heavy slumber and awoke in +good spirits.</p> +<p>These attacks came on frequently in the night, and as they +rendered Mrs Cheney very “nervous,” and caused a +panic among the nurses, it devolved upon the unhappy father to +endeavour to soothe the violent child. And while he walked +the floor with her or leaned over her crib, using all his strong +mental powers to control these unfortunate paroxysms, no vision +came to him of another child lying cuddled in her mother’s +arms in a distant town, a child of wonderful beauty and angelic +nature, born of love, and inheriting love’s divine +qualities.</p> +<p>A few months before the young couple returned to their native +soil, they received a letter which caused Preston the greatest +astonishment, and Mabel some hours of hysterical weeping. +This letter was written by Judge Lawrence, and announced his +marriage to Baroness Brown. Judge Lawrence had been a +widower more than a year when the Baroness took the book of his +heart, in which he supposed the hand of romance had long ago +written “finis,” and turning it to his astonished +eyes revealed a whole volume of love’s love.</p> +<p>It is in the second reading of their hearts that the majority +of men find the most interesting literature.</p> +<p>Before the Baroness had been three months his wife, the long +years of martyrdom he had endured as the husband of Mabel’s +mother seemed like a nightmare dream to Judge Lawrence; and all +of life, hope and happiness was embodied in the woman who ruled +his destiny with a hypnotic sway no one could dispute, yet a +woman whose heart still throbbed with a stubborn and lawless +passion for the man who called her husband father.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">More</span> than two decades had passed +since Preston Cheney followed the dictates of his ambition and +married Mabel Lawrence.</p> +<p>Many of his early hopes and desires had been realised during +these years. He had attained to high political positions; +and honour and wealth were his to enjoy. Yet Senator +Cheney, as he was now known, was far from a happy man. +Disappointment was written in every lineament of his face, +restlessness and discontent spoke in his every movement, and at +times the spirit of despair seemed to look from the depths of his +eyes.</p> +<p>To a man of any nobility of nature, there can be small +satisfaction in honours which he knows are bought with money and +bribes; and to the proud young American there was the additional +sting of knowing that even the money by which his honours were +purchased was not his own.</p> +<p>It was the second Mrs Lawrence (still designated as the +“Baroness” by her stepdaughter and by old +acquaintances) to whom Preston owed the constant reminder of his +dependence upon the purse of his father-in-law. In those +subtle, occult ways known only to a jealous and designing nature, +the Baroness found it possible to make Preston’s life a +torture, without revealing her weapons of warfare to her husband; +indeed, without allowing him to even smell the powder, while she +still kept up a constant small fire upon the helpless enemy.</p> +<p>Owing to the fact that Mabel had come as completely under the +hypnotic influence of the Baroness as the first Mrs Lawrence had +been during her lifetime, Preston was subjected to a great deal +more of her persecutions than would otherwise have been +possible. Mabel was never happier than when enjoying the +companionship of her new mother; a condition of things which +pleased the Judge as much as it made his son-in-law +miserable.</p> +<p>With a malicious adroitness possible only to such a woman as +the second Mrs Lawrence, she endeared herself to Mrs Cheney, by a +thousand flattering and caressing ways, and by a constant +exhibition of sympathy, which to a weak and selfish nature is as +pleasing as it is distasteful to the proud and strong. And +by this inexhaustible flow of sympathetic feeling, she caused the +wife to drift farther and farther away from her husband’s +influence, and to accuse him of all manner of shortcomings and +faults which had not suggested themselves to her own mind.</p> +<p>Mabel had not given or demanded a devoted love when she +married Preston Cheney. She was quite satisfied to bear his +name, and do the honours of his house, and to be let alone as +much as possible. It was the name, not the estate, of +wifehood she desired; and motherhood she had accepted with +reluctance and distaste.</p> +<p>Never was a more undesired or unwelcome child born than her +daughter Alice, and the helpless infant shared with its father +the resentful anger which dominated her unwilling mother the +wretched months before its advent into earth life.</p> +<p>To be let alone and allowed to follow her own whims and +desires, and never to be crossed in any wish, was all Mrs Cheney +asked of her husband.</p> +<p>This rôle was one he had very willingly permitted her to +pursue, since with every passing week and month he found less and +less to win or bind him to his wife. Wretched as this +condition of life was, it might at least have settled into a +monotonous calm, undisturbed by strife, but for the molesting +“sympathy” of the Baroness.</p> +<p>“Poor thing, here you are alone again,” she would +say on entering the house where Mabel lounged or lolled, quite +content with her situation until the tone and words of her +stepmother aroused a resentful consciousness of being +neglected. Again the Baroness would say:</p> +<p>“I do think you are such a brave little darling to carry +so smiling a face about with all you have to endure.” +Or, “Very few wives would bear what you bear and hide every +vestige of unhappiness from the world. You are a wonderful +and admirable character in my eyes.” Or, “It +seems so strange that your husband does not adore you—but +men are blind to the best qualities in women like you. I +never hear Mr Cheney praising other women without a sad and +almost resentful feeling in my heart, realising how superior you +are to all of his favourites.” It was the insidious +effect of poisoned flattery like this, which made the Baroness a +ruling power in the Cheney household, and at the same time turned +an already cold and unloving wife into a jealous and nagging +tyrant who rendered the young statesman’s home the most +dreaded place on earth to him, and caused him to live away from +it as much as possible.</p> +<p>His only child, Alice, a frail, hysterical girl, devoid of +beauty or grace, gave him but little comfort or +satisfaction. Indeed she was but an added disappointment +and pain in his life. Indulged in every selfish thought by +her mother and the Baroness, peevish and petulant, always ailing, +complaining and discontented, and still a victim to the nervous +disorders inherited from her mother, it was small wonder that +Senator Cheney took no more delight in the rôle of father +than he had found in the rôle of husband.</p> +<p>Alice was given every advantage which money could +purchase. But her delicate health had rendered systematic +study of any kind impossible, and her twentieth birthday found +her with no education, with no use of her reasoning or will +powers, but with a complete and beautiful wardrobe in which to +masquerade and air her poor little attempts at music, art, or +conversation.</p> +<p>Judge Lawrence died when Alice was fifteen years of age, +leaving both his widow and his daughter handsomely provided +for.</p> +<p>The Baroness not only possessed the Beryngford homestead, but +a house in Washington as well; and both of these were occupied by +tenants, for Mabel insisted upon having her stepmother dwell +under her own roof. Senator Cheney had purchased a house in +New York to gratify his wife and daughter, and it was here the +family resided, when not in Washington or at the seaside +resorts. Both women wished to forget, and to make others +forget, that they had ever lived in Beryngford. They never +visited the place and never referred to it. They desired to +be considered “New Yorkers” and always spoke of +themselves as such.</p> +<p>The Baroness was now hopelessly passée. Yet it +was the revealing of the inner woman, rather than the withering +of the exterior, which betrayed her years. The woman who +understands the art of bodily preservation can, with constant +toil and care, retain an appearance of youth and charm into +middle life; but she who would pass that dreaded meridian, and +still remain a goodly sight for the eyes of men, must possess, in +addition to all the secrets of the toilet, those divine elixirs, +unselfishness and love for humanity. Faith in divine +powers, too, and resignation to earthly ills, must do their part +to lend the fading eye lustre and to give a softening glow to the +paling cheek. Before middle life, it is the outer woman who +is seen; after middle life, skilled as she may be by art and +however endowed my nature, yet the inner woman becomes visible to +the least discerning eye, and the thoughts and feelings which +have dominated her during all the past, are shown upon her face +and form like printed words upon the open leaves of a book. +That is why so many young beauties become ugly old ladies, and +why plain faces sometimes are beautiful in age.</p> +<p>The Baroness had been unremitting in the care of her person, +and she had by this toil saved her figure from becoming gross, +retaining the upright carriage and the tapering waist of youth, +though she was upon the verge of her sixtieth birthday. Her +complexion, too, owing to her careful diet, her hours of repose, +and her knowledge of skin foods and lotions, remained smooth, +fair and unfurrowed. But the long-guarded expression in her +blue eyes of childlike innocence had given place to the hard look +of a selfish and unhappy nature, and the lines about the small +mouth accented the expression of the eyes.</p> +<p>It was, despite its preservation of Nature’s gifts, and +despite its forced smiles, the face of a selfish, cruel +pessimist, disappointed in her past and with no uplifting faith +to brighten the future.</p> +<p>The Baroness had been the wife of Judge Lawrence a number of +years, before she relinquished her hopes of one day making +Preston Cheney respond to the passion which burned unquenched in +her breast. It had been with the idea of augmenting the +interests of the man whom she believed to be her future lover, +that she aided and urged on her husband in his efforts to procure +place and honour for his son-in-law.</p> +<p>It was this idea which caused her to widen the breach between +wife and husband by every subtle means in her power; and it was +when this idea began to lose colour and substance and drop away +among the wreckage of past hopes, that the Baroness ceased to +compliment and began to taunt Preston Cheney with his dependence +upon his father-in-law, and to otherwise goad and torment the +unhappy man. And Preston Cheney grew into the habit of +staying anywhere longer than at home.</p> +<p>During the last ten years the Baroness had seemed to abandon +all thoughts of gallant adventure. When the woman who has +found life and pleasures only in coquetry and conquest is forced +to relinquish these delights, she becomes either very devout or +very malicious.</p> +<p>The Baroness was devoid of religious feelings, and she became, +therefore, the most bitter and caustic of cynical critics at +heart, though she guarded her expression of these sentiments from +policy.</p> +<p>Yet to Mabel she expressed herself freely, knowing that her +listener enjoyed no conversation so much as that of gossip and +criticism. A beautiful or attractive woman was the target +for her most cruel shafts of sarcasm, and indeed no woman was +safe from her secret malice save Mabel and Alice, over whom she +found it a greater pleasure to exercise her hypnotic +control. For Alice, indeed, the Baroness entertained a +peculiar affection. The fact that she was the child of the +man to whom she had given the strongest passion of her life, and +the girl’s lack of personal beauty, and her unfortunate +physical condition, awoke a medley of love, pity and protection +in the heart of this strange woman.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Baroness had always been a +churchgoing woman, yet she had never united with any church, or +subscribed to any creed.</p> +<p>Religious observance was only an implement of social warfare +with her. Wherever her lot was cast, she made it her +business to discover which church the fashionable people of the +town frequented, and to become a familiar and liberal-handed +personage in that edifice.</p> +<p>Judge Lawrence and his family were High Church Episcopalians, +and the second Mrs Lawrence slipped gracefully into the pew +vacated by the first, and became a much more important feature in +the congregation, owing to her good health and extreme desire for +popularity. Mabel and Alice were devout believers in the +orthodox dogmas which have taken the place of the simple +teachings of Christ in so many of our churches to-day. They +believed that people who did not go to church would stand a very +poor chance of heaven; and that a strict observance of a Sunday +religion would ensure them a passport into God’s +favour. When they returned from divine service and mangled +the character and attire of their neighbours over the Sunday +dinner-table, no idea entered their heads or hearts that they had +sinned against the Holy Ghost. The pastor of their church +knew them to be selfish, worldly-minded women; yet he +administered the holy sacrament to them without compunction of +conscience, and never by question or remark implied a doubt of +their true sincerity in things religious. They believed in +the creed of his church, and they paid liberally for the support +of that church. What more could he ask?</p> +<p>This had been true of the pastor in Beryngford, and it proved +equally true of their spiritual adviser in Washington and in New +York.</p> +<p>Just across the aisle from the Lawrences sat a rich financier, +in his sumptuously cushioned pew. During six days of each +week he was engaged in crushing life and hope out of the hearts +of the poor, under his juggernaut wheels of monopoly. His +name was known far and near, as that of a powerful and cruel +speculator, who did not hesitate to pauperise his nearest friends +if they placed themselves in his reach. That he was a thief +and a robber, no one ever denied; yet so colossal were his +thefts, so bold and successful his robberies, the public gazed +upon him with a sort of stupefied awe, and allowed him to +proceed, while miserable tramps, who stole overcoats or robbed +money drawers, were incarcerated for a term of years, and then +sternly refused assistance afterward by good people, who place no +confidence in jail birds.</p> +<p>But each Sunday this successful robber occupied his +high-priced church pew, devoutly listening to the divine +word.</p> +<p>He never failed to partake of the holy communion, nor was his +right to do so ever questioned.</p> +<p>The rector of the church knew his record perfectly; knew that +his gains were ill-gotten blood money, ground from the suffering +poor by the power of monopoly, and from confiding fools by smart +lures and scheming tricks. But this young clergyman, having +recently been called to preside over the fashionable church, had +no idea of being so impolite as to refuse to administer the bread +and wine to one of its most liberal supporters!</p> +<p>There were constant demands upon the treasury of the church; +it required a vast outlay of money to maintain the splendour and +elegance of the temple which held its head so high above many +others; and there were large charities to be sustained, not to +mention its rector’s princely salary. The millionaire +pewholder was a liberal giver. It rarely occurs to the +fashionable dispensers of spiritual knowledge to ask whether the +devil’s money should be used to gild the Lord’s +temple; nor to question if it be a wise religion which allows a +man to rob his neighbours on weekdays, to give to the cause of +charity on Sundays.</p> +<p>And yet if every clergyman and priest in the land were to make +and maintain these standards for their followers, there might be +an astonishing decrease in the needs of the poor and +unfortunate.</p> +<p>Were every church member obliged to open his month’s +ledgers to a competent jury of inspectors, before he was allowed +to take the holy sacrament and avow himself a humble follower of +Christ, what a revolution might ensue! How church spires +would crumble for lack of support, and poorhouses lessen in +number for lack of inmates!</p> +<p>But the leniency of clergymen toward the shortcomings of their +wealthy parishioners is often a touching lesson in charity to the +thoughtful observer who stands outside the fold.</p> +<p>For how could they obtain money to convert the heathen, unless +this sweet cloak of charity were cast over the sins of the +liberal rich? Christ is crucified by the fashionable +clergymen to-day more cruelly than he was by the Jews of old.</p> +<p>Senator Cheney was not a church member, and he seldom attended +service. This was a matter of great solicitude to his wife +and daughter. The Baroness felt it to be a mistake on the +part of Senator Cheney, and even Judge Lawrence, who adored his +son-in-law, regretted the young man’s indifference to +things spiritual. But with all Preston Cheney’s +worldly ambitions and weaknesses, there was a vein of sincerity +in his nature which forbade his feigning a faith he did not feel; +and the daily lives of the three feminine members of his family +were so in disaccord with his views of religion that he felt no +incentive to follow in their footsteps. Judge Lawrence he +knew to be an honest, loyal-hearted, God and humanity loving +man. “A true Christian by nature and +education,” he said of his father-in-law, “but I am +not born with his tendency to religious observance, and I see +less and less in the churches to lead me into the fold. It +seems to me that these religious institutions are getting to be +vast monopolistic corporations like the railroads and oil trusts, +and the like. I see very little of the spirit of Christ in +orthodox people to-day.”</p> +<p>Meanwhile Senator Cheney’s purse was always open to any +demand the church made; he believed in churches as benevolent if +not soul-saving institutions, and cheerfully aided their +charitable work.</p> +<p>The rector of St Blank’s, the fashionable edifice where +the ladies of the Cheney household obtained spiritual manna in +New York, died when Alice was sixteen years old. He was a +good old man, and a sincere Episcopalian, and whatever +originality of thought or expression he may have lacked, his +strict observance of the High Church code of ethics maintained +the tone of his church and rendered him an object of reverence to +his congregation. His successor was Reverend Arthur Emerson +Stuart, a young man barely thirty years of age, heir to a +comfortable fortune, gifted with strong intellectual powers and +dowered with physical attractions.</p> +<p>It was not a case of natural selection which caused Arthur +Stuart to adopt the church as a profession. It was the +result of his middle name. Mrs Stuart had been an +Emerson—in some remote way her family claimed relationship +with Ralph Waldo. Her father and grandfather and several +uncles had been clergymen. She married a broker, who left +her a rich widow with one child, a son. From the hour this +son was born his mother designed him for the clergy, and brought +him up with the idea firmly while gently fixed in his mind.</p> +<p>Whatever seed a mother plants in a young child’s mind, +carefully watches over, prunes and waters, and exposes to sun and +shade, is quite certain to grow, if the soil is not wholly stony +ground.</p> +<p>Arthur Stuart adored his mother, and stifling some commercial +instincts inherited from the parental side, he turned his +attention to the ministry and entered upon his chosen work when +only twenty-five years of age. Eloquent, dramatic in +speech, handsome, and magnetic in person, independent in fortune, +and of excellent lineage on the mother’s side, it was not +surprising that he was called to take charge of the spiritual +welfare of fashionable St Blank’s Church on the death of +the old pastor; or that, having taken the charge, he became +immensely popular, especially with the ladies of his +congregation. And from the first Sabbath day when they +looked up from their expensive pew into the handsome face of +their new rector, there was but one man in the world for Mabel +Cheney and her daughter Alice, and that was the Reverend Arthur +Emerson Stuart.</p> +<p>It has been said by a great and wise teacher, that we may +worship the god in the human being, but never the human being as +God. This distinction is rarely drawn by women, I fear, +when their spiritual teacher is a young and handsome man. +The ladies of the Rev. Arthur Stuart’s congregation went +home to dream, not of the Creator and Maker of all things, nor of +the divine Man, but of the handsome face, stalwart form and +magnetic voice of the young rector. They feasted their eyes +upon his agreeable person, rather than their souls upon his words +of salvation. Disappointed wives, lonely spinsters and +romantic girls believed they were coming nearer to spiritual +truths in their increased desire to attend service, while in fact +they were merely drawn nearer to a very attractive male +personality.</p> +<p>There was not the holy flame in the young clergyman’s +own heart to ignite other souls; but his strong magnetism was +perceptible to all, and they did not realise the +difference. And meantime the church grew and prospered +amazingly.</p> +<p>It was observed by the congregation of St Blank’s +Church, shortly after the advent of the new rector, that a new +organist also occupied the organ loft; and inquiry elicited the +fact that the old man who had officiated in that capacity during +many years, had been retired on a pension, while a young lady who +needed the position and the salary had been chosen to fill the +vacancy.</p> +<p>That the change was for the better could not be +questioned. Never before had such music pealed forth under +the tall spires of St Blank’s. The new organist +seemed inspired; and many people in the fashionable congregation, +hearing that this wonderful musician was a young woman, lingered +near the church door after service to catch a glimpse of her as +she descended from the loft.</p> +<p>A goodly sight she was, indeed, for human eyes to gaze +upon. Young, of medium height and perfectly symmetry of +shape, her blonde hair and satin skin and eyes of velvet darkness +were but her lesser charms. That which riveted the gaze of +every beholder, and drew all eyes to her whereever she passed, +was her air of radiant health and happiness, which emanated from +her like the perfume from a flower.</p> +<p>A sad countenance may render a heroine of romance attractive +in a book, but in real life there is no charm at once so rare and +so fascinating as happiness. Did you ever think how few +faces of the grown up, however young, are really happy in +expression? Discontent, restlessness, longing, unsatisfied +ambition or ill health mar ninety and nine of every hundred faces +we meet in the daily walks of life. When we look upon a +countenance which sparkles with health and absolute joy in life, +we turn and look again and yet again, charmed and fascinated, +though we do not know why.</p> +<p>It was such a face that Joy Irving, the new organist of St +Blank’s Church, flashed upon the people who had lingered +near the door to see her pass out. Among those who lingered +was the Baroness; and all day she carried about with her the +memory of that sparkling countenance; and strive as she would, +she could not drive away a vague, strange uneasiness which the +sight of that face had caused her.</p> +<p>Yet a vision of youth and beauty always made the Baroness +unhappy, now that both blessings were irrevocably lost to +her.</p> +<p>This particular young face, however, stirred her with those +half-painful, half-pleasurable emotions which certain perfumes +awake in us—vague reminders of joys lost or unattained, of +dreams broken or unrealised. Added to this, it reminded her +of someone she had known, yet she could not place the +resemblance.</p> +<p>“Oh, to be young and beautiful like that!” she +sighed as she buried her face in her pillow that night. +“And since I cannot be, if only Alice had that girl’s +face.”</p> +<p>And because Alice did not have it, the Baroness went to sleep +with a feeling of bitter resentment against its possessor, the +beautiful young organist of St Blank’s.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Up</span> in the loft of St Blank’s +Church the young organist had been practising the whole +morning. People paused on the street to listen to the +glorious sounds, and were thrilled by them, as one is only +thrilled when the strong personality of the player enters into +the execution.</p> +<p>Down into the committee-room, where several deacons and the +young rector were seated discussing some question pertaining to +the well-being of the church, the music penetrated too, causing +the business which had brought them together, to be suspended +temporarily.</p> +<p>“It is a sin to talk while music like that can be +heard,” remarked one man. “You have found a +genius in this new organist, Rector.”</p> +<p>The young man nodded silently, his eyes half closed with an +expression of somewhat sensuous enjoyment of the throbbing chords +which vibrated in perfect unison with the beating of his strong +pulses.</p> +<p>“Where does she come from?” asked the deacon, as a +pause in the music occurred.</p> +<p>“Her father was an earnest and prominent member of the +little church down-town of which I had charge during several +years,” replied the young man. “Miss Irving was +scarcely more than a child when she volunteered her services as +organist. The position brought her no remuneration, and at +that time she did not need it. Young as she was, the girl +was one of the most active workers among the poor, and I often +met her in my visits to the sick and unfortunate. She had +been a musical prodigy from the cradle, and Mr Irving had given +her every advantage to study and perfect her art.</p> +<p>“I was naturally much interested in her. Mr +Irving’s long illness left his wife and daughter without +means of support, at his death, and when I was called to take +charge of St Blank’s, I at once realised the benefit to the +family as well as to my church could I secure the young lady the +position here as organist. I am glad that my congregation +seem so well satisfied with my choice.”</p> +<p>Again the organ pealed forth, this time in that passionate +music originally written for the Garden Scene in <i>Faust</i>, +and which the church has boldly taken and arranged as a quartette +to the words, “Come unto me.”</p> +<p>It may be that to some who listen, it is the divine spirit +which makes its appeal through those stirring strains; but to the +rector of St Blank’s, at least on that morning, it was +human heart, calling unto human heart. Mr Stuart and the +deacons sat silently drinking in the music. At length the +rector rose. “I think perhaps we had better drop the +matter under discussion for to-day,” he said. +“We can meet here Monday evening at five o’clock if +agreeable to you all, and finish the details. There are +other and more important affairs waiting for me now.”</p> +<p>The deacons departed, and the young rector sank back in his +chair, and gave himself up to the enjoyment of the sounds which +flooded not only the room, but his brain, heart and soul.</p> +<p>“Queer,” he said to himself as the door closed +behind the human pillars of his church. “Queer, but I +felt as if the presence of those men was an intrusion upon +something belonging personally to me. I wonder why I am so +peculiarly affected by this girl’s music? It arouses +my brain to action, it awakens ambition and gives me courage and +hope, and yet—” He paused before allowing his +feeling to shape itself into thoughts. Then closing his +eyes and clasping his hands behind his head while the music +surged about him, he lay back in his easy-chair as a bather might +lie back and float upon the water, and his unfinished sentence +took shape thus: “And yet stronger than all other feelings +which her music arouses in me, is the desire to possess the +musician for my very own for ever; ah, well! the Roman Catholics +are wise in not allowing their priests and their nuns to listen +to all even so-called sacred music.”</p> +<p>It was perhaps ten minutes later that Joy Irving became +conscious that she was not alone in the organ loft. She had +neither heard nor seen his entrance, but she felt the presence of +her rector, and turned to find him silently watching her. +She played her phrase to the end, before she greeted him with +other than a smile. Then she apologised, saying: +“Even one’s rector must wait for a musical phrase to +reach its period. Angels may interrupt the rendition of a +great work, but not man. That were sacrilege. You +see, I was really praying, when you entered, though my heart +spoke through my fingers instead of my lips.”</p> +<p>“You need not apologise,” the young man +answered. “One who receives your smile would be +ungrateful indeed if he asked for more. That alone would +render the darkest spot radiant with light and welcome to +me.”</p> +<p>The girl’s pink cheek flushed crimson, like a rose +bathed in the sunset colours of the sky.</p> +<p>“I did not think you were a man to coin pretty +speeches,” she said.</p> +<p>“Your estimate of me was a wise one. You read +human nature correctly. But come and walk in the park with +me. You will overtax yourself if you practise any +longer. The sunlight and the air are vying with each other +to-day to see which can be the most intoxicating. Come and +enjoy their sparring match with me; I want to talk to you about +one of my unfortunate parishioners. It is a peculiarly +pathetic case. I think you can help and advise me in the +matter.”</p> +<p>It was a superb morning in early October. New York was +like a beautiful woman arrayed in her fresh autumn costume, +disporting herself before admiring eyes.</p> +<p>Absorbed in each other’s society, their pulses beating +high with youth, love and health; the young couple walked through +the crowded avenues of the great city, as happily and as +naturally as Adam and Eve might have walked in the Garden of Eden +the morning after Creation.</p> +<p>Both were city born and city bred, yet both were as +unfashionable and untrammelled by custom as two children of the +plains.</p> +<p>In the very heart of the greatest metropolis in America, there +are people who live and retain all the primitive simplicity of +village life and thought. Mr Irving had been one of +these. Coming to New York from an interior village when a +young man, he had, through simple and quiet tastes and religious +convictions, kept himself wholly free from the social life of the +city in which he lived. After his marriage his entire +happiness lay in his home, and Joy was reared by parents who made +her world. Mrs Irving sympathised fully with her husband in +his distaste for society, and her delicate health rendered her +almost a recluse from the world.</p> +<p>A few pleasant acquaintances, no intimates, music, books, and +a large share of her time given to charitable work, composed the +life of Joy Irving.</p> +<p>She had never been in a fashionable assemblage; she had never +attended a theatre, as Mr Irving did not approve of them.</p> +<p>Extremely fond of outdoor life, she walked, unattended, +wherever her mood led her. As she had no acquaintances +among society people, she knew nothing and cared less for the +rules which govern the promenading habits of young women in New +York. Her sweet face and graceful figure were well known +among the poorer quarters of the city, and it was through her +work in such places that Arthur Stuart’s attention had +first been called to her.</p> +<p>As for him, he was filled with that high, but not always wise, +disdain for society and its customs, which we so often find in +town-bred young men of intellectual pursuits. He was +clean-minded, independent, sure of his own purposes, and wholly +indifferent to the opinions of inferiors regarding his +habits.</p> +<p>He loved the park, and he asked Joy to walk with him there, as +freely as he would have asked her to sit with him in a +conservatory. It was a great delight to the young girl to +go.</p> +<p>“It seems such a pity that the women of New York get so +little benefit from this beautiful park,” she said as they +strolled along through the winding paths together. +“The wealthy people enjoy it in a way from their carriages, +and the poor people no doubt derive new life from their Sunday +promenades here. But there are thousands like myself who +are almost wholly debarred from its pleasures. I have +always wanted to walk here, but once I came and a rude man in a +carriage spoke to me. Mother told me never to come alone +again. It seems strange to me that men who are so proud of +their strength, and who should be the natural protectors of +woman, can belittle themselves by annoying or frightening her +when alone. I am sure that same man would never think of +speaking to me now that I am with you. How cowardly he +seems when you think of it! Yet I am told there are many +like him, though that was my only experience of the +kind.”</p> +<p>“Yes, there are many like him,” the rector +answered. “But you must remember how short a time man +has been evolving from a lower animal condition to his present +state, and how much higher he is to-day than he was a hundred +years ago even, when occasional drunkenness was considered an +attribute of a gentleman. Now it is a vice of which he is +ashamed.”</p> +<p>“Then you believe in evolution?” Joy asked with a +note of surprise in her voice.</p> +<p>“Yes, I surely do; nor does the belief conflict with my +religious faith. I believe in many things I could not +preach from my pulpit. My congregation is not ready for +broad truths. I am like an eclectic physician—I suit +my treatment to my patient—I administer the old school or +the new school medicaments as the case demands.”</p> +<p>“It seems to me there can be but one school in spiritual +matters,” Joy said gravely—“the right +one. And I think one should preach and teach what he +believes to be true and right, no matter what his congregation +demands. Oh, forgive me. I am very rude to speak like +that to you!” And she blushed and paled with fright +at her boldness.</p> +<p>They were seated on a rustic bench now, under the shadow of a +great tree.</p> +<p>The rector smiled, his eyes fixed with pleased satisfaction on +the girl’s beautiful face, with its changing colour and +expression. He felt he could well afford to be criticised +or rebuked by her, if the result was so gratifying to his +sight. The young rector of St Blank’s lived very much +more in his senses than in his ideals.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you are right,” he said. “I +sometimes wish I had greater courage of my convictions. I +think I could have, were you to stimulate me with such words +often. But my mother is so afraid that I will wander from +the old dogmas, that I am constantly checking myself. +However, in regard to the case I mentioned to you—it is a +delicate subject, but you are not like ordinary young women, and +you and I have stood beside so many sick-beds and death-beds +together that we can speak as man to man, or woman to woman, with +no false modesty to bar our speech.</p> +<p>“A very sad case has come to my knowledge of late. +Miss Adams, a woman who for some years has been a devout member +of St Blank’s Church, has several times mentioned her niece +to me, a young girl who was away at boarding school. A few +months ago the young girl graduated and came to live with this +aunt. I remember her as a bright, buoyant and very +intelligent girl. I have not seen her now during two +months; and last week I asked Miss Adams what had become of her +niece. Then the poor woman broke into sobs and told me the +sad state of affairs. It seems that the girl Marah is her +daughter. The poor mother had believed she could guard the +truth from her child, and had educated her as her niece, and was +now prepared to enjoy her companionship, when some +mischief-making gossip dug up the old scandal and imparted the +facts to Marah.</p> +<p>“The girl came to Miss Adams and demanded the truth, and +the mother confessed. Then the daughter settled into a +profound melancholy, from which nothing seemed to rouse +her. She will not go out, remains in the house, and broods +constantly over her disgrace.</p> +<p>“It occurred to me that if Marah Adams could be brought +out of herself and interested in some work, or study, it would be +the salvation of her reason. Her mother told me she is an +accomplished musician, but that she refuses to touch her piano +now. I thought you might take her as an understudy on the +organ, and by your influence and association lead her out of +herself. You could make her acquaintance through +approaching the mother who is a milliner, on business, and your +tact would do the rest. In all my large and wealthy +congregation I know of no other woman to whom I could appeal for +aid in this delicate matter, so I am sure you will pardon +me. In fact, I fear were the matter to be known in the +congregation at all, it would lead to renewed pain and added +hurts for both Miss Adams and her daughter. You know women +can be so cruel to each other in subtle ways, and I have seen +almost death-blows dealt in church aisles by one church member to +another.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that is a terrible reflection on Christians,” +cried Joy, who, a born Christ-woman, believed that all professed +church members must feel the same divine spirit of sympathy and +charity which burned in her own sweet soul.</p> +<p>“No, it is a simple truth—an unfortunate +fact,” the young man replied. “I preach sermons +at such members of my church, but they seldom take them +home. They think I mean somebody else. These are the +people who follow the letter and not the spirit of the +church. But one such member as you, recompenses me for a +score of the others. I felt I must come to you with the +Marah Adams affair.”</p> +<p>Joy was still thinking of the reflection the rector had cast +upon his congregation. It hurt her, and she protested.</p> +<p>“Oh, surely,” she said, “you cannot mean +that I am the only one of the professed Christians in your church +who would show mercy and sympathy to poor Miss Adams. +Surely few, very few, would forget Christ’s words to Mary +Magdalene, ‘Go and sin no more,’ or fail to forgive +as He forgave. She has led such a good life all these +years.”</p> +<p>The rector smiled sadly.</p> +<p>“You judge others by your own true heart,” he +said. “But I know the world as it is. Yes, the +members of my church would forgive Miss Adams for her +sin—and cut her dead. They would daily crucify her +and her innocent child by their cold scorn or utter ignoring of +them. They would not allow their daughters to associate +with this blameless girl, because of her mother’s +misstep.</p> +<p>“It is the same in and out of the churches. Twenty +people will repeat Christ’s words to a repentant sinner, +but nineteen of that twenty interpolate a few words of their own, +through tone, gesture or manner, until ‘Go and sin no +more’ sounds to the poor unfortunate more like ‘Go +just as far away from me and mine as you can get—and sin no +more!’ Only one in that score puts Christ’s +merciful and tender meaning into the phrase and tries by +sympathetic association to make it possible for the sinner to sin +no more. I felt you were that one, and so I appealed to you +in this matter about Marah Adams.”</p> +<p>Joy’s eyes were full of tears. “You must +know more of human nature than I do,” she said, “but +I hate terribly to think you are right in this estimate of the +people of your congregation. I will go and see what I can +do for this girl to-morrow. Poor child, poor mother, to +pass through a second Gethsemane for her sin. I think any +girl or boy whose home life is shadowed, is to be pitied. I +have always had such a happy home, and such dear parents, the +world would seem insupportable, I am sure, were I to face it +without that background. Dear papa’s death was a +great blow, and mother’s ill health has been a sorrow, but +we have always been so happy and harmonious, and that, I think, +is worth more than a fortune to a child. Poor, poor +Marah—unable to respect her mother, what a terrible thing +it all is!”</p> +<p>“Yes, it is a sad affair. I cannot help thinking +it would have been a pardonable lie if Miss Adams had denied the +truth when the girl confronted her with the story. It is +the one situation in life where a lie is excusable, I +think. It would have saved this poor girl no end of sorrow, +and it could not have added much to the mother’s +burden. I think lying must have originated with an erring +woman.”</p> +<p>Joy looked at her rector with startled eyes. “A +lie is never excusable,” she said, “and I do not +believe it ever saves sorrow. But I see you do not mean +what you say, you only feel very sorry for the girl; and you +surely do not forget that the lie originated with Satan, who told +a falsehood to Eve.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Ever</span> since early girlhood Joy +Irving had formed a habit of jotting down in black and white her +own ideas regarding any book, painting, concert, conversation or +sermon, which interested her, and epitomising the train of +thought to which they led.</p> +<p>The evening after her walk and talk with the rector of St +Blank’s, she took out her note-book, which bore a date four +years old under its title “My Impressions,” and read +over the last page of entries. They had evidently been +written at the close of some Sabbath day and ran as +follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>Many a kneeling woman is more occupied with how +her skirts hang than how her prayers ascend. I am inclined +to think we all ought to wear a uniform to church if we would +really worship there. God must grow weary looking down on +so many new bonnets.</p> +<p>I wore a smart hat to church to-day, and I found myself +criticising every other woman’s bonnet during service, so +that I failed in some of my responses.</p> +<p>If we could all be compelled by some mysterious power to +<i>think aloud</i> on Sunday, what a veritable holy day we would +make of it! Though we are taught from childhood that God +hears our thoughts, the best of us would be afraid to have our +nearest friends know them.</p> +<p>I sometimes think it is a presumption on the part of any man +to rise in the pulpit and undertake to tell me about a Creator +with whom I feel every whit as well acquainted as he. I +suppose such thoughts are wicked, however, and should be +suppressed.</p> +<p>It is a curious fact, that the most aggressively sensitive +persons are at heart the most conceited.</p> +<p>I wish people smiled more in church aisles. In fact, I +think we all laugh at one another too much and smile at one +another too seldom.</p> +<p>After the devil had made all the trouble for woman he could +with the fig leaf, he introduced the French heel.</p> +<p>It is well to see the ridiculous side of things, but not of +people.</p> +<p>Most of us would rather be popular than right.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>To these impressions Joy added the following:—</p> +<blockquote><p>It is not the interior of one’s house, but +the interior of one’s mind which makes home.</p> +<p>It seems to me that to be, is to love. I can conceive of +no state of existence which is not permeated with this feeling +toward something, somebody or the illimitable +“nothing” which is mother to everything.</p> +<p>I wish we had more religion in the world and fewer +churches.</p> +<p>People who believe in no God, invariably exalt themselves into +His position, and worship with the very idolatry they decry in +others.</p> +<p>Music is the echo of the rhythm of God’s +respirations.</p> +<p>Poetry is the effort of the divine part of man to formulate a +worthy language in which to converse with angels.</p> +<p>Painting and sculpture seem to me the most presumptuous of the +arts. They are an effort of man to outdo God in +creation. He never made a perfect form or face—the +artist alone makes them.</p> +<p>I am sure I do not play the organ as well at St Blank’s +as I played it in the little church where I gave my services and +was unknown. People are praising me too much here, and this +mars all spontaneity.</p> +<p>The very first hour of positive success is often the last hour +of great achievement. So soon as we are conscious of the +admiring and expectant gaze of men, we cease to commune with +God. It is when we are unknown to or neglected by mortals, +that we reach up to the Infinite and are inspired.</p> +<p>I have seen Marah Adams to-day, and I felt strangely drawn to +her. Her face would express all goodness if it were not so +unhappy. Unhappiness is a species of evil, since it is a +discourtesy to God to be unhappy.</p> +<p>I am going to do all I can for the girl to bring her into a +better frame of mind. No blame can be attached to her, and +yet now that I am face to face with the situation, and realise +how the world regards such a person, I myself find it a little +hard to think of braving public opinion and identifying myself +with her. But I am going to overcome such feelings, as they +are cowardly and unworthy of me, and purely the result of +education. I am amazed, too, to discover this weakness in +myself.</p> +<p>How sympathetic dear mamma is! I told her about Marah, +and she wept bitterly, and has carried her eyes full of tears +ever since. I must be careful and tell her nothing sad +while she is in such a weak state physically.</p> +<p>I told mamma what the rector said about lying. She +coincided with him that Mrs Adams would have been justified in +denying the truth if she had realised how her daughter was to be +affected by this knowledge. A woman’s past belongs +only to herself and her God, she says, unless she wishes to make +a confidant. But I cannot agree with her or the +rector. I would want the truth from my parents, however +much it hurt. Many sins which men regard as serious only +obstruct the bridge between our souls and truth. A lie +burns the bridge.</p> +<p>I hope I am not uncharitable, yet I cannot conceive of +committing an act through love of any man, which would lower me +in his esteem, once committed. Yet of course I have had +little experience in life, with men, or with temptation. +But it seems to me I could not continue to love a man who did not +seek to lead me higher. The moment he stood before me and +asked me to descend, I should realise he was to be +pitied—not adored.</p> +<p>I told mother this, and she said I was too young and +inexperienced to form decided opinions on such subjects, and she +warned me that I must not become uncharitable. She wept +bitterly as she thought of my becoming narrow or bigoted in my +ideas, dear, tender-hearted mamma.</p> +<p>Death should be called the Great Revealer instead of the Great +Destroyer.</p> +<p>Some people think the way into heaven is through embroidered +altar cloths.</p> +<p>The soul that has any conception of its own possibilities does +not fear solitude.</p> +<p>A girl told me to-day that a rude man annoyed her by staring +at her in a public conveyance. It never occurred to her +that it takes four eyes to make a stare annoying.</p> +<p>Astronomers know more about the character of the stars than +the average American mother knows about the temperament of her +daughters.</p> +<p>To some women the most terrible thought connected with death +is the dates in the obituary notice.</p> +<p>As a rule, when a woman opens the door of an artistic career +with one hand, she shuts the door on domestic happiness with the +other.</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> rector of St Blank’s +Church dined at the Cheney table or drove in the Cheney +establishment every week, beside which there were always one or +two confidential chats with the feminine Cheneys in the parsonage +on matters pertaining to the welfare of the church, and +occasionally to the welfare of humanity.</p> +<p>That Alice Cheney had conceived a sudden and consuming passion +for the handsome and brilliant rector of St Blank’s, both +her mother and the Baroness knew, and both were doing all in +their power to further the girl’s hopes.</p> +<p>While Alice resembled her mother in appearance and +disposition, propensities and impulses occasionally exhibited +themselves which spoke of paternal inheritance. She had her +father’s strongly emotional nature, with her mother’s +stubbornness; and Preston Cheney’s romantic tendencies were +repeated in his daughter, without his reasoning powers. +Added to her father’s lack of self-control in any strife +with his passions, Alice possessed her mother’s hysterical +nerves. In fact, the unfortunate child inherited the +weaknesses and faults of both parents, without any of their +redeeming virtues.</p> +<p>The passion which had sprung to life in her breast for the +young rector, was as strong and unreasoning as the infatuation +which her father had once experienced for Berene Dumont; but +instead of struggling against the feeling as her father had at +least attempted to do, she dwelt upon it with all the mulish +persistency which her mother exhibited in small matters, and +luxuriated in romantic dreams of the future.</p> +<p>Mabel was wholly unable to comprehend the depth or violence of +her daughter’s feelings, but she realised the fact that +Alice had set her mind on winning Arthur Stuart for a husband, +and she quite approved of the idea, and saw no reason why it +should not succeed. She herself had won Preston Cheney away +from all rivals for his favour, and Alice ought to be able to do +the same with Arthur, after all the money which had been expended +upon her wardrobe. Senator Cheney’s daughter and +Judge Lawrence’s granddaughter, surely was a prize for any +man to win as a wife.</p> +<p>The Baroness, however, reviewed the situation with more +concern of mind. She realised that Alice was destitute of +beauty and charm, and that Arthur Emerson Stuart (it would have +been considered a case of high treason to speak of the rector of +St Blank’s without using his three names) was independent +in the matter of fortune, and so dowered with nature’s best +gifts that he could have almost any woman for the asking whom he +should desire. But the Baroness believed much in +propinquity; and she brought the rector and Alice together as +often as possible, and coached the girl in coquettish arts when +alone with her, and credited her with witticisms and bon-mots +which she had never uttered, when talking of her to the young +rector.</p> +<p>“If only I could give Alice the benefit of my past +career,” the Baroness would say to herself at times. +“I know so well how to manage men; but what use is my +knowledge to me now that I am old? Alice is young, and even +without beauty she could do so much, if she only understood the +art of masculine seduction. But then it is a gift, not an +acquired art, and Alice was not born with the gift.”</p> +<p>While Mabel and Alice had been centring their thoughts and +attentions on the rector, the Baroness had not forgotten the +rector’s mother. She knew the very strong affection +which existed between the two, and she had discovered that the +leading desire of the young man’s heart was to make his +mother happy. With her wide knowledge of human nature, she +had not been long in discerning the fact that it was not because +of his own religious convictions that the rector had chosen his +calling, but to carry out the lifelong wishes of his beloved +mother.</p> +<p>Therefore she reasoned wisely that Arthur would be greatly +influenced by his mother in his choice of a wife; and the +Baroness brought all her vast battery of fascination to bear on +Mrs Stuart, and succeeded in making that lady her devoted +friend.</p> +<p>The widow of Judge Lawrence was still an imposing and +impressive figure wherever she went. Though no longer a +woman who appealed to the desires of men, she exhaled that +peculiar mental aroma which hangs ever about a woman who has +dealt deeply and widely in affairs of the heart. It is to +the spiritual senses what musk is to the physical; and while it +may often repulse, it sometimes attracts, and never fails to be +noticed. About the Baroness’s mouth were hard lines, +and the expression of her eyes was not kind or tender; yet she +was everywhere conceded to be a universally handsome and +attractive woman. Quiet and tasteful in her dressing, she +did not accentuate the ravages of time by any mistaken +frivolities of toilet, as so many faded coquettes have done, but +wisely suited her vestments to her appearance, as the withering +branch clothes itself in russet leaves, when the fresh sap ceases +to course through its veins. New York City is a vast +sepulchre of “past careers,” and the adventurous life +of the Baroness was quietly buried there with that of many +another woman. In the mad whirl of life there is small +danger that any of these skeletons will rise to view, unless the +woman permits herself to strive for eminence either socially or +in the world of art.</p> +<p>While the Cheneys were known to be wealthy, and the Senator +had achieved political position, there was nothing in their +situation to challenge the jealousy of their associates. +They moved in one of the many circles of cultured and agreeable +people, which, despite the mandate of a M‘Allister, formed +a varied and delightful society in the metropolis; they +entertained in an unostentatious manner, and there was nothing in +their personality to incite envy or jealousy. Therefore the +career of the Baroness had not been unearthed. That the +widow of Judge Lawrence, the stepmother of Mrs Cheney, was known +as “The Baroness” caused some questions, to be sure, +but the simple answer that she had been the widow of a French +baron in early life served to allay curiosity, while it rendered +the lady herself an object of greater interest to the majority of +people.</p> +<p>Mrs Stuart, the rector’s mother, was one of those who +were most impressed by this incident in the life of Mrs +Lawrence. “Family pride” was her greatest +weakness, and she dearly loved a title. She thought Mrs +Lawrence a typical “Baroness,” and though she knew +the title had only been obtained through marriage, it still +rendered its possessor peculiarly interesting in her eyes.</p> +<p>In her prime, the Baroness had been equally successful in +cajoling women and men. Though her day for ruling men was +now over, she still possessed the power to fascinate women when +she chose to exert herself. She did exert herself with Mrs +Stuart, and succeeded admirably in her design.</p> +<p>And one day Mrs Stuart confided her secret anxiety to the ear +of the Baroness; and that secret caused the cheek of the listener +to grow pale and the look of an animal at bay to come into her +eyes.</p> +<p>“There is just one thing that gives me a constant pain +at my heart,” Mrs Stuart had said. “You have +never been a mother, yet I think your sympathetic nature causes +you to understand much which you have not experienced, and +knowing as you do the great pride I feel in my son’s +career, and the ambition I have for him to rise to the very +highest pinnacle of success and usefulness, I am sure you will +comprehend my anxiety when I see him exhibiting an undue interest +in a girl who is in every way his inferior, and wholly unsuited +to fill the position his wife should occupy.”</p> +<p>The Baroness listened with a cold, sinking sensation at her +heart</p> +<p>“I am sure your son would never make a choice which was +not agreeable to you,” she ventured.</p> +<p>“He might not marry anyone I objected to,” Mrs +Stuart replied, “but I dread to think his heart may be +already gone from his keeping. Young men are so susceptible +to a pretty face and figure, and I confess that Joy Irving has +both. She is a good girl, too, and a fine musician; but she +has no family, and her alliance with my son would be a great +drawback to his career. Her father was a grocer, I believe, +or something of that sort; quite a common man, who married a +third-class actress, Joy’s mother. Mr Irving was in +very comfortable circumstances at one time, but a stroke of +paralysis rendered him helpless some four years ago. He +died last year and left his widow and child in straitened +circumstances. Mrs Irving is an invalid now, and Joy +supports her with her music. Mr Irving and Joy were members +of Arthur Emerson’s former church (Mrs Stuart always spoke +of her son in that manner), and that is how my son became +interested in the daughter—an interest I supposed to be +purely that of a rector in his parishioner, until of late, when I +began to fear it took root in deeper soil. But I am sure, +dear Baroness, you can understand my anxiety.”</p> +<p>And then the Baroness, with drawn lips and anguished eyes, +took both of Mrs Stuart’s hands in hers, and cried out:</p> +<p>“Your pain, dear madam, is second to mine. I have +no child, to be sure, but as few mothers love I love Alice +Cheney, my dear husband’s granddaughter. My very life +is bound up in her, and she—God help us, she loves your son +with her whole soul. If he marries another it will kill her +or drive her insane.”</p> +<p>The two women fell weeping into each other’s arms.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Preston Cheney</span> conceived such a +strong, earnest liking for the young clergyman whom he met under +his own roof during one of his visits home, that he fell into the +habit of attending church for the first time in his life.</p> +<p>Mabel and Alice were deeply gratified with this intimacy +between the two men, which brought the rector to the house far +oftener than they could have tastefully done without the +co-operation of the husband and father. Besides, it looked +well to have the head of the household represented in the +church. To the Baroness, also, there was added satisfaction +in attending divine service, now that Preston Cheney sat in the +pew. All hope of winning the love she had so longed to +possess, died many years before; and she had been cruel and +unkind in numerous ways to the object of her hopeless passion, +yet like the smell of dead rose leaves long shut in a drawer, +there clung about this man the faint, suggestive fragrance of a +perished dream.</p> +<p>She knew that he did not love his wife, and that he was +disappointed in his daughter; and she did not at least have to +suffer the pain of seeing him lavish the affection she had +missed, on others.</p> +<p>Mr Cheney had been called away from home on business the day +before the new organist took her place in St Blank’s +Church. Nearly a month had passed when he again occupied +his pew.</p> +<p>Before the organist had finished her introduction, he turned +to Alice, saying:</p> +<p>“There has been a change here in the choir, since I went +away, and for the better. That is a very unusual +musician. Do you know who it is?”</p> +<p>“Some lady, I believe; I do not remember her +name,” Alice answered indifferently. Like her mother, +Alice never enjoyed hearing anyone praised. It mattered +little who it was, or how entirely out of her own line the +achievements or accomplishments on which the praise was bestowed, +she still felt that petty resentment of small creatures who +believe that praise to others detracts from their own value.</p> +<p>A fortune had been expended on Alice’s musical +education, yet she could do no more than rattle through some +mediocre composition, with neither taste nor skill.</p> +<p>The money which has been wasted in trying to teach music to +unmusical people would pay our national debt twice over, and +leave a competency for every orphan in the land.</p> +<p>When the organist had finished her second selection, Mr Cheney +addressed the same question to his wife which he had addressed to +Alice.</p> +<p>“Who is the new organist?” he queried. Mabel +only shook her head and placed her finger on her lip as a signal +for silence during service.</p> +<p>The third time it was the Baroness, sitting just beyond Mabel, +to whom Mr Cheney spoke. “That’s a very +remarkable musician, very remarkable,” he said. +“Do you know anything about her?”</p> +<p>“Yes, wait until we get home, and I will tell you all +about her,” the Baroness replied.</p> +<p>When the service was over, Mr Cheney did not pass out at once, +as was his custom. Instead he walked toward the pulpit, +after requesting his family to wait a moment.</p> +<p>The rector saw him and came down into the aisle to speak to +him.</p> +<p>“I want to congratulate you on the new organist,” +Mr Cheney said, “and I want to meet her. Alice tells +me it is a lady. She must have devoted a lifetime to hard +study to become such a marvellous mistress of that difficult +instrument.”</p> +<p>Arthur Stuart smiled. “Wait a moment,” he +said, “and I will send for her. I would like you to +meet her, and like her to meet your wife and family. She +has few, if any, acquaintances in my congregation.”</p> +<p>Mr Cheney went down the aisle, and joined the three ladies who +were waiting for him in the pew. All were smiling, for all +three believed that he had been asking the rector to accompany +them home to dinner. His first word dispelled the +illusion.</p> +<p>“Wait here a moment,” he said. “Mr +Stuart is going to bring the organist to meet us. I want to +know the woman who can move me so deeply by her music.”</p> +<p>Over the faces of his three listeners there fell a +cloud. Mabel looked annoyed, Alice sulky, and a flush of +the old jealous fury darkened the brow of the Baroness. But +all were smiling deceitfully when Joy Irving approached.</p> +<p>Her radiant young beauty, and the expressions of admiration +with which Preston Cheney greeted her as a woman and an artist, +filled life with gall and wormwood for the three feminine +listeners.</p> +<p>“What! this beautiful young miss, scarcely out of short +frocks, is not the musician who gave us that wonderful harmony of +sounds. My child, how did you learn to play like that in +the brief life you have passed on earth? Surely you must +have been taught by the angels before you came.”</p> +<p>A deep blush of pleasure at the words which, though so +extravagant, Joy felt to be sincere, increased her beauty as she +looked up into Preston Cheney’s admiring eyes.</p> +<p>And as he held her hands in both of his and gazed down upon +her it seemed to the Baroness she could strike them dead at her +feet and rejoice in the act.</p> +<p>Beside this radiant vision of loveliness and genius, Alice +looked plainer and more meagre than ever before. She was +like a wayside weed beside an American Beauty rose.</p> +<p>“I hope you and Alice will become good friends,” +Mr Cheney said warmly. “We should like to see you at +the house any time you can make it convenient to come, would we +not Mabel?”</p> +<p>Mrs Cheney gave a formal assent to her husband’s words +as they turned away, leaving Joy with the rector. And a +scene in one of life’s strangest dramas had been enacted, +unknown to them all.</p> +<p>“I would like you to be very friendly with that girl, +Alice,” Mr Cheney repeated as they seated themselves in the +carriage. “She has a rare face, a rare face, and she +is highly gifted. She reminds me of someone I have known, +yet I can’t think who it is. What do you know about +her, Baroness?”</p> +<p>The Baroness gave an expressive shrug. “Since you +admire her so much,” she said, “I rather hesitate +telling you. But the girl is of common origin—a +grocer’s daughter, and her mother quite an inferior +person. I hardly think it a suitable companionship for +Alice.”</p> +<p>“I am sure I don’t care to know her,” chimed +in Alice. “I thought her quite bold and forward in +her manner.”</p> +<p>“Decidedly so! She seemed to hang on to your +father’s hand as if she would never let go,” added +Mabel, in her most acid tone. “I must say, I should +have been horrified to see you act in such a familiar manner +toward any stranger.” A quick colour shot into +Preston Cheney’s cheek and a spark into his eye.</p> +<p>“The girl was perfectly modest in her deportment to +me,” he said. “She is a lady through and +through, however humble her birth may be. But I ought to +have known better than to ask my wife and daughter to like anyone +whom I chanced to admire. I learned long ago how futile +such an idea was.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well, I don’t see why you need get so angry +over a perfect stranger whom you never laid eyes on until +to-day,” pouted Alice. “I am sure she’s +nothing to any of us that we need quarrel over her.”</p> +<p>“A man never gets so old that he is not likely to make a +fool of himself over a pretty face,” supplemented Mabel, +“and there is no fool like an old fool.”</p> +<p>The uncomfortable drive home came to an end at this juncture, +and Preston Cheney retired to his own room, with the disagreeable +words of his wife and daughter ringing in his ears, and the +beautiful face of the young organist floating before his +eyes.</p> +<p>“I wish she were my daughter,” he said to himself; +“what a comfort and delight a girl like that would be to +me!”</p> +<p>And while these thoughts filled the man’s heart the +Baroness paced her room with all the jealous passions of her +still ungoverned nature roused into new life and violence at the +remembrance of Joy Irving’s fresh young beauty and Preston +Cheney’s admiring looks and words.</p> +<p>“I could throttle her,” she cried, “I could +throttle her. Oh, why is she sent across my life at every +turn? Why should the only two men in the world who interest +me to-day, be so infatuated over that girl? But if I cannot +remove so humble an obstacle as she from my pathway, I shall feel +that my day of power is indeed over, and that I do not believe to +be true.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Two</span> weeks later the organ loft of +St Blank’s Church was occupied by a stranger. For a +few hours the Baroness felt a wild hope in her heart that Miss +Irving had been sent away.</p> +<p>But inquiry elicited the information that the young musician +had merely employed a substitute because her mother was lying +seriously ill at home.</p> +<p>It was then that the Baroness put into execution a desire she +had to make the personal acquaintance of Joy Irving.</p> +<p>The desire had sprung into life with the knowledge of the +rector’s interest in the girl. No one knew better +than the Baroness how to sow the seeds of doubt, distrust and +discord between two people whom she wished to alienate. +Many a sweetheart, many a wife, had she separated from lover and +husband, scarcely leaving a sign by which the trouble could be +traced to her, so adroit and subtle were her methods.</p> +<p>She felt that she could insert an invisible wedge between +these two hearts, which would eventually separate them, if only +she might make the acquaintance of Miss Irving. And now +chance had opened the way for her.</p> +<p>She made her resolve known to the rector.</p> +<p>“I am deeply interested in the young organist whom I had +the pleasure of meeting some weeks ago,” she said, and she +noted with a sinking heart the light which flashed into the +man’s face at the mere mention of the girl. “I +understand her mother is seriously ill, and I think I will go +around and call. Perhaps I can be of use. I +understand Mrs Irving is not a churchwoman, and she may be in +real need, as the family is in straitened circumstances. +May I mention your name when I call, in order that Miss Irving +may not think I intrude?”</p> +<p>“Why, certainly,” the rector replied with +warmth. “Indeed, I will give you a card of +introduction. That will open the way for you, and at the +same time I know you will use your delicate tact to avoid +wounding Miss Irving’s pride in any way. She is very +sensitive about their straitened circumstances; you may have +heard that they were quite well-to-do until the stroke of +paralysis rendered her father helpless. All their means +were exhausted in efforts to restore his health, and in the +employment of nurses and physicians. I think they have +found life a difficult problem since his death, as Mrs Irving has +been under medical care constantly, and the whole burden falls on +Miss Joy’s young shoulders, and she is but +twenty-one.”</p> +<p>“Just the age of Alice,” mused the Baroness. +“How differently people’s lives are ordered in this +world! But then we must have the hewers of wood and the +drawers of water, and we must have the delicate human +flowers. Our Alice is one of the latter, a frail blossom to +look upon, but she is one of the kind which will bloom out in +great splendour under the sunshine of love and happiness. +Very few people realise what wonderful reserve force that +delicate child possesses. And such a tender heart! +She was determined to come with me when she heard of Miss +Irving’s trouble, but I thought it unwise to take her until +I had seen the place. She is so sensitive to her +surroundings, and it might be too painful for her. I am for +ever holding her back from overtaxing herself for others. +No one dreams of the amount of good that girl does in a secret, +quiet way; and at the same time she assumes an indifferent air +and talks as if she were quite heartless, just to hinder people +from suspecting her charitable work. She is such a strange, +complicated character.”</p> +<p>Armed with her card of introduction, the Baroness set forth on +her “errand of mercy.” She had not mentioned +Miss Irving’s name to Mabel or Alice. The secret of +the rector’s interest in the girl was locked in her own +breast. She knew that Mabel was wholly incapable of coping +with such a situation, and she dreaded the effect of the news on +Alice, who was absorbed in her love dream. The girl had +never been denied a wish in her life, and no thought came to her +that she could be thwarted in this, her most cherished hope of +all.</p> +<p>The Baroness was determined to use every gun in her battery of +defence before she allowed Mabel or Alice to know that defence +was needed.</p> +<p>The rector’s card admitted her to the parlour of a small +flat. The portières of an adjoining room were thrown +open presently, and a vision of radiant beauty entered the +room.</p> +<p>The Baroness could not explain it, but as the girl emerged +from the curtains, a strange, confused memory of something and +somebody she had known in the past came over her. But when +the girl spoke, a more inexplicable sensation took possession of +the listener, for her voice was the feminine of Preston +Cheney’s masculine tones, and then as she looked at the +girl again the haunting memories of the first glance were +explained, for she was very like Preston Cheney as the Baroness +remembered him when he came to the Palace to engage rooms more +than a score of years ago. “What a strange thing +these resemblances are!” she thought. “This +girl is more like Senator Cheney, far more like him, than Alice +is. Ah, if Alice only had her face and form!”</p> +<p>Miss Irving gave a slight start, and took a step back as her +eyes fell upon the Baroness. The rector’s card had +read, “Introducing Mrs Sylvester Lawrence.” She +had known this lad by sight ever since her first Sunday as +organist at St Blank’s, and for some unaccountable reason +she had conceived a most intense dislike for her. Joy was +drawn toward humanity in general, as naturally as the sunlight +falls on the earth’s foliage. Her heart radiated love +and sympathy toward the whole world. But when she did feel +a sentiment of distrust or repulsion she had learned to respect +it.</p> +<p>Our guardian angels sometimes send these feelings as danger +signals to our souls.</p> +<p>It therefore required a strong effort of her will to go +forward and extend a hand in greeting to the lady whom her rector +and friend had introduced.</p> +<p>“I must beg pardon for this intrusion,” the +Baroness said with her sweetest smile; “but our rector +urged me to come and so I felt emboldened to carry out the wish I +have long entertained to make your acquaintance. Your +wonderful music inspires all who hear you to know you personally; +the service lacked half its charm on Sunday because you were +absent. When I learnt that your absence was occasioned by +your mother’s illness, I asked the rector if he thought a +call from me would be an intrusion, and he assured me to the +contrary. I used to be considered an excellent nurse; I am +very strong, and full of vitality, and if you would permit me to +sit by your mother some Sunday when you are needed at church, I +should be most happy to do so. I should like to make the +acquaintance of your mother, and compliment her on the happiness +of possessing such a gifted and dutiful daughter.”</p> +<p>Like all who sat for any time under the spell of the second +Mrs Lawrence, Joy felt the charm of her voice, words and manner, +and it began to seem as if she had been very unreasonable in +entertaining unfounded prejudices.</p> +<p>That the rector had introduced her was alone proof of her +worthiness; and the gracious offer of the distinguished-looking +lady to watch by the bedside of a stranger was certainly evidence +of her good heart. The frost disappeared from her smile, +and she warmed toward the Baroness. The call lengthened +into a visit, and as the Baroness finally rose to go, Joy +said:</p> +<p>“I will take you in and introduce you to mamma +now. I think it will do her good to meet you,” and +the Baroness followed the graceful girl through a narrow hall, +and into a room which had evidently been intended for a +dining-room, but which, owing to its size and its windows opening +to the south, had been utilised as a sick chamber.</p> +<p>The invalid lay with her face turned away from the door. +But by the movement of the delicate hand on the counterpane, Joy +knew that her mother was awake.</p> +<p>“Mamma, I have brought a lady, a friend of Dr +Stuart’s, to see you,” Joy said gently. The +invalid turned her head upon the pillow, and the Baroness looked +upon the face of—Berene Dumont.</p> +<p>“Berene!”</p> +<p>“Madam!”</p> +<p>The two spoke simultaneously, and the invalid had started +upright in bed.</p> +<p>“Mamma, what is the matter? Oh, please lie down, +or you will bring on another hæmorrhage,” cried the +startled girl; but her mother lifted her hand.</p> +<p>“Joy,” she said in a firm, clear voice, +“this lady is an old acquaintance of mine. Please go +out, dear, and shut the door. I wish to see her +alone.”</p> +<p>Joy passed out with drooping head and a sinking heart. +As the door closed behind her the Baroness spoke.</p> +<p>“So that is Preston Cheney’s daughter,” she +said. “I always had my suspicions of the cause which +led you to leave my house so suddenly. Does the girl know +who her father is? And does Senator Cheney know of her +existence, may I ask?”</p> +<p>A crimson flush suffused the invalid’s face. Then +a flame of fire shot into the dark eyes, and a small red spot +only glowed on either pale cheek.</p> +<p>“I do not know by what right you ask these questions, +Baroness Brown,” she answered slowly; and her listener +cringed under the old appellation which recalled the miserable +days when she had kept a lodging-house—days she had almost +forgotten during the last decade of life.</p> +<p>“But I can assure you, madam,” continued the +speaker, “that my daughter knows no father save the good +man, my husband, who is dead. I have never by word or line +made my existence known to anyone I ever knew since I left +Beryngford. I do not know why you should come here to +insult me, madam; I have never harmed you or yours, and you have +no proof of the accusation you just made, save your own evil +suspicions.”</p> +<p>The Baroness gave an unpleasant laugh.</p> +<p>“It is an easy matter for me to find proof of my +suspicions if I choose to take the trouble,” she +said. “There are detectives enough to hunt up your +trail, and I have money enough to pay them for their +trouble. But Joy is the living evidence of the +assertion. She is the image of Preston Cheney, as he was +twenty-three years ago. I am ready, however, to let the +matter drop on one condition; and that condition is, that you +extract a promise from your daughter that she will not encourage +the attentions of Arthur Emerson Stuart, the rector of St +Blank’s; that she will never under any circumstances be his +wife.”</p> +<p>The red spots faded to a sickly yellow in the invalid’s +cheeks. “Why should you ask this of me?” she +cried. “Why should you wish to destroy the happiness +of my child’s life? She loves Arthur Stuart, and I +know that he loves her! It is the one thought which resigns +me to death; the thought that I may leave her the beloved wife of +this good man.”</p> +<p>The Baroness leaned lower over the pillow of the invalid as +she answered: “I will tell you why I ask this sacrifice of +you.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps you do not know that I married Judge Lawrence +after the death of his first wife. Perhaps you do not know +that Preston Cheney’s legitimate daughter is as precious to +me as his illegitimate child is to you. Alice is only six +months younger than Joy; she is frail, delicate, sensitive. +A severe disappointment would kill her. She, too, loves +Arthur Stuart. If your daughter will let him alone, he will +marry Alice. Surely the illegitimate child should give way +to the legitimate.</p> +<p>“If you are selfish in this matter, I shall be obliged +to tell your daughter the true story of her life, and let her be +the judge of what is right and what is wrong. I fancy she +might have a finer perception of duty than you have—she is +so much like her father.”</p> +<p>The tortured invalid fell back panting on her pillow. +She put out her hands with a distracted, imploring gesture.</p> +<p>“Leave me to think,” she gasped. “I +never knew that Preston Cheney had a daughter; I did not know he +lived here. My life has been so quiet, so secluded these +many years. Leave me to think. I will give you my +answer in a few days; I will write you after I reflect and +pray.”</p> +<p>The Baroness passed out, and Joy, hastening into the room, +found her mother in a wild paroxysm of tears. Late that +night Mrs Irving called for writing materials; and for many hours +she sat propped up in bed writing rapidly.</p> +<p>When she had completed her task she called Joy to her +side.</p> +<p>“Darling,” she said, placing a sealed manuscript +in her hands, “I want you to keep this seal unbroken so +long as you are happy. I know in spite of your deep sorrow +at my death, which must come ere long, you will find much +happiness in life. You came smiling into existence, and no +common sorrow can deprive you of the joy which is your +birthright. But there are numerous people in the world who +may strive to wound you after I am gone. If slanderous +tales or cruel reports reach your ears, and render you unhappy, +break this seal, and read the story I have written here. +There are some things which will deeply pain you, I know. +Do not force yourself to read them until a necessity +arises. I leave you this manuscript as I might leave you a +weapon for self-defence. Use it only when you are in need +of that defence.”</p> +<p>The next morning Mrs Irving was weakened by another and most +serious hæmorrhage of the lungs. Her physician was +grave, and urged the daughter to be prepared for the worst.</p> +<p>“I fear your mother’s life is a matter of days +only,” he said.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Baroness went directly from the +home which she had entered only to blight, and sent her card +marked “urgent” to Mrs Stuart.</p> +<p>“I have come to tell you an unpleasant story,” she +said—“a painful and revolting story, the early +chapters of which were written years ago, but the sequel has only +just been made known to me. It concerns you and yours +vitally; it also concerns me and mine. I am sure, when you +have heard the story to the end, you will say that truth is +stranger than fiction, indeed: and you will more than ever +realise the necessity of preventing your son from marrying Joy +Irving—a child who was born before her mother ever met Mr +Irving; and whose mother, I daresay, was no more the actual wife +of Mr Irving in the name of law and decency than she had been the +wife of his many predecessors.”</p> +<p>Startled and horrified at this beginning of the story, Mrs +Stuart was in a state of excited indignation at the end. +The Baroness had magnified facts and distorted truths until she +represented Berene Dumont as a monster of depravity; a vicious +being who had been for a short time the recipient of the +Baroness’s mistaken charity, and who had repaid kindness by +base ingratitude, and immorality. The man implicated in the +scandal which she claimed was the cause of Berene’s flight +was not named in this recital.</p> +<p>Indeed the Baroness claimed that he was more sinned against +than sinning, and that it was a case of mesmeric influence, or +evil eye, on the part of the depraved woman.</p> +<p>Mrs Lawrence took pains to avoid any reference to Beryngford +also; speaking of these occurrences having taken place while she +spent a summer in a distant interior town, where, “after +the death of the Baron, she had rented a villa, feeling that she +wanted to retire from the world.”</p> +<p>“My heart is always running away with my head,” +she remarked, “and I thought this poor creature, who was +shunned and neglected by all, worth saving. I tried to +befriend her, and hoped to waken the better nature which every +woman possesses, I think, but she was too far gone in +iniquity.</p> +<p>“You cannot imagine, my dear Mrs Stuart, what a shock it +was to me on entering that sickroom to-day, my heart full of +kindly sympathy, to encounter in the invalid the ungrateful +recipient of my past favours; and to realise that her daughter +was no other than the shameful offspring of her immoral +past. In spite of the girl’s beauty, there is an +expression about her face which I never liked; and I fully +understand now why I did not like it. Of course, Mrs +Stuart, this story is told to you in strict confidence. I +would not for the world have dear Mrs Cheney know of it, nor +would I pollute sweet Alice with such a tale. Indeed, Alice +would not understand it if she were told, for she is as ignorant +and innocent as a child in arms of such matters. We have +kept her absolutely unspotted from the world. But I knew it +was my duty to tell you the whole shameful story. If worst +comes to worst, you will be obliged to tell your son perhaps, and +if he doubts the story send him to me for its +verification.”</p> +<p>Worst came to the worst before twenty-four hours had +passed. The rector received word that Mrs Irving was +rapidly failing, and went to act the part of spiritual counsellor +to the invalid, and sympathetic friend to the suffering girl.</p> +<p>When he returned his mother watched his face with eager, +anxious eyes. He looked haggard and ill, as if he had +passed through a severe ordeal. He could talk of nothing +but the beautiful and brave girl, who was about to lose her one +worshipped companion, and who ere many hours passed would stand +utterly alone in the world.</p> +<p>“I never saw you so affected before by the troubles and +sorrows of your parishioners,” Mrs Stuart said. +“I wonder, Arthur, why you take the sorrows of this family +so keenly to heart.”</p> +<p>The young rector looked his mother full in the face with calm, +sad eyes. Then he said slowly:</p> +<p>“I suppose, mother, it is because I love Joy Irving with +all my heart. You must have suspected this for some +time. I know that you have, and that the thought has pained +you. You have had other and more ambitious aims for +me. Earnest Christian and good woman that you are, you have +a worldly and conventional vein in your nature, which makes you +reverence position, wealth and family to a marked degree. +You would, I know, like to see me unite myself with some royal +family, were that possible; failing in that, you would choose the +daughter of some great and aristocratic house to be my +bride. Ah, well, dear mother, you will, I know, concede +that marriage without love is unholy. I am not able to +force myself to love some great lady, even supposing I could win +her if I did love her.”</p> +<p>“But you might keep yourself from forming a foolish and +unworthy attachment,” Mrs Stuart interrupted. +“With your will-power, your brain, your reasoning +faculties, I see no necessity for your allowing a pretty face to +run away with your heart. Nothing could be more unsuitable, +more shocking, more dreadful, than to have you make that girl +your wife, Arthur.”</p> +<p>Mrs Stuart’s voice rose as she spoke, from a quiet +reasoning tone to a high, excited wail. She had not meant +to say so much. She had intended merely to appeal to her +son’s affection for her, without making any unpleasant +disclosures regarding Joy’s mother; she thought merely to +win a promise from him that he would not compromise himself at +present with the girl, through an excess of sympathy. But +already she had said enough to arouse the young man into a +defender of the girl he loved.</p> +<p>“I think your language quite too strong, mother,” +he said, with a reproving tone in his voice. “Miss +Irving is good, gifted, amiable, beautiful, beside being young +and full of health. I am sure there could be nothing +shocking or dreadful in any man’s uniting his destiny with +such a being, in case he was fortunate enough to win her. +The fact that she is poor, and not of illustrious lineage, is but +a very worldly consideration. Mr Irving was a most +intelligent and excellent man, even if he was a grocer. The +American idea of aristocracy is grotesquely absurd at the +best. A man may spend his time and strength in buying and +selling things wherewith to clothe the body, and, if he succeeds, +his children are admitted to the intimacy of princes; but no +success can open that door to the children of a man who trades in +food, wherewith to sustain the body. We can none of us +afford to put on airs here in America, with butchers and Dutch +peasant traders only three or four generations back of our +‘best families.’ As for me, mother, remember my +loved father was a broker. That would damn him in the eyes +of some people, you know, cultured gentleman as he +was.”</p> +<p>Mrs Stuart sat very still, breathing hard and trying to gain +control of herself for some moments after her son ceased +speaking. He, too, had said more than he intended, and he +was sorry that he had hurt his mother’s feelings as he saw +her evident agitation. But as he rose to go forward and beg +her pardon, she spoke.</p> +<p>“The person of whom we were speaking has nothing +whatever to do with Mr Irving,” she said. “Joy +Irving was born before her mother was married. Mrs Irving +has a most infamous past, and I would rather see you dead than +the husband of her child. You certainly would not want your +children to inherit the propensities of such a grandmother? +And remember the curse descends to the third and fourth +generations. If you doubt my words, go to the +Baroness. She knows the whole story, but has revealed it to +no one but me.”</p> +<p>Mrs Stuart left the room, closing the door behind her as she +went. She did not want to be obliged to go over the details +of the story which she had heard; she had made her statement, one +which she knew must startle and horrify her son, with his high +ideals of womanly purity, and she left him to review the +situation in silence. It was several hours before the +rector left his room.</p> +<p>When he did, he went, not to the Baroness, but directly to Mrs +Irving. They were alone for more than an hour. When +he emerged from the room, his face was as white as death, and he +did not look at Joy as she accompanied him to the door.</p> +<p>Two days later Mrs Irving died.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> congregation of St +Blank’s Church was rendered sad and solicitous by learning +that its rector was on the eve of nervous prostration, and that +his physician had ordered a change of air. He went away in +company with his mother for a vacation of three months. The +day after his departure Joy Irving received a letter from him +which read as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Miss +Irving</span>,—You may not in your deep grief have given me +a thought. If such a thought has been granted one so +unworthy, it must have taken the form of surprise that your +rector and friend has made no call of condolence since death +entered your household. I want to write one little word to +you, asking you to be lenient in your judgment of me. I am +ill in body and mind. I feel that I am on the eve of some +distressing malady. I am not able to reason clearly, or to +judge what is right and what is wrong. I am as one tossed +between the laws of God and the laws made by men, and bruised in +heart and in soul. I dare not see you or speak to you while +I am in this state of mind. I fear for what I may say or +do. I have not slept since I last saw you. I must go +away and gain strength and equilibrium. When I return I +shall hope to be master of myself. Until then, adieu.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span class="smcap">Arthur +Emerson Stuart</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>These wild and incoherent phrases stirred the young +girl’s heart with intense pain and anxiety. She had +known for almost a year that she loved the young rector; she had +believed that he cared for her, and without allowing herself to +form any definite thoughts of the future, she had lived in a +blissful consciousness of loving and being loved, which is to the +fulfilment of a love dream, like inhaling the perfume of a rose, +compared to the gathered flower and its attending thorns.</p> +<p>The young clergyman’s absence at the time of her +greatest need had caused her both wonder and pain. His +letter but increased both sentiments without explaining the +cause.</p> +<p>It increased, too, her love for him, for whenever over-anxiety +is aroused for one dear to us, our love is augmented.</p> +<p>She felt that the young man was in some great trouble, unknown +to her, and she longed to be able to comfort him. Into the +maiden’s tender and ardent affection stole the wifely wish +to console and the motherly impulse to protect her dear one from +pain, which are strong elements in every real woman’s +love.</p> +<p>Mrs Irving had died without writing one word to the Baroness; +and that personage was in a state of constant excitement until +she heard of the rector’s plans for rest and travel. +Mrs Stuart informed her of the conversation which had taken place +between herself and her son; and of his evident distress of mind, +which had reacted on his body and made it necessary for him to +give up mental work for a season.</p> +<p>“I feel that I owe you a debt of gratitude, dear +Baroness,” Mrs Stuart had said. “Sad as this +condition of things is, imagine how much worse it would be, had +my son, through an excess of sympathy for that girl at this time, +compromised himself with her before we learned the terrible truth +regarding her birth. I feel sure my son will regain his +health after a few months’ absence, and that he will not +jeopardise my happiness and his future by any further thoughts of +this unfortunate girl, who in the meantime may not be here when +we return.”</p> +<p>The Baroness made a mental resolve that the girl should not be +there.</p> +<p>While the rector’s illness and proposed absence was +sufficient evidence that he had resolved upon sacrificing his +love for Joy on the altar of duty to his mother and his calling, +yet the Baroness felt that danger lurked in the air while Miss +Irving occupied her present position. No sooner had Mrs +Stuart and her son left the city, than the Baroness sent an +anonymous letter to the young organist. It read:</p> +<blockquote><p>“I do not know whether your mother imparted +the secret of her past life to you before she died, but as that +secret is known to several people, it seems cruelly unjust that +you are kept in ignorance of it. You are not Mr +Irving’s child. You were born before your mother +married. While it is not your fault, only your misfortune, +it would be wise for you to go where the facts are not so well +known as in the congregation of St Blank’s. There are +people in that congregation who consider you guilty of a wilful +deception in wearing the name you do, and of an affront to good +taste in accepting the position you occupy. Many people +talk of leaving the church on your account. Your gifts as a +musician would win you a position elsewhere, and as I learn that +your mother’s life was insured for a considerable sum, I am +sure you are able to seek new fields where you can bide your +disgrace.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“A <span +class="smcap">Well-Wisher</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Quivering with pain and terror, the young girl cast the letter +into the fire, thinking that it was the work of one of those +half-crazed beings whose mania takes the form of anonymous +letters to unoffending people. Only recently such a person +had been brought into the courts for this offence. It +occurred to her also that it might be the work of someone who +wished to obtain her position as organist of St +Blank’s. Musicians, she knew, were said to be the +most jealous of all people, and while she had never suffered from +them before, it might be that her time had now come to experience +the misfortunes of her profession.</p> +<p>Tender-hearted and kindly in feeling to all humanity, she felt +a sickening sense of sorrow and fear at the thought that there +existed such a secret enemy for her anywhere in the world.</p> +<p>She went out upon the street, and for the first time in her +life she experienced a sense of suspicion and distrust toward the +people she met; for the first time in her life, she realised that +the world was not all kind and ready to give her back the honest +friendship and the sweet good-will which filled her heart for all +her kind. Strive as she would, she could not cast off the +depression caused by this vile letter. It was her first +experience of this cowardly and despicable phase of human malice, +and she felt wounded in soul as by a poisoned arrow shot in the +dark. And then, suddenly, there came to her the memory of +her mother’s words—“If unhappiness ever comes +to you, read this letter.”</p> +<p>Surely this was the time she needed to read that letter. +That it contained some secret of her mother’s life she felt +sure, and she was equally sure that it contained nothing that +would cause her to blush for that beloved mother.</p> +<p>“Whatever the manuscript may have to reveal to +me,” she said, “it is time that I should +know.” She took the package from the hiding place, +and broke the seal. Slowly she read it to the end, as if +anxious to make no error in understanding every phase of the long +story it related. Beginning with the marriage of her mother +to the French professor, Berene gave a detailed account of her +own sad and troubled life, and the shadow which the +father’s appetite for drugs cast over her whole +youth. “They say,” she wrote, “that there +is no personal devil in existence. I think this is true; he +has taken the form of drugs and spirituous liquors, and so his +work of devastation goes on.” Then followed the story +of the sacrilegious marriage to save her father from suicide, of +her early widowhood; and the proffer of the Baroness to give her +a home. Of her life of servitude there, her yearning for an +education, and her meeting with “Apollo,” as she +designated Preston Cheney. “For truly he was like the +glory of the rising day to me, the first to give me hope, courage +and unselfish aid. I loved him, I worshipped him. He +loved me, but he strove to crush and kill this love because he +had worked out an ambitious career for himself. To +extricate himself from many difficulties and embarrassments, and +to further his ambitious dreams, he betrothed himself to the +daughter of a rich and powerful man. He made no profession +of love, and she asked none. She was incapable of giving or +inspiring that holy passion. She only asked to be +married.</p> +<p>“I only asked to be loved. Knowing nothing of the +terrible conflict in his breast, knowing nothing of his new-made +ties, I was wounded to the soul by his speaking unkindly to +me—words he forced himself to speak to hide his real +feelings. And then it was that a strange fate caused him to +find me fainting, suffering, and praying for death. The +love in both hearts could no longer be restrained. +Augmented by its long control, sharpened by the agony we had both +suffered, overwhelmed by the surprise of the meeting, we lost +reason and prudence. Everything was forgotten save our +love. When it was too late I foresaw the anguish and sorrow +I must bring into this man’s life. I fear it was this +thought rather than repentance for sin which troubled me. +Well may you ask why I did not think of all this before instead +of after the error was committed. Why did not Eve realise +the consequences of the fall until she had eaten of the +apple? Only afterward did I learn of the unholy ties which +my lover had formed that very day—ties which he swore to me +should be broken ere another day passed, to render him free to +make me his wife in the eyes of men, as I already was in the +sight of God.</p> +<p>“Yet a strange and sudden resolve came to me as I +listened to him. Far beyond the thought of my own ruin, +rose the consciousness of the ruin I should bring upon his life +by allowing him to carry out his design. To be his wife, +his helpmate, chosen from the whole world as one he deemed most +worthy and most able to cheer and aid him in life’s +battle—that seemed heaven to me; but to know that by one +rash, impetuous act of folly, I had placed him in a position +where he felt that honour compelled him to marry me—why, +this thought was more bitter than death. I knew that he +loved me; yet I knew, too, that by a union with me under the +circumstances he would antagonise those who were now his best and +most influential friends, and that his entire career would be +ruined. I resolved to go away; to disappear from his life +and leave no trace. If his love was as sincere as mine, he +would find me; and time would show him some wiser way for +breaking his new-made fetters than the rash and sudden method he +now contemplated. He had forgotten to protect me with his +love, but I could not forget to protect him. In every true +woman’s love there is the maternal element which renders +sacrifice natural.</p> +<p>“Fate hastened and furthered my plans for +departure. Made aware that the Baroness was suspicious of +my fault, and learning that my lover was suddenly called to the +bedside of his fiancée, I made my escape from the town and +left no trace behind. I went to that vast haystack of lost +needles—New York, and effaced Berene Dumont in Mrs +Lamont. The money left from my father’s belongings I +resolved to use in cultivating my voice. I advertised for +embroidery and fine sewing also, and as I was an expert with the +needle, I was able to support myself and lay aside a little sum +each week. I trimmed hats at a small price, and added to my +income in various manners, owing to my French taste and my deft +fingers.</p> +<p>“I was desolate, sad, lonely, but not despairing. +What woman can despair when she knows herself loved? To me +that consciousness was a far greater source of happiness than +would have been the knowledge that I was an empress, or the wife +of a millionaire, envied by the whole world. I believed my +lover would find me in time, that we should be reunited. I +believed this until I saw the announcement of his marriage in the +press, and read that he and his bride had sailed for an extended +foreign tour; but with this stunning news, there came to me the +strange, sweet, startling consciousness that you, my darling +child, were coming to console me.</p> +<p>“I know that under the circumstances I ought to have +been borne down to the earth with a guilty shame; I ought to have +considered you as a punishment for my sin—and walked in the +valley of humiliation and despair.</p> +<p>“But I did not. I lived in a state of mental +exaltation; every thought was a prayer, every emotion was linked +with religious fervour. I was no longer alone or +friendless, for I had you. I sang as I had never sung, and +one theatrical manager, who happened to call upon my teacher +during my lesson hour, offered me a position at a good salary at +once if I would accept.</p> +<p>“I could not accept, of course, knowing what the coming +months were to bring to me, but I took his card and promised to +write him when I was ready to take a position. You came +into life in the depressing atmosphere of a city hospital, my +dear child, yet even there I was not depressed, and your face +wore a smile of joy the first time I gazed upon it. So I +named you Joy—and well have you worn the name. My +first sorrow was in being obliged to leave you; for I had to +leave you with those human angels, the sweet sisters of charity, +while I went forth to make a home for you. My voice, as is +sometimes the case, was richer, stronger and of greater compass +after I had passed through maternity. I accepted a position +with a travelling theatrical company, where I was to sing a solo +in one act. My success was not phenomenal, but it +<i>was</i> success nevertheless. I followed this life for +three years, seeing you only at intervals. Then the +consciousness came to me that without long and profound study I +could never achieve more than a third-rate success in my +profession.</p> +<p>“I had dreamed of becoming a great singer; but I learned +that a voice alone does not make a great singer. I needed +years of study, and this would necessitate the expenditure of +large sums of money. I had grown heart-sick and disgusted +with the annoyances and vulgarity I was subjected to in my +position. When you were four years old a good man offered +me a good home as his wife. It was the first honest love I +had encountered, while scores of men had made a pretence of +loving me during these years.</p> +<p>“I was hungering for a home where I could claim you and +have the joy of your daily companionship instead of brief +glimpses of you at the intervals of months. My voice, never +properly trained, was beginning to break. I resolved to put +Mr Irving to a test; I would tell him the true story of your +birth, and if he still wished me to be his wife, I would marry +him.</p> +<p>“I carried out my resolve, and we were married the day +after he had heard my story. I lived a peaceful and even +happy life with Mr Irving. He was devoted to you, and never +by look, word or act, seemed to remember my past. I, too, +at times almost forgot it, so strange a thing is the human heart +under the influence of time. Imagine, then, the shock of +remembrance and the tidal wave of memories which swept over me +when in the lady you brought to call upon me I +recognised—the Baroness.</p> +<p>“It is because she threatened to tell you that you were +not born in wedlock that I leave this manuscript for you. +It is but a few weeks since you told me the story of Marah Adams, +and assured me that you thought her mother did right in +confessing the truth to her daughter. Little did you dream +with what painful interest I listened to your views on that +subject. Little did I dream that I should so soon be called +upon to act upon them.</p> +<p>“But the time is now come, and I want no strange hand to +deal you a blow in the dark; if any part of the story comes to +you, I want you to know the whole truth. You will wonder +why I have not told you the name of your father. It is +strange, but from the hour I knew of his marriage, and of your +dawning life, I have felt a jealous fear lest he should ever take +you from me; even after I am gone, I would not have him know of +your existence and be unable to claim you openly. Any +acquaintance between you could only result in sorrow.</p> +<p>“I have never blamed him for my past weakness, however I +have blamed him for his unholy marriage. Our fault was +mutual. I was no ignorant child; while young in years, I +had sufficient knowledge of human nature to protect myself had I +used my will-power and my reason. Like many another woman, +I used neither; unlike the majority, I did not repent my sin or +its consequences. I have ever believed you to be a more +divinely born being than any children who may have resulted from +my lover’s unholy marriage. I die strong in the +belief. God bless you, my dear child, and +farewell.”</p> +<p>Joy sat silent and pale like one in a trance for a long time +after she had finished reading. Then she said aloud, +“So I am another like Marah Adams; it was this knowledge +which caused the rector to write me that strange letter. It +was this knowledge which sent him away without coming to say one +word of adieu. The woman who sent me the message, sent it +to him also. Well, I can be as brave as my mother +was. I, too, can disappear.”</p> +<p>She arose and began silently and rapidly to make preparations +for a journey. She felt a nervous haste to get away from +something—from all things. Everything stable in the +world seemed to have slipped from her hold in the last few +days. Home, mother, love, and now hope and pride were gone +too. She worked for more than two hours without giving vent +to even a sigh. Then suddenly she buried her face in her +hands and sobbed aloud: “Oh, mother, mother, you were not +ashamed, but I am ashamed for you! Why was I ever +born? God forgive me for the sinful thought, but I wish you +had lied to me in place of telling me the truth.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Just</span> as Mrs Irving had written her +story for her daughter to read, she told it, in the main, to the +rector a few days before her death.</p> +<p>Only once before had the tale passed her lips; then her +listener was Horace Irving; and his only comment was to take her +in his arms and place the kiss of betrothal on her lips. +Never again was the painful subject referred to between +them. So imbued had Berene Dumont become with her belief in +the legitimacy of her child, and in her own purity, that she felt +but little surprise at the calm manner in which Mr Irving +received her story, and now when the rector of St Blank’s +Church was her listener, she expected the same broad judgment to +be given her. But it was the calmness of a great and +all-forgiving love which actuated Mr Irving, and overcame all +other feelings.</p> +<p>Wholly unconventional in nature, caring nothing and knowing +little of the extreme ideas of orthodox society on these +subjects, the girl Berene and the woman Mrs Irving had lived a +life so wholly secluded from the world at large, so absolutely +devoid of intimate friendships, so absorbed in her own ideals, +that she was incapable of understanding the conventional opinion +regarding a woman with a history like hers.</p> +<p>In all those years she had never once felt a sensation of +shame. Mr Irving had requested her to rear Joy in the +belief that she was his child. As the matter could in no +way concern anyone else, Mrs Irving’s lips had remained +sealed on the subject; but not with any idea of concealing a +disgrace. She could not associate disgrace with her love +for Preston Cheney. She believed herself to be his +spiritual widow, as it were. His mortal clay and legal name +only belonged to his wife.</p> +<p>Mr Irving had met Berene on a railroad train, and had +conceived one of those sudden and intense passions with which a +woman with a past often inspires an innocent and unworldly young +man. He was sincerely and truly religious by nature, and as +spotless as a maiden in mind and body.</p> +<p>When he had dreamed of a wife, it was always of some shy, +innocent girl whom he should woo almost from her mother’s +arms; some gentle, pious maid, carefully reared, who would help +him to establish the Christian household of his +imagination. He had thought that love would first come to +him as admiring respect, then tender friendship, then love for +some such maiden; instead it had swooped down upon him in the +form of an intense passion for an absolute stranger—a woman +travelling with a theatrical company. He was like a sleeper +who awakens suddenly and finds a scorching midday sun beating +upon his eyes. A wrecked freight train upon the track +detained for several hours the car in which they travelled. +The passengers waived ceremony and conversed to pass the time, +and Mr Irving learnt Berene’s name, occupation and +destination. He followed her for a week, and at the end of +that time asked her hand in marriage.</p> +<p>Even after he had heard the story of her life, he was not +deterred from his resolve to make her his wife. All the +Christian charity of his nature, all its chivalry was aroused, +and he believed he was plucking a brand from the burning. +He never repented his act. He lived wholly for his wife and +child, and for the good he could do with them as his faithful +allies. He drew more and more away from all the allurements +of the world, and strove to rear Joy in what he believed to be a +purely Christian life, and to make his wife forget, if possible, +that she had ever known a sorrow. All of sincere gratitude, +tenderness, and gentle affection possible for her to feel, Berene +bestowed upon her husband during his life, and gave to his memory +after he was gone.</p> +<p>Joy had been excessively fond of Mr Irving, and it was the +dread of causing her a deep sorrow in the knowledge that she was +not his child, and the fear that Preston Cheney would in any way +interfere with her possession of Joy, which had distressed the +mother during the visit of the Baroness, rather than +unwillingness to have her sin revealed to her daughter. +Added to this, the intrusion of the Baroness into this long +hidden and sacred experience seemed a sacrilege from which she +shrank with horror. But she now told the tale to Arthur +Stuart frankly and fearlessly.</p> +<p>He had asked her to confide to him whatever secret existed +regarding Joy’s birth.</p> +<p>“There is a rumour afloat,” he said, “that +Joy is not Mr Irving’s child. I love your daughter, +Mrs Irving, and I feel it is my right to know all the +circumstances of her life. I believe the story which was +told my mother to be the invention of some enemy who is jealous +of Joy’s beauty and talents, and I would like to be in a +position to silence these slanders.”</p> +<p>So Mrs Irving told the story to the end; and having told it, +she felt relieved and happy in the thought that it was imparted +to the only two people whom it could concern in the future.</p> +<p>No disturbing fear came to her that the rector would hesitate +to make Joy his wife. To Berene Dumont, love was the +law. If love existed between two souls she could not +understand why any convention of society should stand in the way +of its fulfilment.</p> +<p>Arthur Stuart in his rôle of spiritual confessor and +consoler had never before encountered such a phase of human +nature. He had listened to many a tale of sin and folly +from women’s lips, but always had the sinner bemoaned her +sin, and bitterly repented her weakness. Here instead was +what the world would consider a fallen woman, who on her deathbed +regarded her weakness as her strength, her shame as her glory, +and who seemed to expect him to take the same view of the +matter. When he attempted to urge her to repent, the words +stuck in his throat. He left the deathbed of the +unfortunate sinner without having expressed one of the +conflicting emotions which filled his heart. But he left it +with such a weight on his soul, such distress on his mind that +death seemed to him the only way of escape from a life of +torment.</p> +<p>His love for Joy Irving was not killed by the story he had +heard. But it had received a terrible shock, and the +thought of making her his wife with the probability that the +Baroness would spread the scandal broadcast, and that his +marriage would break his mother’s heart, tortured +him. Added to this were his theories on heredity, and the +fear that there might, nay, must be, some dangerous tendency +hidden in the daughter of a mother who had so erred, and who in +dying showed no comprehension of the enormity of her sin. +Had Mrs Irving bewailed her fall, and represented herself as the +victim of a wily villain, the rector would not have felt so great +a fear of the daughter’s inheritance. A frail, +repentant woman he could pity and forgive, but it seemed to him +that Mrs Irving was utterly lacking in moral nature. She +was spiritually blind. The thought tortured him. To +leave Joy at this time without calling to see her seemed base and +cowardly; yet he dared not trust himself in her presence. +So he sent her the strangely worded letter, and went away hoping +to be shown the path of duty before he returned.</p> +<p>At the end of three months he came home stronger in body and +mind. He had resolved to compromise with fate; to continue +his calls upon Joy Irving; to be her friend and rector only, +until by the passage of time, and the changes which occur so +rapidly in every society, the scandal in regard to her birth had +been forgotten. And until by patience and tenderness, he +won his mother’s consent to the union. He felt that +all this must come about as he desired, if he did not aggravate +his mother’s feeling or defy public opinion by too +precipitate methods.</p> +<p>He could not wholly give up all thoughts of Joy Irving. +She had grown to be a part of his hopes and dreams of the future, +as she was a part of the reality of his present. But she +was very young; he could afford to wait, and while he waited to +study the girl’s character, and if he saw any budding shoot +which bespoke the maternal tree, to prune and train it to his own +liking. For the sake of his unborn children he felt it his +duty to carefully study any woman he thought to make his +wife.</p> +<p>But when he reached home, the surprising intelligence awaited +him that Miss Irving had left the metropolis. A brief note +to the church authorities, resigning her position, and saying +that she was about to leave the city, was all that anyone knew of +her.</p> +<p>The rector instituted a quiet search, but only succeeded in +learning that she had conducted her preparations for departure +with the greatest secrecy, and that to no one had she imparted +her plans.</p> +<p>Whenever a young woman shrouds her actions in the garments of +secrecy, she invites suspicion. The people who love to +suspect their fellow-beings of wrong-doing were not absent on +this occasion.</p> +<p>The rector was hurt and wounded by all this, and while he +resented the intimation from another that Miss Irving’s +conduct had been peculiar and mysterious, he felt it to be so in +his own heart.</p> +<p>“Is it her mother’s tendency to adventure +developing in her?” he asked himself.</p> +<p>Yet he wrote her a letter, directing it to her at the old +number, thinking she would at least leave her address with the +post-office for the forwarding of mail. The letter was +returned to him from that cemetery of many a dear hope, the +dead-letter office. A personal in a leading paper failed to +elicit a reply. And then one day six months after the +disappearance of Joy Irving, the young rector was called to the +Cheney household to offer spiritual consolation to Miss Alice, +who believed herself to be dying. She had been in a decline +ever since the rector went away for his health.</p> +<p>Since his return she had seen him but seldom, rarely save in +the pulpit, and for the last six weeks she had been too ill to +attend divine service.</p> +<p>It was Preston Cheney himself, at home upon one of his +periodical visits, who sent for the rector, and gravely met him +at the door when he arrived, and escorted him into his study.</p> +<p>“I am very anxious about my daughter,” he +said. “She has been a nervous child always, and +over-sensitive. I returned yesterday after an absence of +some three months in California, to find Alice in bed, wasted to +a shadow, and constantly weeping. I cannot win her +confidence—she has never confided to me. Perhaps it +is my fault; perhaps I have not been at home enough to make her +realise that the relationship of father and daughter is a sacred +one. This morning when I was urging her to tell me what +grieved her, she remarked that there was but one person to whom +she could communicate this sorrow—her rector. So, my +dear Dr Stuart, I have sent for you. I will conduct you to +my child, and I leave her in your hands. Whatever comfort +and consolation you can offer, I know will be given. I hope +she will not bind you to secrecy; I hope you may be able to tell +me what troubles her, and advise me how to help her.”</p> +<p>It was more than an hour before the rector returned to the +library where Preston Cheney awaited him. When the senator +heard his approaching step, he looked up, and was startled to see +the pallor on the young man’s face. “You have +something sad, something terrible to tell me!” he +cried. “What is it?”</p> +<p>The rector walked across the room several times, breathing +deeply, and with anguish written on his countenance. Then +he took Senator Cheney’s hand and wrung it. “I +have an embarrassing announcement to make to you,” he +said. “It is something so surprising, so unexpected, +that I am completely unnerved.”</p> +<p>“You alarm me, more and more,” the senator +answered. “What can be the secret which my frail +child has imparted to you that should so distress you? +Speak; it is my right to know.”</p> +<p>The rector took another turn about the room, and then came and +stood facing Senator Cheney.</p> +<p>“Your daughter has conceived a strange passion for +me,” he said in a low voice. “It is this which +has caused her illness, and which she says will cause her death, +if I cannot return it.”</p> +<p>“And you?” asked his listener after a +moment’s silence.</p> +<p>“I? Why, I have never thought of your daughter in +any such manner,” the young man replied. “I +have never dreamed of loving her, or winning her love.”</p> +<p>“Then do not marry her,” Preston Cheney said +quietly. “Marriage without love is unholy. Even +to save life it is unpardonable.”</p> +<p>The rector was silent, and walked the room with nervous +steps. “I must go home and think it all out,” +he said after a time. “Perhaps Miss Cheney will find +her grief less, now that she has imparted it to me. I am +alarmed at her condition, and I shall hope for an early report +from you regarding her.”</p> +<p>The report was made twelve hours later. Miss Cheney was +delirious, and calling constantly for the rector. Her +physician feared the worst.</p> +<p>The rector came, and his presence at once soothed the +girl’s delirium.</p> +<p>“History repeats itself,” said Preston Cheney +meditatively to himself. “Alice is drawing this man +into the net by her alarming physical condition, as Mabel riveted +the chains about me when her mother died.</p> +<p>“But Alice really loves the rector, I think, and she is +capable of a much stronger passion than her mother ever felt; and +the rector loves no other woman at least, and so this marriage, +if it takes place, will not be so wholly wicked and unholy as +mine was.”</p> +<p>The marriage did take place three months later. Alice +Cheney was not the wife whom Mrs Stuart would have chosen for her +son, yet she urged him to this step, glad to place a barrier for +all time between him and Joy Irving, whose possible return at any +day she constantly feared, and whose power over her son’s +heart she knew was undiminished.</p> +<p>Alice Cheney’s family was of the best on both sides; +there were wealth, station, and honour; and a step-grandmamma who +could be referred to on occasions as “The +Baroness.” And there was no skeleton to be hidden or +excused.</p> +<p>And Arthur Stuart, believing that Alice Cheney’s life +and reason depended upon his making her his wife, resolved to end +the bitter struggle with his own heart and with fate, and do what +seemed to be his duty, toward the girl and toward his +mother. When the wedding took place, the saddest face at +the ceremony, save that of the groom, was the face of the +bride’s father. But the bride was radiant, and Mabel +and the Baroness walked in clouds.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span> did not rally in health or +spirits after her marriage, as her family, friends and physician +had anticipated. She remained nervous, ailing and +despondent.</p> +<p>“Should maternity come to her, she would doubtless be +very much improved in health afterward,” the doctor said, +and Mabel, remembering how true a similar prediction proved in +her case, despite her rebellion against it, was not sorry when +she knew that Alice was to become a mother, scarcely a year after +her marriage.</p> +<p>But Alice grew more and more despondent as the months passed +by; and after the birth of her son, the young mother developed +dementia of the most hopeless kind. The best specialists in +two worlds were employed to bring her out of the state of settled +melancholy into which she had fallen, but all to no avail. +At the end of two years, her case was pronounced hopeless. +Fortunately the child died at the age of six weeks, so the seed +of insanity which in the first Mrs Lawrence was simply a case of +“nerves,” growing into the plant hysteria in Mabel, +and yielding the deadly fruit of insanity in Alice, was allowed +by a kind providence to become extinct in the fourth +generation.</p> +<p>This disaster to his only child caused a complete breaking +down of spirit and health in Preston Cheney.</p> +<p>Like some great, strongly coupled car, which loses its grip +and goes plunging down an incline to destruction, Preston +Cheney’s will-power lost its hold on life, and he went down +to the valley of death with frightful speed.</p> +<p>During the months which preceded his death, Senator +Cheney’s only pleasure seemed to be in the companionship of +his son-in-law. The strong attachment between the two men +ripened with every day’s association. One day the +rector was sitting by the invalid’s couch, reading aloud, +when Preston Cheney laid his hand on the young man’s arm +and said: “Close your book and let me tell you a true story +which is stranger than fiction. It is the story of an +ambitious man and all the disasters which his realised ambition +brought into the lives of others. It is a story whose +details are known to but two beings on earth, if indeed the other +being still exists on earth. I have long wanted to tell you +this story—indeed, I wanted to tell it to you before you +made Alice your wife, yet the fear that I would be wrecking the +life and reason of my child kept me silent. No doubt if I +had told you, and you had been influenced by my experience +against a loveless marriage, I should to-day be blaming myself +for her condition, which I see plainly now is but the culmination +of three generations of hysterical women. But I want to +tell you the story and urge you to use it as a warning in your +position of counsellor and friend of ambitious young men.</p> +<p>“No matter what else a man may do for position, +don’t let him marry a woman he does not love, especially if +he crucifies a vital passion for another, in order to do +this.” Then Preston Cheney told the story of his life +to his son-in-law; and as the tale proceeded, a strange interest +which increased until it became violent excitement, took +possession of the rector’s brain and heart. The story +was so familiar—so very familiar; and at length, when the +name of <i>Berene Dumont</i> escaped the speaker’s lips, +Arthur Stuart clutched his hands and clenched his teeth to keep +silent until the end of the story came.</p> +<p>“From the hour Berene disappeared, to this very day, no +word or message ever came from her,” the invalid +said. “I have never known whether she was dead or +alive, married, or, terrible thought, perhaps driven into a +reckless life by her one false step with me. This last fear +has been a constant torture to me all these years.</p> +<p>“The world is cruel in its judgment of woman. And +yet I know that it is woman herself who has shaped the opinions +of the world regarding these matters. If men had had their +way since the world began, there would be no virtuous +women. Woman has realised this fact, and she has in +consequence walled herself about with rules and conventions which +have in a measure protected her from man. When any woman +breaks through these conventions and errs, she suffers the scorn +of others who have kept these self-protecting and +society-protecting laws; and, conscious of their scorn, she +believes all hope is lost for ever.</p> +<p>“The fear that Berene took this view of her one mistake, +and plunged into a desperate life, has embittered my whole +existence. Never before did a man suffer such a mental hell +as I have endured for this one act of sin and weakness. Yet +the world, looking at my life of success, would say if it knew +the story, ‘Behold how the man goes free.’ +Free! Great God! there is no bondage so terrible as that of +the mind. I have loved Berene Dumont with a changeless +passion for twenty-three years, and there has not been a day in +all that time that I have not during some hours endured the +agonies of the damned, thinking of all the disasters and misery +that might have come into her life through me. Heaven knows +I would have married her if she had remained. Strange and +intricate as the net was which the devil wove about me when I had +furnished the cords, I could and would have broken through it +after that strange night—at once the heaven and the hell of +my memory—if Berene had remained. As it was—I +married Mabel, and you know what a farce, ending in a tragedy, +our married life has been. God grant that no worse woes +befell Berene; God grant that I may meet her in the spirit world +and tell her how I loved her and longed for her +companionship.”</p> +<p>The young rector’s eyes were streaming with tears, as he +reached over and clasped the sick man’s hands in his. +“You will meet her,” he said with a choked +voice. “I heard this same story, but without names, +from Berene Dumont’s dying lips more than two years +ago. And just as Berene disappeared from you—so her +daughter disappeared from me; and, God help me, dear +father—doubly now my father, I crushed out my great passion +for the glorious natural child of your love, to marry the +loveless, wretched and <i>unnatural</i> child of your +marriage.”</p> +<p>The sick man started up on his couch, his eyes flaming, his +cheeks glowing with sudden lustre.</p> +<p>“My child—the natural child of Berene’s love +and mine, you say; oh, my God, speak and tell me what you mean; +speak before I die of joy so terrible it is like +anguish.”</p> +<p>So then it became the rector’s turn to take the part of +narrator. When the story was ended, Preston Cheney lay +weeping like a woman on his couch; the first tears he had shed +since his mother died and left him an orphan of ten.</p> +<p>“Berene living and dying almost within reach of my +arms—almost within sound of my voice!” he +cried. “Oh, why did I not find her before the grave +closed between us?—and why did no voice speak from that +grave to tell me when I held my daughter’s hand in +mine?—my beautiful child, no wonder my heart went out to +her with such a gush of tenderness; no wonder I was fired with +unaccountable anger and indignation when Mabel and Alice spoke +unkindly of her. Do you remember how her music stirred +me? It was her mother’s heart speaking to mine +through the genius of our child.</p> +<p>“Arthur, you must find her—you must find her for +me! If it takes my whole fortune I must see my daughter, +and clasp her in my arms before I die.”</p> +<p>But this happiness was not to be granted to the dying +man. Overcome by the excitement of this new emotion, he +grew weaker and weaker as the next few days passed, and at the +end of the fifth day his spirit took its flight, let us hope to +join its true mate.</p> +<p>It had been one of his dying requests to have his body taken +to Beryngford and placed beside that of Judge Lawrence.</p> +<p>The funeral services took place in the new and imposing church +edifice which had been constructed recently in Beryngford. +The quiet interior village had taken a leap forward during the +last few years, and was now a thriving city, owing to the +discovery of valuable stone quarries in its borders.</p> +<p>The Baroness and Mabel had never been in Beryngford since the +death of Judge Lawrence many years before; and it was with sad +and bitter hearts that both women recalled the past and realised +anew the disasters which had wrecked their dearest hopes and +ambitions.</p> +<p>The Baroness, broken in spirit and crushed by the insanity of +her beloved Alice, now saw the form of the man whom she had +hopelessly loved for so many years, laid away to crumble back to +dust; and yet, the sorrows which should have softened her soul, +and made her heart tender toward all suffering humanity, rendered +her pitiless as the grave toward one lonely and desolate being +before the shadows of night had fallen upon the grave of Preston +Cheney.</p> +<p>When the funeral march pealed out from the grand new organ +during the ceremonies in the church, both the Baroness and the +rector, absorbed as they were in mournful sorrow, started with +surprise. Both gazed at the organ loft; and there, before +the great instrument, sat the graceful figure of Joy +Irving. The rector’s face grew pale as the corpse in +the casket; the withered cheek of the Baroness turned a sickly +yellow, and a spark of anger dried the moisture in her eyes.</p> +<p>Before the night had settled over the thriving city of +Beryngford, the Baroness dropped a point of virus from the lancet +of her tongue to poison the social atmosphere where Joy Irving +had by the merest accident of fate made her new home, and where +in the office of organist she had, without dreaming of her +dramatic situation, played the requiem at the funeral of her own +father.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Joy Irving</span> had come to Beryngford +at the time when the discoveries of the quarries caused that +village to spring into sudden prominence as a growing city. +Newspaper accounts of the building of the new church, and the +purchase of a large pipe organ, chanced to fall under her eye +just as she was planning to leave the scene of her +unhappiness.</p> +<p>“I can at least only fail if I try for the position of +organist there,” she said, “and if I succeed in this +interior town, I can hide myself from all the world without +incurring heavy expense.”</p> +<p>So all unconsciously Joy fled from the metropolis to the very +place from which her mother had vanished twenty-two years +before.</p> +<p>She had been the organist in the grand new Episcopalian Church +now for three years; and she had made many cordial acquaintances +who would have become near friends, if she had encouraged +them. But Joy’s sweet and trustful nature had +received a great shock in the knowledge of the shadow which hung +about her birth. Where formerly she had expected love and +appreciation from everyone she met, she now shrank from forming +new ties, lest new hurts should await her.</p> +<p>She was like a flower in whose perfect heart a worm had +coiled. Her entire feeling about life had undergone a +change. For many weeks after her self-imposed exile, she +had been unable to think of her mother without a mingled sense of +shame and resentment; the adoring love she had borne this being +seemed to die with her respect. After a time the bitterness +of this sentiment wore away, and a pitying tenderness and sorrow +took its place; but from her heart the twin angels, Love and +Forgiveness, were absent. She read her mother’s +manuscript over, and tried to argue herself into the philosophy +which had sustained the author of her being through all these +years.</p> +<p>But her mind was shaped far more after the conventional +pattern of her paternal ancestors, who had been New England +Puritans, and she could not view the subject as Berene had viewed +it.</p> +<p>In spite of the ideality which her mother had woven about him, +Joy entertained the most bitter contempt for the unknown man who +was her father, and the whole tide of her affections turned +lavishly upon the memory of Mr Irving, whom she felt now more +than ever so worthy of her regard.</p> +<p>Reason as she would on the supremacy of love over law, yet the +bold, unpleasant fact remained that she was the child of an +unwedded mother. She shrank in sensitive pain from having +this story follow her, and the very consciousness that her +mother’s experience had been an exceptional one, caused her +the greater dread of having it known and talked of as a common +vulgar liaison.</p> +<p>There are two things regarding which the world at large never +asks any questions—namely, How a rich man made his money, +and how an erring woman came to fall. It is enough for the +world to know that he is rich—that fact alone opens all +doors to him, as the fact that the woman has erred closes them to +her.</p> +<p>There was a common vulgar creature in Beryngford, whose many +amours and bold defiance of law and order rendered her name a +synonym for indecency. This woman had begun her career in +early girlhood as a mercenary intriguer; and yet Joy Irving knew +that the majority of people would make small distinctions between +the conduct of this creature and that of her mother, were the +facts of Berene’s life and her own birth to be made +public.</p> +<p>The fear that the story would follow her wherever she went +became an absolute dread with her, and caused her to live alone +and without companions, in the midst of people who would gladly +have become her warm friends, had she permitted.</p> +<p>Her book of “Impressions” reflected the changes +which had taken place in the complexion of her mind during these +years. Among its entries were the following:—</p> +<blockquote><p>People talk about following a divine law of love, +when they wish to excuse their brute impulses and break social +and civil codes.</p> +<p>No love is sanctioned by God, which shatters human hearts.</p> +<p>Fathers are only distantly related to their children; love for +the male parent is a matter of education.</p> +<p>The devil macadamises all his pavements.</p> +<p>A natural child has no place in an unnatural world.</p> +<p>When we cannot respect our parents, it is difficult to keep +our ideal of God.</p> +<p>Love is a mushroom, and lust is its poisonous counterpart.</p> +<p>It is a pity that people who despise civilisation should be so +uncivil as to stay in it. There is always darkest +Africa.</p> +<p>The extent of a man’s gallantry depends on the +goal. He follows the good woman to the borders of Paradise +and leaves her with a polite bow; but he follows the bad woman to +the depths of hell.</p> +<p>It is easy to trust in God until he permits us to +suffer. The dentist seems a skilled benefactor to mankind +when we look at his sign from the street. When we sit in +his chair he seems a brute, armed with devil’s +implements.</p> +<p>An anonymous letter is the bastard of a diseased mind.</p> +<p>An envious woman is a spark from Purgatory.</p> +<p>The consciousness that we have anything to hide from the world +stretches a veil between our souls and heaven. We cannot +reach up to meet the gaze of God, when we are afraid to meet the +eyes of men.</p> +<p>It may be all very well for two people to make their own laws, +but they have no right to force a third to live by them.</p> +<p>Virtue is very secretive about her payments, but the whole +world hears of it when vice settles up.</p> +<p>We have a sublime contempt for public opinion theoretically so +long as it favours us. When it turns against us we suffer +intensely from the loss of what we claimed to despise.</p> +<p>When the fruit must apologise for the tree, we do not care to +save the seed.</p> +<p>It is only when God and man have formed a syndicate and agreed +upon their laws, that marriage is a safe investment.</p> +<p>The love that does not protect its object would better change +its name.</p> +<p>When we say <i>of</i> people what we would not say <i>to</i> +them, we are either liars or cowards.</p> +<p>The enmity of some people is the greatest compliment they can +pay us.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It was in thoughts like these that Joy relieved her heart of +some of the bitterness and sorrow which weighed upon it. +And day after day she bore about with her the dread of having the +story of her mother’s sin known in her new home.</p> +<p>As our fears, like our wishes, when strong and unremitting, +prove to be magnets, the result of Joy’s despondent fears +came in the scandal which the Baroness had planted and left to +flourish and grow in Beryngford after her departure. An +hour before the services began, on the day of Preston +Cheney’s burial, Joy learned at whose rites she was to +officiate as organist. A pang of mingled emotions shot +through her heart at the sound of his name. She had seen +this man but a few times, and spoken with him but once; yet he +had left a strong impression upon her memory. She had felt +drawn to him by his sympathetic face and atmosphere, the sorrow +of his kind eyes, and the keen appreciation he had shown in her +art; and just in the measure that she had been attracted by him, +she had been repelled by the three women to whom she was +presented at the same time. She saw them all again +mentally, as she had seen them on that and many other days. +Mrs Cheney and Alice, with their fretful, plain, dissatisfied +faces, and their over-burdened costumes, and the Baroness, with +her cruel heart gazing through her worn mask of defaced +beauty.</p> +<p>She had been conscious of a feeling of overwhelming pity for +the kind, attractive man who made the fourth of that +quartette. She knew that he had obtained honours and riches +from life, but she pitied him for his home environment. She +had felt so thankful for her own happy home life at the time; and +she remembered, too, the sweet hope that lay like a closed-up bud +in the bottom of her heart that day, as the quartette moved away +and left her standing alone with Arthur Stuart.</p> +<p>It was only a few weeks later that the end came to all her +dreams, through that terrible anonymous letter.</p> +<p>It was the Baroness who had sent it, she knew—the +Baroness whose early hatred for her mother had descended to the +child. “And now I must sit in the same house with her +again,” she said, “and perhaps meet her face to face; +and she may tell the story here of my mother’s shame, even +as I have felt and feared it must yet be told. How strange +that a ‘love child’ should inspire so much +hatred!”</p> +<p>Joy had carefully refrained from reading New York papers ever +since she left the city; and she had no correspondents. It +was her wish and desire to utterly sink and forget the past life +there. Therefore she knew nothing of Arthur Stuart’s +marriage to the daughter of Preston Cheney. She thought of +the rector as dead to her. She believed he had given her up +because of the stain upon her birth, and, bitter as the pain had +been, she never blamed him. She had fought with her love +for him and believed that it was buried in the grave of all other +happy memories.</p> +<p>But as the earth is wrenched open by volcanic eruptions and +long buried corpses are revealed again to the light of day, so +the unexpected sight of Arthur Stuart, as he took his place +beside Mabel and the Baroness during the funeral services, +revealed all the pent-up passion of her heart to her own +frightened soul.</p> +<p>To strong natures, the greater the inward excitement the more +quiet the exterior; and Jay passed through the services, and +performed her duties, without betraying to those about her the +violent emotions under which she laboured.</p> +<p>The rector of Beryngford Church requested her to remain for a +few moments, and consult with him on a matter concerning the next +week’s musical services. It was from him Joy learned +the relation which Arthur Stuart bore to the dead man, and that +Beryngford was the former home of the Baroness.</p> +<p>Her mother’s manuscript had carefully avoided all +mention of names of people or places. Yet Joy realised now +that she must be living in the very scene of her mother’s +early life; she longed to make inquiries, but was prevented by +the fear that she might hear her mother’s name mentioned +disrespectfully.</p> +<p>The days that followed were full of sharp agony for her. +It was not until long afterward that she was able to write her +“impressions” of that experience. In the +extreme hour of joy or agony we formulate no impressions; we only +feel. We neither analyse nor describe our friends or +enemies when face to face with them, but after we leave their +presence. When the day came that she could write, some of +her reflections were thus epitomised:</p> +<blockquote><p>Love which rises from the grave to comfort us, +possesses more of the demons’ than the angels’ +power. It terrifies us with its supernatural qualities and +deprives us temporarily of our reason.</p> +<p>Suppressed steam and suppressed emotion are dangerous things +to deal with.</p> +<p>The infant who wants its mother’s breast, and the woman +who wants her lover’s arms, are poor subjects to reason +with. Though you tell the former that fever has poisoned +the mother’s milk, or the latter that destruction lies in +the lover’s embrace, one heeds you no more than the +other.</p> +<p>The accumulated knowledge of ages is sometimes revealed by a +kiss. Where wisdom is bliss, it is folly to be +ignorant.</p> +<p>Some of us have to crucify our hearts before we find our +souls.</p> +<p>A woman cannot fully know charity until she has met passion; +but too intimate an acquaintance with the latter destroys her +appreciation of all the virtues.</p> +<p>To feel temptation and resist it, renders us liberal in our +judgment of all our kind. To yield to it, fills us with +suspicion of all.</p> +<p>There is an ecstatic note in pain which is never reached in +happiness.</p> +<p>The death of a great passion is a terrible thing, unless the +dawn of a greater truth shines on the grave.</p> +<p>Love ought to have no past tense.</p> +<p>Love partakes of the feline nature. It has nine +lives.</p> +<p>It seems to be difficult for some of us to distinguish between +looseness of views, and charitable judgments. To be sorry +for people’s sins and follies and to refuse harsh criticism +is right; to accept them as a matter of course is wrong.</p> +<p>Love and sorrow are twins, and knowledge is their nurse.</p> +<p>The pathway of the soul is not a steady ascent, but hilly and +broken. We must sometimes go lower, in order to get +higher.</p> +<p>That which is to-day, and will be to-morrow, must have been +yesterday. I know that I live, I believe that I shall live +again, and have lived before.</p> +<p>Earth life is the middle rung of a long ladder which we climb +in the dark. Though we cannot see the steps below, or +above, they exist all the same.</p> +<p>The materialist denying spirit is like the burr of the +chestnut denying the meat within.</p> +<p>The inevitable is always right.</p> +<p>Prayer is a skeleton key that opens unexpected doors. We +may not find the things we came to seek, but we find other +treasures.</p> +<p>The pessimist belongs to God’s misfit counter.</p> +<p>Art, when divorced from Religion, always becomes a wanton.</p> +<p>To forget benefits we have received is a crime. To +remember benefits we have bestowed is a greater one.</p> +<p>To some men a woman is a valuable book, carefully studied and +choicely guarded behind glass doors. To others, she is a +daily paper, idly scanned and tossed aside.</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">While</span> Joy battled with her sorrow +during the days following Preston Cheney’s burial, she woke +to the consciousness that her history was known in +Beryngford. The indescribable change in the manner of her +acquaintances, the curiosity in the eyes of some, the insolence +or familiarity of others, all told her that her fears were +realised; and then there came a letter from the church +authorities requesting her to resign her position as +organist.</p> +<p>This letter came to the young girl on one of those dreary +autumn nights when all the desolation of the dying summer, and +none of the exhilaration of the approaching winter, is in the +air. She had been labouring all day under a cloud of +depression which hovered over her heart and brain and threatened +to wholly envelop her; and the letter from the church committee +cut her heart like a poniard stroke. Sometimes we are able +to bear a series of great disasters with courage and equanimity, +while we utterly collapse under some slight misfortune. Joy +had been a heroine in her great sorrows, but now in the +undeserved loss of her position as church organist, she felt +herself unable longer to cope with Fate.</p> +<p>“There’s no place for me anywhere,” she said +to herself. Had she known the truth, that the Baroness had +represented her to the committee as a fallen woman of the +metropolis, who had left the city for the city’s good, the +letter would not have seemed to her so cruelly unjust and +unjustifiable.</p> +<p>Bitter as had been her suffering at the loss of Arthur Stuart +from her life, she had found it possible to understand his +hesitation to make her his wife. With his fine sense of +family pride, and his reverence for the estate of matrimony, his +belief in heredity, it seemed quite natural to her that he should +be shocked at the knowledge of the conditions under which she was +born; and the thought that her disappearance from his life was +helping him to solve a painful problem, had at times, before this +unexpected sight of him, rendered her almost happy in her lonely +exile. She had grown strangely fond of Beryngford—of +the old streets and homes which she knew must have been familiar +to her mother’s eyes, of the new church whose glorious +voiced organ gave her so many hours of comfort and relief of +soul, of the tiny apartment where she and her heart communed +together. She was catlike in her love of places, and now +she must tear herself away from all these surroundings and seek +some new spot wherein to hide herself and her sorrows.</p> +<p>It was like tearing up a half-rooted flower, already drooping +from one transplanting. She said to herself that she could +never survive another change. She read the letter over +which lay in her hand, and tears began to slowly well from her +eyes. Joy seldom wept; but now it seemed to her she was +some other person, who stood apart and wept tears of sympathy for +this poor girl, Joy Irving, whose life was so hemmed about with +troubles, none of which were of her own making; and then, like a +dam which suddenly gives way and allows a river to overflow, a +great storm of sobs shook her frame, and she wept as she had +never wept before; and with her tears there came rushing back to +her heart all the old love and sorrow for the dead mother which +had so long been hidden under her burden of shame; and all the +old passion and longing for the man whose insane wife she knew to +be a more hopeless obstacle between them than this mother’s +history had proven.</p> +<p>“Mother, Arthur, pity me, pity me!” she +cried. “I am all alone, and the strife is so +terrible. I have never meant to harm any living +thing! Mother Arthur, <i>God</i>, how can you all desert me +so?”</p> +<p>At last, exhausted, she fell into a deep and dreamless +sleep.</p> +<p>She awoke the following morning with an aching head, and a +heart wherein all emotions seemed dead save a dull despair. +She was conscious of only one wish, one desire—a longing to +sit again in the organ loft, and pour forth her soul in one last +farewell to that instrument which had grown to seem her friend, +confidant and lover.</p> +<p>She battled with her impulse as unreasonable and unwise, till +the day was well advanced. But it grew stronger with each +hour; and at last she set forth under a leaden sky and through a +dreary November rain to the church.</p> +<p>Her head throbbed with pain, and her hands were hot and +feverish, as she seated herself before the organ and began to +play. But with the first sounds responding to her touch, +she ceased to think of bodily discomfort.</p> +<p>The music was the voice of her own soul, uttering to God all +its desolation, its anguish and its despair. Then suddenly, +with no seeming volition of her own, it changed to a passion of +human love, human desire; the sorrow of separation, the strife +with the emotions, the agony of renunciation were all there; and +the November rain, beating in wild gusts against the window-panes +behind the musician, lent a fitting accompaniment to the +strains.</p> +<p>She had been playing for perhaps an hour, when a sudden +exhaustion seized upon her, and her hands fell nerveless and +inert upon her lap; she dropped her chin upon her breast and +closed her eyes. She was drunken with her own music.</p> +<p>When she opened them again a few moments later, they fell upon +the face of Arthur Stuart, who stood a few feet distant regarding +her with haggard eyes. Unexpected and strange as his +presence was, Joy felt neither surprise nor wonder. She had +been thinking of him so intensely, he had been so interwoven with +the music she had been playing, that his bodily presence appeared +to her as a natural result. He was the first to speak; and +when he spoke she noticed that his voice sounded hoarse and +broken, and that his face was drawn and pale.</p> +<p>“I came to Beryngford this morning expressly to see you, +Joy,” he said. “I have many things to say to +you. I went to your residence and was told by the maid that +I would find you here. I followed, as you see. We +have had many meetings in church edifices, in organ lofts. +It seems natural to find you in such a place, but I fear it will +be unnatural and unfitting to say to you here, what I came to +say. Shall we return to your home?”</p> +<p>His eyes shone strangely from dusky caverns, and there were +deep lines about his mouth.</p> +<p>“He, too, has suffered,” thought Joy; “I +have not borne it all alone.” Then she said +aloud:</p> +<p>“We are quite undisturbed here; I know of nothing I +could listen to in my room which I could not hear you say in this +place. Go on.”</p> +<p>He looked at her silently for a moment, his cheeks pale, his +breast heaving. Before he came to Beryngford, he had fought +his battle between religion and human passion, and passion had +won. He had cast under his feet every principle and +tradition in which he had been reared, and resolved to live alone +henceforth for the love and companionship of one human being, +could he obtain her consent to go with him.</p> +<p>Yet for the moment, he hesitated to speak the words he had +resolved to utter, under the roof of a house of God, so strong +were the influences of his early training and his habits of +thought. But as his eyes feasted upon the face before him, +his hesitation vanished, and he leaned toward her and +spoke. “Joy,” he said, “three years ago I +went away and left you in sorrow, alone, because I was afraid to +brave public opinion, afraid to displease my mother and ask you +to be my wife. The story your mother told me of your birth, +a story she left in manuscript for you to read, made a social +coward of me. I was afraid to take a girl born out of +wedlock to be my life companion, the mother of my children. +Well, I married a girl born in wedlock; and where is my +companion?” He paused and laughed recklessly. +Then he went on hurriedly: “She is in an asylum for the +insane. I am chained to a corpse for life. I had not +enough moral courage three-years ago to make you my wife. +But I have moral courage enough now to come here and ask you to +go with me to Australia, and begin a new life together. My +mother died a year ago. I donned the surplice at her +bidding. I will abandon it at the bidding of Love. I +sinned against heaven in marrying a woman I did not love. I +am willing to sin against the laws of man by living with the +woman I do love; will you go with me, Joy?” There was +silence save for the beating of the rain against the stained +window, and the wailing of the wind.</p> +<p>Joy was in a peculiarly overwrought condition of mind and +body. Her hours of extravagant weeping the previous night, +followed by a day of fasting, left her nervous system in a state +to be easily excited by the music she had been playing. She +was virtually intoxicated with sorrow and harmony. She was +incapable of reasoning, and conscious only of two +things—that she must leave Beryngford, and that the man +whom she had loved with her whole heart for five years, was +asking her to go with him; to be no more homeless, unloved, and +alone, but his companion while life should last.</p> +<p>“Answer me, Joy,” he was pleading. +“Answer me.”</p> +<p>She moved toward the stairway that led down to the street +door; and as she flitted by him, she said, looking him full in +the eyes with a slow, grave smile, “Yes, Arthur, I will go +with you.”</p> +<p>He sprang toward her with a wild cry of joy, but she was +already flying down the stairs and out upon the street.</p> +<p>When he joined her, they walked in silence through the rain to +her door, neither speaking a word, until he would have followed +her within. Then she laid her hand upon his shoulder and +said gently but firmly: “Not now, Arthur; we must not see +each other again until we go away. Write me where to meet +you, and I will join you within twenty-four hours. Do not +urge me—you must obey me this once—afterward I will +obey you. Good-night.”</p> +<p>As she closed the door upon him, he said, “Oh, Joy, I +have so much to tell you. I promised your father when he +was dying that I would find you; I swore to myself that when I +found you I would never leave you, save at your own +command. I go now, only because you bid me go. When +we meet again, there must be no more parting; and you shall hear +a story stranger than the wildest fiction—the story of your +father’s life. Despite your mother’s +secretiveness regarding this portion of her history, the +knowledge has come to me in the most unexpected manner, from the +lips of the man himself.”</p> +<p>Joy listened dreamily to the words he was saying. Her +father—she was to know who her father was? Well, it +did not matter much to her now—father, mother, what were +they, what was anything save the fact that he had come back to +her and that he loved her?</p> +<p>She smiled silently into his eyes. Glance became +entangled with glance, and would not be separated.</p> +<p>He pushed open the almost closed door and she felt herself +enveloped with arms and lips.</p> +<p>A second later she stood alone, leaning dizzily against the +door; heart, brain and blood in a mad riot of emotion.</p> +<p>Then she fell into a chair and covered her burning face with +her hands as she whispered, “Mother, mother, forgive +me—I understand—I understand.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first shock of the awakened +emotions brings recklessness to some women, and to others +fear.</p> +<p>The more frivolous plunge forward like the drunken man who +leaps from the open window believing space is water.</p> +<p>The more intense draw back, startled at the unknown world +before them.</p> +<p>The woman who thinks love is all ideality is more liable to +follow into undreamed-of chasms than she who, through the +complexity of her own emotions, realises its grosser +elements.</p> +<p>It was long after midnight when Joy fell into a heavy sleep, +the night of Arthur Stuart’s visit. She heard the +drip of the dreary November rain upon the roof, and all the light +and warmth seemed stricken from the universe save the fierce fire +in her own heart.</p> +<p>When she woke in the late morning, great splashes of sunlight +were leaping and quivering like living things across the foot of +her bed; she sprang up, dazed for a moment by the flood of light +in the room, and went to the window and looked out upon a +sun-kissed world smiling in the arms of a perfect Indian summer +day.</p> +<p>A happy little sparrow chirped upon the window sill, and some +children ran across the street bare-headed, exulting in the soft +air. All was innocence and sweetness. Mind and morals +are greatly influenced by weather. Many things seem right +in the fog and gloom, which we know to be wrong in the clear +light of a sunny morning. The events of the previous day +came back to Joy’s mind as she stood by the window, and +stirred her with a sense of strangeness and terror. The +thought of the step she had resolved to take brought a sudden +trembling to her limbs. It seemed to her the eyes of God +were piercing into her heart, and she was afraid.</p> +<p>Joy had from her early girlhood been an earnest and sincere +follower of the Christian religion. The embodiment of love +and sympathy herself, it was natural for her to believe in the +God of Love and to worship Him in outward forms, as well as in +her secret soul. It was the deep and earnest fervour of +religion in her heart, which rendered her music so unusual and so +inspiring. There never was, is not and never can be +greatness in any art where religious feeling is lacking.</p> +<p>There must be the consciousness of the Infinite, in the mind +which produces infinite results.</p> +<p>Though the artist be gifted beyond all other men, though he +toil unremittingly, so long as he says, “Behold what I, the +gifted and tireless toiler, can achieve,” he shall produce +but mediocre and ephemeral results. It is when he says +reverently, “Behold what powers greater than I shall +achieve through me, the instrument,” that he becomes great +and men marvel at his power.</p> +<p>Joy’s religious nature found expression in her music, +and so something more than a harmony of beautiful sounds +impressed her hearers.</p> +<p>The first severe blow to her faith in the church as a divine +institution, was when her rector and her lover left her alone in +the hour of her darkest trials, because he knew the story of her +mother’s life. His hesitancy to make her his wife she +understood, but his absolute desertion of her at such a time, +seemed inconsistent with his calling as a disciple of the +Christ.</p> +<p>The second blow came in her dismissal from the position of +organist at the Beryngford Church, after the presence of the +Baroness in the town.</p> +<p>A disgust for human laws, and a bitter resentment towards +society took possession of her. When a gentle and loving +nature is roused to anger and indignation, it is often capable of +extremes of action; and Arthur Stuart had made his proposition of +flight to Joy Irving in an hour when her high-wrought emotions +and intensely strung nerves made any desperate act possible to +her. The sight of his face, with its evidences of severe +suffering, awoke all her smouldering passion for the man; and the +thought that he was ready to tread his creed under his feet and +to defy society for her sake, stirred her with a wild joy. +God had seemed very far away, and human love was very precious; +too precious to be thrown away in obedience to any man-made +law.</p> +<p>But somehow this morning God seemed nearer, and the +consciousness of what she had promised to do terrified her. +Disturbed by her thoughts, she turned towards her toilet-table +and caught sight of the letter of dismissal from the church +committee. It acted upon her like an electric shock. +Resentment and indignation re-enthroned themselves in her +bosom.</p> +<p>“Is it to cater to the opinions and prejudices of people +like <i>these</i> that I hesitate to take the happiness offered +me?” she cried, as she tore the letter in bits and cast it +beneath her feet. Arthur Stuart appeared to her once more, +in the light of a delivering angel. Yes, she would go with +him to the ends of the earth. It was her inheritance to +lead a lawless life. Nothing else was possible for +her. God must see how she had been hemmed in by +circumstances, how she had been goaded and driven from the paths +of peace and purity where she had wished to dwell. God was +not a man, and He would be merciful in judging her.</p> +<p>She sent her landlady two months’ rent in advance, and +notice of her departure, and set hurriedly about her +preparations.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Twenty-five years before, when Berene Dumont disappeared from +Beryngford, she had, quite unknown to herself, left one devoted +though humble friend behind, who sincerely mourned her +absence.</p> +<p>Mrs Connor liked to be spoken of as “the wash-lady at +the Palace.” Yet proud as she was of this +appellation, she was not satisfied with being an excellent +laundress. She was a person of ambitions. To be the +owner of a lodging-house, like the Baroness, was her leading +ambition, and to possess a “peany” for her young +daughter Kathleen was another.</p> +<p>She kept her mind fixed on these two achievements, and she +worked always for those two results. And as mind rules +matter, so the laundress became in time the landlady of a +comfortable and respectable lodging-house, and in its parlour a +piano was the chief object of furniture.</p> +<p>Kathleen Connor learned to play; and at last to the joy of the +lodgers, she married and bore her “peany” away with +her. During the time when Mrs Connor was the ambitious +“wash-lady” at the Palace, Berene Dumont came to live +there; and every morning when the young woman carried the tray +down to the kitchen after having served the Baroness with her +breakfast, she offered Mrs Connor a cup of coffee and a slice of +toast.</p> +<p>This simple act of thoughtfulness from the young dependant +touched the Irishwoman’s tender heart and awoke her lasting +gratitude. She had heard Berene’s story, and she had +been prepared to mete out to her that disdainful dislike which +Erin almost invariably feels towards France. Realising that +the young widow was by birth and breeding above the station of +housemaid, Mrs Connor and the servants had expected her to treat +them with the same lofty airs which the Baroness made familiar to +her servants. When, instead, Berene toasted the bread for +Mrs Connor, and poured the coffee and placed it on the kitchen +table with her own hands, the heart of the wash-lady melted in +her ample breast. When the heart of the daughter of Erin +melts, it permeates her whole being; and Mrs Connor became a +secret devotee at the shrine of Miss Dumont.</p> +<p>She had never entertained cordial feelings toward the +Baroness. When a society lady—especially a titled +one—enters into competition with working people, and yet +refuses to associate with them, it always incites their +enmity. The working population of Beryngford, from the +highest to the lowest grades, felt a sense of resentment toward +the Baroness, who in her capacity of landlady still maintained +the airs of a grand dame, and succeeded in keeping her footing +with some of the most fashionable people in the town.</p> +<p>Added to these causes of dislike, the Baroness was, like many +wealthier people, excessively close in her dealings with working +folk, haggling over a few cents or a few moments of wasted time, +while she was generosity itself in association with her +equals.</p> +<p>Mrs Connor, therefore, felt both pity and sympathy for Miss +Dumont, whose position in the Palace she knew to be a difficult +one; and when Preston Cheney came upon the scene the romantic +mind of the motherly Irishwoman fashioned a future for the young +couple which would have done credit to the pen of a Mrs +Southworth.</p> +<p>Mr Cheney always had a kind word for the laundress, and a tip +as well; and when Mrs Connor’s dream of seeing him act the +part of the Prince and Berene the Cinderella of a modern fairy +story, ended in the disappearance of Miss Dumont and the marriage +of Mr Cheney to Mabel Lawrence, the unhappy wash-lady mourned +unceasingly.</p> +<p>Ten years of hard, unremitting toil and rigid economy passed +away before Mrs Connor could realise her ambition of becoming a +landlady in the purchase of a small house which contained but +four rooms, three of which were rented to lodgers. The +increase in the value of her property during the next five years, +left the fortunate speculator with a fine profit when she sold +her house at the end of that time, and rented a larger one; and +as she was an excellent financier, it was not strange that, at +the time Joy Irving appeared on the scene, “Mrs +Connor’s apartments” were as well and favourably +known in Beryngford, if not as distinctly fashionable, as the +Palace had been more than twenty years ago.</p> +<p>So it was under the roof of her mother’s devoted and +faithful mourner that the unhappy young orphan had found a home +when she came to hide herself away from all who had ever known +her.</p> +<p>The landlady experienced the same haunting sensation of +something past and gone when she looked on the girl’s +beautiful face, which had so puzzled the Baroness; a something +which drew and attracted the warm heart of the Irishwoman, as the +magnet draws the steel. Time and experience had taught Mrs +Connor to be discreet in her treatment of her tenants; to curb +her curiosity and control her inclination to sociability. +But in the case of Miss Irving she had found it impossible to +refrain from sundry kindly acts which were not included in the +terms of the contract. Certain savoury dishes found their +way mysteriously to Miss Irving’s <i>ménage</i>, and +flowers appeared in her room as if by magic, and in various other +ways the good heart and intentions of Mrs Connor were +unobtrusively expressed toward her favourite tenant. Joy +had taken a suite of four rooms, where, with her maid, she lived +in modest comfort and complete retirement from the social world +of Beryngford, save as the close connection of the church with +Beryngford society rendered her, in the position of organist, a +participant in many of the social features of the town. +While Joy was in the midst of her preparations for departure, Mrs +Connor made her appearance with swollen eyes and red, blistered +face.</p> +<p>“And it’s the talk of that ould witch of a +Baroness, may the divil run away with her, that is drivin’ +ye away, is it?” she cried excitedly; “and it’s +not Mrs Connor as will consist to the daughter of your mother, +God rest her soul, lavin’ my house like this. To +think that I should have had ye here all these years, and never +known ye to be her child till now, and now to see ye driven away +by the divil’s own! But if it’s the fear of not +being able to pay the rint because ye’ve lost your +position, ye needn’t lave for many a long day to +come. It’s Mrs Connor would only be as happy as the +queen herself to work her hands to the bone for ye, remembering +your darlint of a mother, and not belavin’ one word against +her, nor ye.”</p> +<p>So soon as Joy could gain possession of her surprised senses, +she calmed the weeping woman and began to question her.</p> +<p>“My good woman,” she said, “what are you +talking about? Did you ever know my mother, and where did +you know her?”</p> +<p>“In the Palace, to be sure, as they called the house of +that imp of Satan, the Baroness. I was the wash-lady there, +for it’s not Mrs Conner the landlady as is above +spakin’ of the days when she wasn’t as high in the +world as she is now; and many is the cheerin’ cup of coffee +or tay from your own mother’s hand, that I’ve had in +the forenoon, to chirk me up and put me through my washing, bless +her sweet face; and niver have I forgotten her; and niver have I +ceased to miss her and the fine young man that took such an +interest in her and that I’m as sure loved her, in spite of +his marrying the Judge’s spook of a daughter, as I am that +the Holy Virgin loves us all; and it’s a foine man that +your father must have been, but young Mr Cheney was +foiner.”</p> +<p>So little by little Joy drew the story from Mrs Connor and +learned the name of the mysterious father, so carefully guarded +from her in Mrs Irving’s manuscript, the father at whose +funeral services she had so recently officiated as organist.</p> +<p>And strangest and most startling of all, she learned that +Arthur Stuart’s insane wife was her half-sister.</p> +<p>Added to all this, Joy was made aware of the nature of the +reports which the Baroness had been circulating about her; and +her feeling of bitter resentment and anger toward the church +committee was modified by the knowledge that it was not owing to +the shadow on her birth, but to the false report of her own evil +life, that she had been asked to resign.</p> +<p>After Mrs Connor had gone, Joy was for a long time in +meditation, and then turned in a mechanical manner to her delayed +task. Her book of “Impressions” lay on a table +close at hand.</p> +<p>And as she took it up the leaves opened to the sentence she +had written three years before, after her talk with the rector +about Marah Adams.</p> +<blockquote><p>“It seems to me I could not love a man who +did not seek to lead me higher; the moment he stood below me and +asked me to descend, I should realise he was to be pitied, not +adored!”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>She shut the book and fell on her knees in prayer; and as she +prayed a strange thing happened. The room filled with a +peculiar mist, like the smoke which is illuminated by the +brilliant rays of the morning sun; and in the midst of it a small +square of intense rose-coloured light was visible. This +square grew larger and larger, until it assumed the size and form +of a man, whose face shone with immortal glory. He smiled +and laid his hand on Joy’s head. “Child, +awake,” he said, and with these words vast worlds dawned +upon the girl’s sight. She stood above and apart from +her grosser body, untrammelled and free; she saw long vistas of +lives in the past through which she had come to the present; she +saw long vistas of lives in the future through which she must +pass to gain the experience which would lead her back to +God. An ineffable peace and serenity enveloped her. +The divine Presence seemed to irradiate the place in which she +stood—she felt herself illuminated, transfigured, +sanctified by the holy flame within her.</p> +<p>When she came back to the kneeling form by the couch, and rose +to her feet, all the aspect of life had changed for her.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Joy Irving</span> had unpacked her trunks +and set her small apartment to rights, when the postman’s +ring sounded, and a moment later a letter was slipped under her +door.</p> +<p>She picked it up, and recognised Arthur Stuart’s +penmanship. She sat down, holding the unopened letter in +her hands.</p> +<p>“It is Arthur’s message, appointing a time and +place for our meeting,” she said to herself. +“How long ago that strange interview with him +seems!—yet it was only yesterday. How utterly the +whole of life has changed for me since then! The universe +seems larger, God nearer, and life grander. I am as one who +slept and dreamed of darkness and sorrow, and awakes to light and +joy.”</p> +<p>But when she opened the envelope and read the few hastily +written lines within, an exclamation of surprise escaped her +lips. It was a brief note from Arthur Stuart and began +abruptly without an address (a manner more suggestive of strong +passion than any endearing words).</p> +<blockquote><p>“The first item which my eye fell upon in +the telegraphic column of the morning paper, was the death of my +wife in the Retreat for the Insane. I leave by the first +express to bring her body here for burial.</p> +<p>“A merciful providence has saved us the necessity of +defying the laws of God or man, and opened the way for me to +claim you before all the world as my worshipped wife so soon as +propriety will permit.</p> +<p>“I shall see you at any hour you may indicate after +to-morrow, for a brief interview.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span class="smcap">Arthur +Emerson Stuart</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Joy held the letter in her hand a long time, lost in profound +reflection. Then she sat down to her desk and wrote three +letters; one was to Mrs Lawrence; one to the chairman of the +church committee, who had requested her resignation; the third +was to Mr Stuart, and read thus:</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Mr +Stuart</span>,—Many strange things have occurred to me +since I saw you. I have learned the name of my father, and +this knowledge reveals the fact to me that your unfortunate wife +was my half-sister. I have learned, too, that the loss of +my position here as organist is not due to the narrow prejudice +of the committee regarding the shadow on my birth, but to +malicious stories put in circulation by Mrs Lawrence, relating to +me.</p> +<p>“Infamous and libellous tales regarding my life have +been told, and must be refuted. I have written to Mrs +Lawrence demanding a letter from her, clearing my personal +character, or giving her the alternative of appearing in court to +answer the charge of defamation of character. I have also +written to the church committee requesting them to meet me here +in my apartments to-morrow, and explain their demand for my +resignation.</p> +<p>“I now write to you my last letter and my farewell.</p> +<p>“In the overwrought and desperate mood in which you +found me, it did not seem a sin for me to go away with the man +who loved me and whom I loved, before false ideas of life and +false ideas of duty made him the husband of another. +Conscious that your wife was a hopeless lunatic whose present or +future could in no way be influenced by our actions, I reasoned +that we wronged no one in taking the happiness so long denied +us.</p> +<p>“The last three years of my life have been full of +desolation and sorrow. From the day my mother died, the +stars of light which had gemmed the firmament for me, seemed one +by one to be obliterated, until I stood in utter darkness. +You found me in the very blackest hour of all—and you +seemed a shining sun to me.</p> +<p>“Yet so soon as my tired brain and sorrow-worn heart +were able to think and reason, I realised that it was not the man +I had worshipped as an ideal, who had come to me and asked me to +lower my standard of womanhood. It was another and less +worthy man—and this other was to be my companion through +time, and perhaps eternity. When I learned that your insane +wife was my sister, and that knowing this fact you yet planned +our flight, an indescribable feeling of repulsion awoke in my +heart.</p> +<p>“I confess that this arose more from a sentiment than a +principle. The relationship of your wife to me made the +contemplated sin no greater, but rendered it more tasteless.</p> +<p>“Had I gone away with you as I consented to do, the +world would have said, she but follows her fatal +inheritance—like mother like daughter. There were +some bitter rebellious hours, when that thought came to me. +But to-day light has shone upon me, and I know there is a law of +Divine Heredity which is greater and more powerful than any +tendency we derive from parents or grandparents. I have +believed much in creeds all my life; and in the hour of great +trials I found I was leaning on broken reeds. I have now +ceased to look to men or books for truth—I have found it in +my own soul. I acknowledge no unfortunate tendencies from +any earthly inheritance; centuries of sinful or weak ancestors +are as nothing beside the God within. The divine and +immortal <i>me</i> is older than my ancestral tree; it is as old +as the universe. It is as old as the first great Cause of +which it is a part. Strong with this consciousness, I am +prepared to meet the world alone, and unafraid from this day +onward. When I think of the optimistic temperament, the +good brain, and the vigorous body which were naturally mine, and +then of the wretched being who was my legitimate sister, I know +that I was rightly generated, however unfortunately born, just as +she was wrongly generated though legally born.</p> +<p>“My father, I am told, married into a family whose crest +is traced back to the tenth century. I carry a coat-of-arms +older yet—the Cross; it dates back eighteen hundred +years—yes, many thousand years, and so I feel myself the +nobler of the two. Had you been more of a disciple of +Christ, and less of a disciple of man, you would have realised +this truth long ago, as I realise it to-day. No man should +dare stand before his fellows as a revealer of divine knowledge +until he has penetrated the inmost recesses of his own soul, and +found God’s holy image there; and until he can show others +the way to the same wonderful discovery. The God you +worshipped was far away in the heavens, so far that he could not +come to you and save you from your baser self in the hour of +temptation. But the true God has been miraculously revealed +to me. He dwells within; one who has found Him, will never +debase His temple.</p> +<p>“Though there is no legal obstacle now in the path to +our union, there is a spiritual one which is +insurmountable. <i>I no longer love you</i>. I am +sorry for you, but that is all. You belonged to my +yesterday—you can have no part in my to-day. The man +who tempted me in my weak hour to go lower, could not help me to +go higher. And my face is set toward the heights.</p> +<p>“I must prove to that world that a child born under the +shadow of shame, and of two weak, uncontrolled parents, can be +virtuous, strong, brave and sensible. That she can conquer +passion and impulse, by the use of her divine inheritance of +will; and that she can compel the respect of the public by her +discreet life and lofty ideals.</p> +<p>“I shall stay in this place until I have vindicated my +name and character from every aspersion cast upon them. I +shall retain my position of organist, and retain it until I have +accumulated sufficient means to go abroad and prepare myself for +the musical career in which I know I can excel. I am young, +strong and ambitious. My unusual sorrows will give me +greater power of character if I accept them as spiritual +tonics—bitter but strengthening.</p> +<p>“Farewell, and may God be with you.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span class="smcap">Joy +Irving</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When the rector of St Blank’s returned from the +Beryngford Cemetery, where he had placed the body of his wife +beside her father, he found this letter lying on his table in the +hotel.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">THE END</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AMBITIOUS MAN***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 7866-h.htm or 7866-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/7/8/6/7866 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9d5239 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #7866 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7866) diff --git a/old/ammn10.txt b/old/ammn10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d138f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ammn10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4963 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Ambitious Man, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: An Ambitious Man + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7866] +[This file was first posted on May 28, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, AN AMBITIOUS MAN *** + + + + +Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + +AN AMBITIOUS MAN + + + + +CHAPTER I + + + +Preston Cheney turned as he ran down the steps of a handsome house on +"The Boulevard," waving a second adieu to a young woman framed +between the lace curtains of the window. Then he hurried down the +street and out of view. The young woman watched him with a gleam of +satisfaction in her pale blue eyes. A fine-looking young fellow, +whose Roman nose and strong jaw belied the softly curved mouth with +its sensitive darts at the corners; it was strange that something +warmer than satisfaction did not shine upon the face of the woman +whom he had just asked to be his wife. + +But Mabel Lawrence was one of those women who are never swayed by any +passion stronger than worldly ambition, never burned by any fires +other than those of jealousy or anger. Her meagre nature was truly +depicted in her meagre face. Nature is ofttimes a great lair and a +cruel jester, giving to the cold and vapid woman the face and form of +a sensuous siren, and concealing a heart of volcanic fires, or the +soul of a Phryne, under the exterior of a spinster. But the old dame +had been wholly frank in forming Miss Lawrence. The thin, flat chest +and narrow shoulders, the angular elbows and prominent shoulder- +blades, the sallow skin and sharp features, the deeply set, pale blue +eyes, and the lustreless, ashen hair, were all truthful exponents of +the unfurnished rooms in her vacant heart and soul places. + +Miss Lawrence turned from the window, and trailed her long silken +train across the rich carpet, seating herself before the open +fireplace. It was an appropriate time and situation for a maiden's +tender dreams; only a few hours had passed since the handsomest and +most brilliant young man in that thriving eastern town had asked her +to be his wife, and placed the kiss of betrothal upon her virgin +lips. Yet it was with a sense of triumph and relief, rather than +with tenderness and rapture, that the young woman meditated upon the +situation--triumph over other women who had shown a decided interest +in Mr Cheney, since his arrival in the place more than eighteen +months ago, and relief that the dreaded role of spinster was not to +be her part in life's drama. + +Miss Lawrence was twenty-six--one year older than her fiance; and she +had never received a proposal of marriage or listened to a word of +love in her life before. Let me transpose that phrase--she had never +before received a proposal of marriage, and had never in her life +listened to a word of love; for Preston had not spoken of love. She +knew that he did not love her. She knew that he had sought her hand +wholly from ambitious motives. She was the daughter of the Hon. +Sylvester Lawrence, lawyer, judge, state senator, and proposed +candidate for lieutenant-governor in the coming campaign. She was +the only heir to his large fortune. + +Preston Cheney was a penniless young man from the West. A self-made +youth, with an unusual brain and an overwhelming ambition, he had +risen from chore boy on a western farm to printer's apprentice in a +small town, thence to reporter, city editor, foreign correspondent, +and after two or three years of travel gained in this manner he had +come to Beryngford and bought out a struggling morning paper, which +was making a mad effort to keep alive, changed its political +tendencies, infused it with western activity and filled it with +cosmopolitan news, and now, after eighteen months, the young man +found himself coming abreast of his two long established rivals in +the editorial field. This success was but an incentive to his +overwhelming ambition for place, power and riches. He had seen just +enough of life and of the world to estimate these things at double +their value; and he was, beside, looking at life through the +magnifying glass of youth. The Creator intended us to gaze on +worldly possessions and selfish ambitions through the small end of +the lorgnette, but youth invariably inverts the glass. + +To the young editor, the brief years behind him seemed like a long +hard pull up a steep and rocky cliff. From the point to which he had +attained, the summit of his desires looked very far away, much +farther than the level from which he had arisen. To rise to that +summit single-handed and alone would require unremitting effort +through the very best years of his manhood. His brain, his strength, +his ability, his ambitions, what were they all in the strife after +place and power, compared to the money of some commonplace adversary? +Preston Cheney, the native-born American directly descended from a +Revolutionary soldier, would be handicapped in the race with some +Michael Murphy whose father had made a fortune in the saloon +business, or who had himself acquired a competency as a police +officer. + +America was not the same country which gave men like Benjamin +Franklin, Abraham Lincoln and Horace Greeley a chance to rise from +the lower ranks to the highest places before they reached middle +life. It was no longer a land where merit strove with merit, and the +prize fell to the most earnest and the most gifted. The tremendous +influx of foreign population since the war of the Rebellion and the +right of franchise given unreservedly to the illiterate and the +vicious rendered the ambitious American youth now a toy in the hands +of aliens, and position a thing to be bought at the price set by un- +American masses. + +Thoughts like these had more and more with each year filled the mind +of Preston Cheney, until, like the falling of stones and earth into a +river bed, they changed the naturally direct current of his impulses +into another channel. Why not further his life purpose by an +ambitious marriage? The first time the thought entered his mind he +had cast it out as something unclean and unworthy of his manhood. +Marriage was a holy estate, he said to himself, a sacrament to be +entered into with reverence, and sanctified by love. He must love +the woman who was to be the companion of his life, the mother of his +children. + +Then he looked about among his early friends who had married, as +nearly all the young men of the middle classes in America do marry, +for love, or what they believed to be love. There was Tom Somers--a +splendid lad, full of life, hope and ambition when he married Carrie +Towne, the prettiest girl in Vandalia. Well, what was he now, after +seven years? A broken-spirited man, with a sickly, complaining wife +and a brood of ill-clad children. Harry Walters, the most infatuated +lover he had ever seen, was divorced after five years of discordant +marriage. + +Charlie St Clair was flagrantly unfaithful to the girl he had pursued +three years with his ardent wooings before she yielded to his suit. +Certainly none of these love marriages were examples for him to +follow. And in the midst of these reveries and reflections, Preston +Cheney came to Beryngford, and met Sylvester Lawrence and his +daughter Mabel. He met also Berene Dumont. Had he not met the +latter woman he would not have succumbed--so soon at least--to the +temptation held out by the former to advance his ambitious aims. + +He would have hesitated, considered, and reconsidered, and without +doubt his better nature and his good taste would have prevailed. But +when fate threw Berene Dumont in his way, and circumstances brought +about his close associations with her for many months, there seemed +but one way of escape from the Scylla of his desires, and that was to +the Charybdis of a marriage with Miss Lawrence. + +Miss Lawrence was not aware of the part Berene Dumont had played in +her engagement, but she knew perfectly the part her father's +influence and wealth had played; but she was quite content with +affairs as they were, and it mattered little to her what had brought +them about. To be married, rather than to be loved, had been her +ambition since she left school; being incapable of loving, she was +incapable of appreciating the passion in any of its phases. It had +always seemed to her that a great deal of nonsense was written and +talked about love. She thought demonstrative people very vulgar, and +believed kissing a means of conveying germs of disease. + +But to be a married woman, with an establishment of her own, and a +husband to exhibit to her friends, was necessary to the maintenance +of her pride. + +When Miss Lawrence's mother, a nervous invalid, was informed of her +daughter's engagement, she burst into tears, as over a lamb offered +on the altar of sacrifice; and Judge Lawrence pressed a kiss on the +lobe of Mabel's left ear which she offered him, and told her she had +won a prize in the market. But as he sat alone over his cigar that +night, he sighed heavily, and said to himself, "Poor fellow, I wish +Mabel were not so much like her mother." + + + +CHAPTER II + + + +"Baroness Brown" was a distinctive figure in Beryngford. She came to +the place from foreign parts some three years before the arrival of +Preston Cheney, and brought servants, carriages and horses, and +established herself in a very handsome house which she rented for a +term of years. Her arrival in this quiet village town was of course +the sensation of the hour, or rather of the year. She was known as +Baroness Le Fevre--an American widow of a French baron. Large, +voluptuous, blonde, and handsome according to the popular idea of +beauty, distinctly amiable, affable and very charitable, she became +at once the fashion. + +Invitations to her house were eagerly sought after, and her +entertainments were described in column articles by the press. + +This state of things continued only six months, however. Then it +began to be whispered about that the Baroness was in arrears for her +rent. Several of her servants had gone away in a high state of +temper at the titled mistress who had failed to pay them a cent of +wages since they came to the country with her; and one day the +neighbours saw her fine carriage horses led away by the sheriff. + +A week later society was electrified by the announcement of the +marriage of Baroness Le Fevre to Mr Brown, a wealthy widower who +owned the best shoe store in Beryngford. + +Mr Brown owned ten children also, but the youngest was a boy of +sixteen, absent in college. The other nine were married and settled +in comfortable homes. + +Mr Brown died at the expiration of a year. This one year had taught +him more of womankind than he had learned in all his sixty and nine +years before; and, feeling that it is never too late to profit by +learning, Mr Brown discreetly made his will, leaving all his property +save the widow's "thirds" equally divided among his ten children. + +The Baroness made a futile effort to break the will, on the ground +that he was not of sound mind when it was drawn up; but the effort +cost her several hundred of her few thousand dollars and the +increased enmity of the ten Brown children, and availed her nothing. +An important part of the widow's third was the Brown mansion, a +large, commodious house built many years before, when the village was +but a country town. Everybody supposed the Baroness, as she was +still called, half in derision and half from the American love of +mouthing a title, would offer this house for sale, and depart for +fresh fields and pastures new. But the Baroness never did what she +was expected to do. + +Instead of offering her house for sale, she offered "Rooms to Let," +and turned the family mansion into a fashionable lodging-house. + +Its central location, and its adjacence to several restaurants and +boarding houses, rendered it a convenient place for business people +to lodge, and the handsome widow found no trouble in filling her +rooms with desirable and well-paying patrons. In a spirit of fun, +people began to speak of the old Brown mansion as "The Palace," and +in a short time the lodging-house was known by that name, just as its +mistress was known as "Baroness Brown." + +The Palace yielded the Baroness something like two hundred dollars a +month, and cost her only the wages and keeping of three servants; or +rather the wages of two and the keeping of three; for to Berene +Dumont, her maid and personal attendant, she paid no wages. + +The Baroness did not rise till noon, and she always breakfasted in +bed. Sometimes she remained in her room till mid-afternoon. Berene +served her breakfast and lunch, and looked after the servants to see +that the lodgers' rooms were all in order. These were the services +for which she was given a home. But in truth the young woman did +much more than this; she acted also as seamstress and milliner for +her mistress, and attended to the marketing and ran errands for her. +If ever a girl paid full price for her keeping, it was Berene, and +yet the Baroness spoke frequently of "giving the poor thing a home." + +It had all come about in this way. Pierre Dumont kept a second-hand +book store in Beryngford. He was French, and the national +characteristic of frugality had assumed the shape of avarice in his +nature. He was, too, a petty tyrant and a cruel husband and father +when under the influence of absinthe, a state in which he was usually +to be found. + +Berene was an only child, and her mother, whom she worshipped, said, +when dying, "Take care of your poor father, Berene. Do everything +you can to make him happy. Never desert him." + +Berene was fourteen at that time. She had never been at school, but +she had been taught to read and write both French and English, for +her mother was an American girl who had been disinherited by her +grandparents, with whom she lived, for eloping with her French +teacher--Pierre Dumont. Rheumatism and absinthe turned the French +professor into a shopkeeper before Berene was born. The grandparents +had died without forgiving their granddaughter, and, much as the +unhappy woman regretted her foolish marriage, she remained a patient +and devoted wife to the end of her life, and imposed the same +patience and devotion when dying on her daughter. + +At sixteen, Berene was asked to sacrifice herself on the altar of +marriage to a man three times her age; one Jacques Letellier, who +offered generously to take the young girl as payment for a debt owed +by his convivial comrade, M. Dumont. Berene wept and begged +piteously to be spared this horrible sacrifice of her young life, +whereupon Pierre Dumont seized his razor and threatened suicide as +the other alternative from the dishonour of debt, and Berene in +terror yielded her word and herself the next day to the debasing +mockery of marriage with a depraved old gambler and roue. + +Six months later Jacques Letellier died in a fit of apoplexy and +Berene was freed from her chains; but freed only to keep on in a life +of martyrdom as servant and slave to the caprices of her father, +until his death. When he was finally well buried under six feet of +earth, Berene found herself twenty years of age, alone in the world +with just one thousand dollars in money, the price brought by her +father's effects. + +Without education or accomplishments, she was the possessor of youth, +health, charm, and a voice of wonderful beauty and power; a voice +which it was her dream to cultivate, and use as a means of support. +But how could she ever cultivate it? The thousand dollars in her +possession was, she knew, but a drop in the ocean of expense a +musical education would entail. And she must keep that money until +she found some way by which to support herself. + +Baroness Brown had attended the sale of old Dumont's effects. She +had often noticed the young girl in the shop, and in the street, and +had been struck with the peculiar elegance and refinement of her +appearance. Her simple lawn or print gowns were made and worn in a +manner befitting a princess. Her nails were carefully kept, despite +all the household drudgery which devolved upon her. + +The Baroness was a shrewd woman and a clever reasoner. She needed a +thrifty, prudent person in her house to look after things, and to +attend to her personal needs. Since she had opened the Palace as a +lodging-house, this need had stared her in the face. Servants did +very well in their places, but the person she required was of another +and superior order, and only to be obtained by accident or by +advertising and the paying of a large salary. Now the Baroness had +been in the habit of thinking that her beauty and amiability were +quite equivalent to any favours she received from humanity at large. +Ever since she was a plump girl in short dresses, she had learned +that smiles and compliments from her lips would purchase her friends +of both sexes, who would do disagreeable duties for her. She had +never made it a custom to pay out money for any service she could +obtain otherwise. So now as she looked on this young woman who, +though a widow, seemed still a mere child, it occurred to her that +Fate had with its usual kindness thrown in her path the very person +she needed. + +She offered Berene "a home" at the Palace in return for a few small +services. The lonely girl, whose strangely solitary life with her +old father had excluded her from all social relations outside, +grasped at this offer from the handsome lady whom she had long +admired from a distance, and went to make her home at the Palace. + + + +CHAPTER III + + + +Berene had been several months in her new home when Preston Cheney +came to lodge at the Palace. + +He met her on the stairway the first morning after his arrival, as he +was descending to the street door. + +Bringing up a tray covered with a snowy napkin, she stepped to one +side and paused, to make room for him to pass. + +Preston was not one of those young men who find pastime in +flirtations with nursery maids or kitchen girls. The very thought of +it offended his good taste. Once, in listening to the boastful tales +of a modern Don Juan, who was relating his gallant adventures with a +handsome waiter girl at a hotel, Preston had remarked, "I would as +soon think of using my dinner napkin for a necktie, as finding +romance with a servant girl." + +Yet he appreciated a snowy, well-laundried napkin in its place, and +he was most considerate and thoughtful in his treatment of servants. + +He supposed Berene to be an upper servant of the house, and yet, as +he glanced at her, a strange and unaccountable feeling of interest +seized upon him. The creamy pallor of her skin, colourless save for +the full red lips, the dark eyes full of unutterable longing, the +aristocratic poise of the head, the softly rounded figure, elegant in +its simple gown and apron, all impressed him as he had never before +been impressed by any woman. + +It was several days before he chanced to see her again, and then only +for a moment as she passed through the hall; but he heard a trill of +song from her lips, which added to his interest and curiosity. "That +girl is no common servant," he said to himself, and he resolved to +learn more about her. + +It had been the custom of the Baroness to keep herself quite hidden +from her lodgers. They seldom saw her, after the first business +interview. Therefore it was a matter of surprise to the young editor +when he came home from his office one night, just after twelve +o'clock, and found the mistress of the mansion standing in the hall +by the register, in charming evening attire. + +She smiled upon him radiantly. "I have just come in from a benefit +concert," she said, "and I am as hungry as a bear. Now I cannot +endure eating alone at night. I knew it was near your hour to +return, so I waited for you. Will you go down to the dining-room +with me and have a Welsh rarebit? I am going to make one in my +chafing dish." + +The young man hid his surprise under a gallant smile, and offering +the Baroness his arm descended to the basement dining-room with her. +He had heard much about the complicated life of this woman, and he +felt a certain amount of natural curiosity in regard to her. He had +met her but once, and that was on the day when he had called to +engage his room, a little more than two weeks past. + +He had thought her an excellent type of the successful American +adventuress on that occasion, and her quiet and dull life in this +ordinary town puzzled him. He could not imagine a woman of that +order existing a whole year without an adventure; as a rule he knew +that those blonde women with large hips and busts, and small waists +and feet, are as unable to live without excitement as a fish without +water. + +Yet, since the death of Mr Brown, more than a year past, the Baroness +had lived the life of a recluse. It puzzled him, as a student of +human nature. + +But, in fact, the Baroness was a skilled general in planning her +campaigns. She seldom plunged into action unprepared. + +She knew from experience that she could not live in a large city and +not use an enormous amount of money. + +She was tired of taking great risks, and she knew that without the +aid of money and a fine wardrobe she was not able to attract men as +she had done ten years before. + +As long as she remained in Beryngford she would be adding to her +income every month, and saving the few thousands she possessed. She +would be saving her beauty, too, by keeping early hours and living a +temperate life; and if she carefully avoided any new scandal, her +past adventures would be dim in the minds of people when, after a +year or two more of retirement and retrenchment, she sallied forth to +new fields, under a new name, if need be, and with a comfortably +filled purse. + +It was in this manner that the Baroness had reasoned; but from the +hour she first saw Preston Cheney, her resolutions wavered. He +impressed her most agreeably; and after learning about him from the +daily papers, and hearing him spoken of as a valuable acquisition to +Beryngford's intellectual society, the Baroness decided to come out +of her retirement and enter the lists in advance of other women who +would seek to attract this newcomer. + +To the fading beauty in her late thirties, a man in the early +twenties possesses a peculiar fascination; and to the Baroness, +clothed in weeds for a husband who died on the eve of his seventieth +birthday, the possibility of winning a young man like Preston Cheney +overbalanced all other considerations in her mind. She had never +been a vulgar coquette to whom all men were prey. She had always +been more or less discriminating. A man must be either very +attractive or very rich to win her regard. Mr Brown had been very +rich, and Preston Cheney was very attractive. + +"He is more than attractive, he is positively FASCINATING," she said +to herself in the solitude of her room after the tete-a-tete over the +Welsh rarebit that evening. "I don't know when I have felt such a +pleasure in a man's presence. Not since--" But the Baroness did not +allow herself to go back so far. "If there is any fruit I DETEST, it +is DATES," she often said laughingly. "Some people delight in a good +memory--I delight in a good forgettory of the past, with its telltale +milestones of birthdays and anniversaries of marriages, deaths and +divorces." + +"Mr Cheney said I looked very young to have been twice married. +Twice!" and she laughed aloud before her mirror, revealing the pink +arch of her mouth, and two perfect sets of yellow-white teeth, with +only one blemishing spot of gold visible. "I wonder if he meant it, +though?" she mused. "And the fact that I DO wonder is the sure proof +that I am really interested in this man. As a rule, I never believe +a word men say, though I delight in their flattery all the same. It +makes me feel comfortable even when I know they are lying. But I +should really feel hurt if I thought Mr Cheney had not meant what he +said. I don't believe he knows much about women, or about himself +lower than his brain. He has never studied his heart. He is all +ambition. If an ambitious and unsophisticated youth of twenty-five +or twenty-eight does get infatuated with a woman of my age--he is a +perfect toy in her hands. Ah, well, we shall see what we shall see." +And the Baroness finished her massage in cold cream, and put her +blonde head on the pillow and went sound asleep. + +After that first tete-a-tete supper the fair widow managed to see +Preston at least once or twice a week. She sent for him to ask his +advice on business matters, she asked him to aid her in changing the +position of the furniture in a room when the servants were all busy, +and she invited him to her private parlour for lunch every Sunday +afternoon. It was during one of these chats over cake and wine that +the young man spoke of Berene. The Baroness had dropped some remarks +about her servants, and Preston said, in a casual tone of voice which +hid the real interest he felt in the subject, "By the way, one of +your servants has quite an unusual voice. I have heard her singing +about the halls a few times, and it seems to me she has real talent." + +"Oh, that is Miss Dumont--Berene Dumont--she is not an absolute +servant," the Baroness replied; "she is a most unfortunate young +woman to whom my heart went out in pity, and I have given her a home. +She is really a widow, though she refuses to use her dead husband's +name." + +"A widow?" repeated Preston with surprise and a queer sensation of +annoyance at his heart; "why, from the glimpse I had of her I thought +her a young girl." + +"So she is, not over twenty-one at most, and woefully ignorant for +that age," the Baroness said, and then she proceeded to outline +Berene's history, laying a good deal of stress upon her own +charitable act in giving the girl a home. + +"She is so ignorant of life, despite the fact that she has been +married, and she is so uneducated and helpless, I could not bear to +see her cast into the path of designing people," the Baroness said. +"She has a strong craving for an education, and I give her good books +to read, and good advice to ponder over, and I hope in time to come +she will marry some honest fellow and settle down to a quiet, happy +home life. The man who brings us butter and eggs from the country is +quite fascinated with her, but she does not deign him a glance." And +then the Baroness talked of other things. + +But the history he had heard remained in Preston Cheney's mind and he +could not drive the thought of this girl away. No wonder her eyes +were sad! Better blood ran in her veins than coursed under the pink +flesh of the Baroness, he would wager; she was the unfortunate victim +of a combination of circumstances, which had defrauded her of the +advantages of youth. + +He spoke with her in the hall one morning not long after that; and +then it grew to be a daily occurrence that he talked with her a few +moments, and before many weeks had passed the young man approached +the Baroness with a request. + +"I have become interested in your protegee Miss Dumont," he said. +"You have done so much for her that you have stirred my better nature +and made me anxious to emulate your example. In talking with her in +the hall one day I learned her great desire for a better education, +and her anxiety to earn money. Now it has occurred to me that I +might aid her in both ways. We need two or three more girls in our +office. We need one more in the type-setting department. As The +Clarion is a morning paper, and you never need Miss Dumont's services +after five o'clock, she could work a few hours in the office, earn a +small salary, and gain something in the way of an education also, if +she were ambitious enough to do so. Nearly all my early education +was gained as a printer. She tells me she is faulty in the matter of +spelling, and this would be excellent training for her. You have, +dear madam, inspired the girl with a desire for more knowledge, and I +hope you will let me carry on the good work you have begun." + +Preston had approached the matter in a way that could not fail to +bring success--by flattering the vanity and pride of the Baroness. +So elated was she with the agreeable references to herself, that she +never suspected the young man's deep personal interest in the girl. +She believed in the beginning that he was showing Berene this kind +attention solely to please the mistress. + +Berene entered the office as type-setter, and made such astonishing +progress that she was promoted to the position of proof-reader ere +six months had passed. And hour by hour, day by day, week by week, +the strange influence which she had exerted on her employer, from the +first moment of their meeting, grew and strengthened, until he +realised with a sudden terror that his whole being was becoming +absorbed by an intense passion for the girl. + +Meantime the Baroness was growing embarrassing in her attentions. +The young man was not conceited, nor prone to regard himself as an +object of worship to the fair sex. He had during the first few +months believed the Baroness to be amusing herself with his society. +He had not flattered himself that a woman of her age, who had seen so +much of the world, and whose ambitions were so unmistakable, could +regard him otherwise than as a diversion. + +But of late the truth had forced itself upon him that the woman +wished to entangle him in a serious affair. He could not afford to +jeopardise his reputation at the very outset of his career by any +such entanglement, or by the appearance of one. He cast about for +some excuse to leave the Palace, yet this would separate him in a +measure from his association with Berene, beside incurring the enmity +of the Baroness, and possibly causing Berene to suffer from her anger +as well. + +He seemed to be caught like a fly in a net. And again the thought of +his future and his ambitions confronted him, and he felt abashed in +his own eyes, as he realised how far away these ambitions had seemed +of late, since he had allowed his emotions to overrule his brain. + +What was this ignorant daughter of a French professor, that she +should stand between him and glory, riches and power? Desperate +diseases needed desperate remedies. He had been an occasional caller +at the Lawrence homestead ever since he came to Beryngford. Without +being conceited on the subject, he realised that Mabel Lawrence would +not reject him as a suitor. + +The masculine party is very dull, or the feminine very deceptive, +when a man makes a mistake in his impressions on this subject. + +That afternoon the young editor left his office at five o'clock and +asked Miss Lawrence to be his wife. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + + +Preston Cheney walked briskly down the street after he left his +fiancee, his steps directed toward the Palace. It was seven o'clock, +and he knew the Baroness would be at home. + +He had determined upon heroic treatment for his own mental disease +(as he regarded his peculiar sentiments toward Berene Dumont), and he +had decided upon a similar course of treatment for the Baroness. + +He would confide his engagement to her at once, and thus put an end +to his embarrassing position in the Palace, as well as to establish +his betrothal as a fact--and to force himself to so regard it. It +was strange reasoning for a young man in the very first hour of his +new role of bridegroom elect, but this particular groom elect had +deliberately placed himself in a peculiar position, and his reasoning +was not, of course, that of an ardent and happy lover. + +Already he was galled by his new fetters; already he was feeling a +sense of repulsion toward the woman he had asked to be his wife: and +because of these feelings he was more eager to nail himself hand and +foot to the cross he had builded. + +He was obliged to wait some time before the Baroness came into the +reception-room; and when she came he observed that she had made an +elaborate toilet in his honour. Her sumptuous shoulders billowed +over the low-cut blue corsage like apple-dumplings over a china dish. +Her waist was drawn in to an hourglass taper, while her ample hips +spread out beneath like the heavy mason work which supports a slender +column. Tiny feet encased in pretty slippers peeping from beneath +her silken skirts looked oddly out of proportion with the rest of her +generous personality, and reminded Preston of the grotesque cuts in +the humorous weeklies, where well-known politicians were represented +with large heads and small extremities. Artistic by nature, and with +an eye to form, he had never admired the Baroness's type of beauty, +which was the theme of admiration for nearly every other man in +Beryngford. Her face, with its infantine colouring, its large, +innocent azure eyes, and its short retrousse features, he conceded to +be captivatingly pretty, however, and it seemed unusually so this +evening. Perhaps because he had so recently looked upon the sharp, +sallow face of his fiancee. + +Preston frequently came to his room about this hour, after having +dined and before going to the office for his final duties; but he +seldom saw the Baroness on these occasions, unless through her own +design. + +"You were surprised to receive my message, no doubt, saying I wished +to see you," he began. "But I have something I feel I ought to tell +you, as it may make some changes in my habits, and will of course +eventually take me away from these pleasant associations." He paused +for a second, and the Baroness, who had seated herself on the divan +at his side, leaned forward and looked inquiringly in his face. + +"You are going away?" she asked, with a tremor in her voice. "Is it +not very sudden?" + +"No, I am not going away," he replied, "not from Beryngford--but I +shall doubtless leave your house ere many months. I am engaged to be +married to Miss Mabel Lawrence. You are the first person to whom I +have imparted the news, but you have been so kind, and I feel that +you ought to know it in time to secure a desirable tenant for my +room." + +Again there was a pause. The rosy face of the Baroness had grown +quite pale, and an unpleasant expression had settled about the +corners of her small mouth. She waved a feather fan to and fro +languidly. Then she gave a slight laugh and said: + +"Well, I must confess that I am surprised. Miss Lawrence is the last +woman in the world whom I would have imagined you to select as a +wife. Yet I congratulate you on your good sense. You are very +ambitious, and you can rise to great distinction if you have the +right influence to aid you. Judge Lawrence, with his wealth and +position, is of all men the one who can advance your interests, and +what more natural than that he should advance the interests of his +son-in-law? You are a very wise youth and I again congratulate you. +No romantic folly will ever ruin your life." + +There was irony and ridicule in her voice and face, and the young man +felt his cheek tingle with anger and humiliation. The Baroness had +read him like an open book--as everyone else doubtless would do. It +was bitterly galling to his pride, but there was nothing to do, save +to keep a bold front, and carry out his role with as much dignity as +possible. + +He rose, spoke a few formal words of thanks to the Baroness for her +kindness to him, and bowed himself from her presence, carrying with +him down the street the memory of her mocking eyes. + +As he entered his private office, he was amazed to see Berene Dumont +sitting in his chair fast asleep, her head framed by her folded arms, +which rested on his desk. Against the dark maroon of her sleeve, her +classic face was outlined like a marble statuette. Her long lashes +swept her cheek, and in the attitude in which she sat, her graceful, +perfectly-proportioned figure displayed each beautiful curve to the +best advantage. + +To a noble nature, the sight of even an enemy asleep, awakes +softening emotions, while the sight of a loved being in the +unconsciousness of slumber stirs the fountain of affection to its +very depths. + +As the young editor looked upon the girl before him, a passion of +yearning love took possession of him. A wild desire to seize her in +his arms and cover her pale face with kisses, made his heart throb to +suffocation and brought cold beads to his brow; and just as these +feelings gained an almost uncontrollable dominion over his reason, +will and judgment, the girl awoke and started to her feet in +confusion. + +"Oh, Mr Cheney, pray forgive me!" she cried, looking more beautiful +than ever with the flush which overspread her face. "I came in to +ask about a word in your editorial which I could not decipher. I +waited for you, as I felt sure you would be in shortly--and I was so +TIRED I sat down for just a second to rest--and that is all I knew +about it. You must forgive me, sir!--I did not mean to intrude." + +Her confusion, her appealing eyes, her magnetic voice were all fuel +to the fire raging in the young man's heart. Now that she was for +ever lost to him through his own deliberate action, she seemed +tenfold more dear and to be desired. Brain, soul, and body all +seemed to crave her; he took a step forward, and drew in a quick +breath as if to speak; and then a sudden sense of his own danger, and +an overwhelming disgust for his weakness swept over him, and the +intense passion the girl had aroused in his heart changed to +unreasonable anger. + +"Miss Dumont," he said coldly, "I think we will have to dispense with +your services after to-night. Your duties are evidently too hard for +you. You can leave the office at any time you wish. Good-night." + +The girl shrank as if he had struck her, looked up at him with wide, +wondering eyes, waited for a moment as if expecting to be recalled, +then, as Mr Cheney wheeled his chair about and turned his back upon +her, she suddenly sped away without a word. + +She left the office a few moments later; but it was not until after +eleven o'clock that she dragged herself up two flights of stairs +toward her room on the attic floor at the Palace. She had been +walking the streets like a mad creature all that intervening time, +trying to still the agonising pain in her heart. Preston Cheney had +long been her ideal of all that was noble, grand and good, she +worshipped him as devout pagans worshipped their sacred idols; and, +without knowing it, she gave him the absorbing passion which an +intense woman gives to her lover. + +It was only now that he had treated her with such rough brutality, +and discharged her from his employ for so slight a cause, that the +knowledge burst upon her tortured heart of all he was to her. + +She paused at the foot of the third and last flight of stairs with a +strange dizziness in her head and a sinking sensation at her heart. + +A little less than half-an-hour afterwards Preston Cheney unlocked +the street door and came in for the night. He had done double his +usual amount of work and had finished his duties earlier than usual. +To avoid thinking after he sent Berene away, he had turned to his +desk and plunged into his labour with feverish intensity. He wrote a +particularly savage editorial on the matter of over-immigration, and +his leaders on political questions of the day were all tinctured with +a bitterness and sarcasm quite new to his pen. At midnight that pen +dropped from his nerveless hand, and he made his way toward the +Palace in a most unenviable state of mind and body. + +Yet he believed he had done the right thing both in engaging himself +to Miss Lawrence and in discharging Berene. Her constant presence +about the office was of all things the most undesirable in his new +position. + +"But I might have done it in a decent manner if I had not lost all +control of myself," he said as he walked home. "It was brutal the +way I spoke to her; poor child, she looked as if I had beat her with +a bludgeon. Well, it is just as well perhaps that I gave her good +reason to despise me." + +Since Berene had gone into the young man's office as an employe her +good taste and another reason had caused her to avoid him as much as +possible in the house. He seldom saw more than a passing glimpse of +her in the halls, and frequently whole days elapsed that he met her +only in the office. The young man never suspected that this fact was +due in great part to the suggestion of jealousy in the manner of the +Baroness toward the young girl ever after he had shown so much +interest in her welfare. Sensitive to the mental atmosphere about +her, as a wind harp to the lightest breeze, Berene felt this +unexpressed sentiment in the breast of her "benefactress" and strove +to avoid anything which could aggravate it. + +With a lagging step and a listless air, Preston made his way up the +first of two flights of stairs which intervened between the street +door and his room. The first floor was in darkness; but in the upper +hall a dim light was always left burning until his return. As he +reached the landing, he was startled to see a woman's form lying at +the foot of the attic stairs, but a few feet from the door of his +room. Stooping down, he uttered a sudden exclamation of pained +surprise, for it was upon the pallid, unconscious face of Berene +Dumont that his eyes fell. He lifted the lithe figure in his sinewy +arms, and with light, rapid steps bore her up the stairs and in +through the open door of her room. + +"If she is dead, I am her murderer," he thought. But at that moment +she opened her eyes and looked full into his, with a gaze which made +his impetuous, uncontrolled heart forget that any one or anything +existed on earth but this girl and his love for her. + + + +CHAPTER V + + + +One of the greatest factors in the preservation of the Baroness's +beauty had been her ability to sleep under all conditions. The woman +who can and does sleep eight or nine hours out of each twenty-four is +well armed against the onslaught of time and trouble. + +To say that such women do not possess heart enough or feeling enough +to suffer is ofttimes most untrue. + +Insomnia is a disease of the nerves or of the stomach, rather than +the result of extreme emotion. Sometimes the people who sleep the +most profoundly at night in times of sorrow, suffer the more +intensely during their waking hours. Disguised as a friend, +deceitful Slumber comes to them only to strengthen their powers of +suffering, and to lend a new edge to pain. + +The Baroness was not without feeling. Her temperament was far from +phlegmatic. She had experienced great cyclones of grief and loss in +her varied career, though many years had elapsed since she had known +what the French call a "white night." + +But the night following her interview with Preston Cheney she never +closed her eyes in sleep. It was in vain that she tried all known +recipes for producing slumber. She said the alphabet backward ten +times; she counted one thousand; she conjured up visions of sheep +jumping the time-honoured fence in battalions, yet the sleep god +never once drew near. + +"I am certainly a brilliant illustration of the saying that there is +no fool like an old fool," she said to herself as the night wore on, +and the strange sensation of pain and loss which Preston Cheney's +unexpected announcement had caused her gnawed at her breast like a +rat in a wainscot. + +That she had been unusually interested in the young editor she knew +from the first; that she had been mortally wounded by Cupid's shaft +she only now discovered. She had passed through a divorce, two +"affairs" and a legitimate widowhood, without feeling any of the keen +emotions which now drove sleep from her eyes. A long time ago, +longer than she cared to remember, she had experienced such emotions, +but she had supposed such folly only possible in the high tide of +early youth. It was absurd, nay more, it was ridiculous to lie awake +at her time of life thinking about a penniless country youth whose +mother she might almost have been. In this bitterly frank fashion +the Baroness reasoned with herself as she lay quite still in her +luxurious bed, and tried to sleep. + +Yet despite her frankness, her philosophy and her reasoning, the +rasping hurt at her heart remained--a hurt so cruel it seemed to her +the end of all peace or pleasure in life. + +It is harder to bear the suffocating heat of a late September day +which the year sometimes brings, than all the burning June suns. + +The Baroness heard the click of Preston's key in the street door, and +she listened to his slow step as he ascended the stairs. She heard +him pause, too, and waited for the sound of the opening of his room +door, which was situated exactly above her own. But she listened in +vain, her ears, brain and heart on the alert with surprise, +curiosity, and at last suspicion. The Baroness was as full of +curiosity as a cat. + +It was not until just before dawn that she heard his step in the +hall, and his door open and close. + +An hour later a sharp ring came at the street door bell. A message +for Mr Preston, the servant said, in answer to her mistress's +question as she descended from the room above. + +"Was Mr Preston awake when you rapped on his door?" asked the +Baroness. + +"Yes, madame, awake and dressed." + +Mr Preston ran hurriedly through the halls and out to the street a +moment later; and the Baroness, clothed in a dressing-gown and silken +slippers, tiptoed lightly to his room. The bed had not been occupied +the whole night. On the table lay a note which the young man had +begun when interrupted by the message which he had thrown down beside +it. + +The Baroness glanced at the note, on which the ink was still moist, +and read, "My dear Miss Lawrence, I want you to release me from the +ties formed only yesterday--I am basely unworthy--" here the note +ended. She now turned her attention to the message which had +prevented the completion of the letter. It was signed by Judge +Lawrence and ran as follows:- + + +"My Dear Boy,--My wife was taken mortally ill this morning just +before daybreak. She cannot live many hours, our physician says. +Mabel is in a state of complete nervous prostration caused by the +shock of this calamity. I wish you would come to us at once. I fear +for my dear child's reason unless you prove able to calm and quiet +her through this ordeal. Hasten then, my dear son; every moment +before you arrive will seem an age of sorrow and anxiety to me. "S. +LAWRENCE." + + +A strange smile curved the corners of the Baroness's lips as she +finished reading this note and tiptoed down the stairs to her own +room again. + +Meantime the hour for her hot water arrived, and Berene did not +appear. The Baroness drank a quart of hot water every morning as a +tonic for her system, and another quart after breakfast to reduce her +flesh. Her excellent digestive powers and the clear condition of her +blood she attributed largely to this habit. + +After a few moments she rang the bell vigorously. Maggie, the +chambermaid, came in answer to the call. + +"Please ask Miss Dumont" (Berene was always known to the other +servants as Miss Dumont) "to hurry with the hot water," the Baroness +said. + +"Miss Dumont has not yet come downstairs, madame." + +"Not come down? Then will you please call her, Maggie?" + +The Baroness was always polite to her servants. She had observed +that a graciousness of speech toward her servants often made up for a +deficiency in wages. Maggie ascended to Miss Dumont's room, and +returned with the information that Miss Dumont had a severe headache, +and begged the indulgence of madame this morning. + +Again that strange smile curved the corners of the Baroness's lips. + +Maggie was requested to bring up hot water and coffee, and great was +her surprise to find the Baroness moving about the room when she +appeared with the tray. + +Half-an-hour later Berene Dumont, standing by an open window with her +hands clasped behind her head, heard a light tap on her door. In +answer to a mechanical "Come," the Baroness appeared. + +The rustle of her silken morning gown caused Berene to turn suddenly +and face her; and as she met the eyes of her visitor the young +woman's pallor gave place to a wave of deep crimson, which dyed her +face and neck like the shadow of a red flag falling on a camellia +blossom. + +"Maggie tells me you are ill this morning," the Baroness remarked +after a moment's silence. "I am surprised to find you up and +dressed. I came to see if I could do anything for you." + +"You are very kind," Berene answered, while in her heart she thought +how cruel was the expression in the face of the woman before her, and +how faded she appeared in the morning light. "But I think I shall be +quite well in a little while, I only need to keep quiet for a few +hours." + +"I fear you passed a sleepless night," the Baroness remarked with a +solicitous tone, but with the same cruel smile upon her lips. "I see +you never opened your bed. Something must have been in the air to +keep us all awake. I did not sleep an hour, and Mr Cheney never +entered his room till near morning. Yet I can understand his +wakefulness--he announced his engagement to Miss Mabel Lawrence to me +last evening, and a young man is not expected to woo sleep easily +after taking such an important step as that. Judge Lawrence sent for +him a few hours ago to come and support Miss Mabel during the trial +that the day is to bring them in the death of Mrs Lawrence. The +physician has predicted the poor invalid's near end. Sorrow follows +close on joy in this life." + +There was a moment's silence; then Miss Dumont said: "I think I will +try to get a little sleep now, madame. I thank you for your kind +interest in me." + +The Baroness descended to her room humming an air from an old opera, +and settled to the task of removing as much as possible all evidences +of fatigue and sleeplessness from her countenance. + +It has been said very prettily of the spruce-tree, that it keeps the +secret of its greenness well; so well that we hardly know when it +sheds its leaves. There are women who resemble the spruce in their +perennial youth, and the vigilance with which they guard the secret +of it. The Baroness was one of these. Only her mirror shared this +secret. + +She was an adept at the art of preservation, and greatly as she +disliked physical exertion, she toiled laboriously over her own +person an hour at least every day, and never employed a maid to +assist her. One's rival might buy one's maid, she reasoned, and it +was well to have no confidant in these matters. + +She slipped off her dressing-gown and corset and set herself to the +task of pinching and mauling her throat, arms and shoulders, to +remove superfluous flesh, and strengthen muscles and fibres to resist +the flabby tendencies which time produces. Then she used the dumb- +bells vigorously for fifteen minutes, and that was followed by five +minutes of relaxation. Next she lay on the floor flat upon her face, +her arms across her back, and lifted her head and chest twenty-five +times. This exercise was to replace flesh with muscle across the +abdomen. Then she rose to her feet, set her small heels together, +turned her toes out squarely, and, keeping her body upright bent her +knees out in a line with her hips, sinking and rising rapidly fifteen +times. This produced pliancy of the body, and induced a healthy +condition of the loins and adjacent organs. + +To further fight against the deadly enemy of obesity, she lifted her +arms above her head slowly until she touched her finger tips, at the +same time rising upon her tiptoes, while she inhaled a long breath, +and as slowly dropped to her heels, and lowered her arms while she +exhaled her breath. While these exercises had been taking place, a +tin cup of water had been coming to the boiling point over an alcohol +lamp. This was now poured into a china bowl containing a small +quantity of sweet milk, which was always brought on her breakfast +tray. + +The Baroness seated herself before her mirror, in a glare of cruel +light which revealed every blemish in her complexion, every line +about the mouth and eyes. + +"You are really hideously passee, mon amie," she observed as she +peered at herself searchingly; "but we will remedy all that." + +Dipping a soft linen handkerchief in the bowl of steaming milk and +water, she applied it to her face, holding it closely over the brow +and eyes and about the mouth, until every pore was saturated and +every weary drawn tissue fed and strengthened by the tonic. After +this she dashed ice-cold water over her face. Still there were +little folds at the corners of the eyelids, and an ugly line across +the brow, and these were manipulated with painstaking care, and +treated with mysterious oils and fragrant astringents and finally +washed in cool toilet water and lightly brushed with powder, until at +the end of an hour's labour, the face of the Baroness had resumed its +roseleaf bloom and transparent smoothness for which she was so +famous. And when by the closest inspection at the mirror, in the +broadest light, she saw no flaw in skin, hair, or teeth, the Baroness +proceeded to dress for a drive. Even the most jealous rival would +have been obliged to concede that she looked like a woman of twenty- +eight, that most fascinating of all ages, as she took her seat in the +carriage. + +In the early days of her life in Beryngford, when as the Baroness Le +Fevre she had led society in the little town, Mrs Lawrence had been +one of her most devoted friends; Judge Lawrence one of her most +earnest, if silent admirers. As "Baroness Brown" and as the landlady +of "The Palace" she had still maintained her position as friend of +the family, and the Lawrences, secure in their wealth and power, had +allowed her to do so, where some of the lower social lights had +dropped her from their visiting lists. + +The Baroness seemed to exercise a sort of hypnotic power over the +fretful, nervous invalid who shared Judge Lawrence's name, and this +influence was not wholly lost upon the Judge himself, who never +looked upon the Baroness's abundant charms, glowing with health, +without giving vent to a profound sigh like some hungry child +standing before a confectioner's window. + +The news of Mrs Lawrence's dangerous illness was voiced about the +town by noon, and therefore the Baroness felt safe in calling at the +door to make inquiries, and to offer any assistance which she might +be able to render. Knowing her intimate relations with the mistress +of the house, the servant admitted her to the parlour and announced +her presence to Judge Lawrence, who left the bedside of the invalid +to tell the caller in person that Mrs Lawrence had fallen into a +peaceful slumber, and that slight hopes were entertained of her +possible recovery. Scarcely had the words passed his lips, however, +when the nurse in attendance hurriedly called him. "Mrs Lawrence is +dead!" she cried. "She breathed only twice after you left the room." + +The Baroness, shocked and startled, rose to go, feeling that her +presence longer would be an intrusion. + +"Do not go," cried the Judge in tones of distress. "Mabel is nearly +distracted, and this news will excite her still further. We thought +this morning that she was on the verge of serious mental disorder. I +sent for her fiance, Mr Cheney, and he has calmed her somewhat. You +always exerted a soothing and restful influence over my wife, and you +may have the same power with Mabel. Stay with us, I beg of you, +through the afternoon at least." + +The Baroness sent her carriage home and remained in the Lawrence +mansion until the following morning. The condition of Miss Lawrence +was indeed serious. She passed from one attack of hysteria to +another, and it required the constant attention of her fiance and her +mother's friend to keep her from acts of violence. + +It was after midnight when she at last fell asleep, and Preston +Cheney in a state of complete exhaustion was shown to a room, while +the Baroness remained at the bedside of Miss Lawrence. + +When the Baroness and Mr Cheney returned to the Palace they were +struck with consternation to learn that Miss Dumont had packed her +trunk and departed from Beryngford on the three o'clock train the +previous day. + +A brief note thanking the Baroness for her kindness, and stating that +she had imposed upon that kindness quite too long, was her only +farewell. There was no allusion to her plans or her destination, and +all inquiry and secret search failed to find one trace of her. She +seemed to vanish like a phantom from the face of the earth. + +No one had seen her leave the Palace, save the laundress, Mrs Connor; +and little this humble personage dreamed that Fate was reserving for +her an important role in the drama of a life as yet unborn. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + + +Whatever hope of escape from his self-imposed bondage Preston Cheney +had entertained when he began the note to his fiancee which the +Baroness had read, completely vanished during the weeks which +followed the death of Mrs Lawrence. + +Mabel's nervous condition was alarming, and her father seemed to rely +wholly upon his future son-in-law for courage and moral support +during the trying ordeal. Like most large men of strong physique, +Judge Lawrence was as helpless as an infant in the presence of an +ailing woman; and his experience as the husband of a wife whose +nerves were the only notable thing about her, had given him an +absolute terror of feminine invalids. + +Mabel had never been very fond of her mother; she had not been a +loving or a dutiful daughter. A petulant child and an irritable, +fault-finding young woman, who had often been devoid of sympathy for +her parents, she now exhibited such an excess of grief over the death +of her mother that her reason seemed to be threatened. + +It was, in fact, quite as much anger as grief which caused her +nervous paroxysms. Mabel Lawrence had never since her infancy known +what it was to be thwarted in a wish. Both parents had been slaves +to her slightest caprice and she had ruled the household with a look +or a word. Death had suddenly deprived her of a mother who was +necessary to her comfort and to whose presence she was accustomed, +and her heart was full of angry resentment at the fate which had +dared to take away a member of her household. It had never entered +her thoughts that death could devastate HER home. + +Other people lost fathers and mothers, of course; but that Mabel +Lawrence could be deprived of a parent seemed incredible. Anger is a +strong ingredient in the excessive grief of every selfish nature. + +Preston Cheney became more and more disheartened with the prospect of +his future, as he studied the character and temperament of his +fiancee during her first weeks of loss. + +But the net which he had woven was closing closer and closer about +him, and every day he became more hopelessly entangled in its meshes. + +At the end of one month, the family physician decided that travel and +change of air and scene was an imperative necessity for Miss +Lawrence. Judge Lawrence was engaged in some important legal matters +which rendered an extended journey impossible for him. To trust +Mabel in the hands of hired nurses alone, was not advisable. It was +her father who suggested an early marriage and a European trip for +bride and groom, as the wisest expedient under the circumstances. + +Like the prisoner in the iron room, who saw the walls slowly but +surely closing in to crush out his life, Preston Cheney saw his +wedding day approaching, and knew that his doom was sealed. + +There were many desperate hours, when, had he possessed the slightest +clue to the hiding-place of Berene Dumont, he would have flown to +her, even knowing that he left disgrace and death behind him. He +realised that he now owed a duty to the girl he loved, higher and +more imperative by far than any he owed to his fiancee. But he had +not the means to employ a detective to find Berene; and he was not +sure that, if found, she might not spurn him. He had heard and read +of cases where a woman's love had turned to bitter loathing and +hatred for the man who had not protected her in a moment of weakness. +He could think of no other cause which would lead Berene to disappear +in such a mysterious manner at such a time, and so the days passed +and he married Mabel Lawrence two months after the death of her +mother, and the young couple set forth immediately on extended +foreign travels. Fifteen months later they returned to Beryngford +with their infant daughter Alice. Mrs Cheney was much improved in +health, though still a great sufferer from nervous disorders, a +misfortune which the child seemed to inherit. She would lie and +scream for hours at a time, clenching her small fists and growing +purple in the face, and all efforts of parents, nurses or physicians +to soothe her, served only to further increase her frenzy. She +screamed and beat the air with her thin arms and legs until nature +exhausted itself, then she fell into a heavy slumber and awoke in +good spirits. + +These attacks came on frequently in the night, and as they rendered +Mrs Cheney very "nervous," and caused a panic among the nurses, it +devolved upon the unhappy father to endeavour to soothe the violent +child. And while he walked the floor with her or leaned over her +crib, using all his strong mental powers to control these unfortunate +paroxysms, no vision came to him of another child lying cuddled in +her mother's arms in a distant town, a child of wonderful beauty and +angelic nature, born of love, and inheriting love's divine qualities. + +A few months before the young couple returned to their native soil, +they received a letter which caused Preston the greatest +astonishment, and Mabel some hours of hysterical weeping. This +letter was written by Judge Lawrence, and announced his marriage to +Baroness Brown. Judge Lawrence had been a widower more than a year +when the Baroness took the book of his heart, in which he supposed +the hand of romance had long ago written "finis," and turning it to +his astonished eyes revealed a whole volume of love's love. + +It is in the second reading of their hearts that the majority of men +find the most interesting literature. + +Before the Baroness had been three months his wife, the long years of +martyrdom he had endured as the husband of Mabel's mother seemed like +a nightmare dream to Judge Lawrence; and all of life, hope and +happiness was embodied in the woman who ruled his destiny with a +hypnotic sway no one could dispute, yet a woman whose heart still +throbbed with a stubborn and lawless passion for the man who called +her husband father. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + + +More than two decades had passed since Preston Cheney followed the +dictates of his ambition and married Mabel Lawrence. + +Many of his early hopes and desires had been realised during these +years. He had attained to high political positions; and honour and +wealth were his to enjoy. Yet Senator Cheney, as he was now known, +was far from a happy man. Disappointment was written in every +lineament of his face, restlessness and discontent spoke in his every +movement, and at times the spirit of despair seemed to look from the +depths of his eyes. + +To a man of any nobility of nature, there can be small satisfaction +in honours which he knows are bought with money and bribes; and to +the proud young American there was the additional sting of knowing +that even the money by which his honours were purchased was not his +own. + +It was the second Mrs Lawrence (still designated as the "Baroness" by +her stepdaughter and by old acquaintances) to whom Preston owed the +constant reminder of his dependence upon the purse of his father-in- +law. In those subtle, occult ways known only to a jealous and +designing nature, the Baroness found it possible to make Preston's +life a torture, without revealing her weapons of warfare to her +husband; indeed, without allowing him to even smell the powder, while +she still kept up a constant small fire upon the helpless enemy. + +Owing to the fact that Mabel had come as completely under the +hypnotic influence of the Baroness as the first Mrs Lawrence had been +during her lifetime, Preston was subjected to a great deal more of +her persecutions than would otherwise have been possible. Mabel was +never happier than when enjoying the companionship of her new mother; +a condition of things which pleased the Judge as much as it made his +son-in-law miserable. + +With a malicious adroitness possible only to such a woman as the +second Mrs Lawrence, she endeared herself to Mrs Cheney, by a +thousand flattering and caressing ways, and by a constant exhibition +of sympathy, which to a weak and selfish nature is as pleasing as it +is distasteful to the proud and strong. And by this inexhaustible +flow of sympathetic feeling, she caused the wife to drift farther and +farther away from her husband's influence, and to accuse him of all +manner of shortcomings and faults which had not suggested themselves +to her own mind. + +Mabel had not given or demanded a devoted love when she married +Preston Cheney. She was quite satisfied to bear his name, and do the +honours of his house, and to be let alone as much as possible. It +was the name, not the estate, of wifehood she desired; and motherhood +she had accepted with reluctance and distaste. + +Never was a more undesired or unwelcome child born than her daughter +Alice, and the helpless infant shared with its father the resentful +anger which dominated her unwilling mother the wretched months before +its advent into earth life. + +To be let alone and allowed to follow her own whims and desires, and +never to be crossed in any wish, was all Mrs Cheney asked of her +husband. + +This role was one he had very willingly permitted her to pursue, +since with every passing week and month he found less and less to win +or bind him to his wife. Wretched as this condition of life was, it +might at least have settled into a monotonous calm, undisturbed by +strife, but for the molesting "sympathy" of the Baroness. + +"Poor thing, here you are alone again," she would say on entering the +house where Mabel lounged or lolled, quite content with her situation +until the tone and words of her stepmother aroused a resentful +consciousness of being neglected. Again the Baroness would say: + +"I do think you are such a brave little darling to carry so smiling a +face about with all you have to endure." Or, "Very few wives would +bear what you bear and hide every vestige of unhappiness from the +world. You are a wonderful and admirable character in my eyes." Or, +"It seems so strange that your husband does not adore you--but men +are blind to the best qualities in women like you. I never hear Mr +Cheney praising other women without a sad and almost resentful +feeling in my heart, realising how superior you are to all of his +favourites." It was the insidious effect of poisoned flattery like +this, which made the Baroness a ruling power in the Cheney household, +and at the same time turned an already cold and unloving wife into a +jealous and nagging tyrant who rendered the young statesman's home +the most dreaded place on earth to him, and caused him to live away +from it as much as possible. + +His only child, Alice, a frail, hysterical girl, devoid of beauty or +grace, gave him but little comfort or satisfaction. Indeed she was +but an added disappointment and pain in his life. Indulged in every +selfish thought by her mother and the Baroness, peevish and petulant, +always ailing, complaining and discontented, and still a victim to +the nervous disorders inherited from her mother, it was small wonder +that Senator Cheney took no more delight in the role of father than +he had found in the role of husband. + +Alice was given every advantage which money could purchase. But her +delicate health had rendered systematic study of any kind impossible, +and her twentieth birthday found her with no education, with no use +of her reasoning or will powers, but with a complete and beautiful +wardrobe in which to masquerade and air her poor little attempts at +music, art, or conversation. + +Judge Lawrence died when Alice was fifteen years of age, leaving both +his widow and his daughter handsomely provided for. + +The Baroness not only possessed the Beryngford homestead, but a house +in Washington as well; and both of these were occupied by tenants, +for Mabel insisted upon having her stepmother dwell under her own +roof. Senator Cheney had purchased a house in New York to gratify +his wife and daughter, and it was here the family resided, when not +in Washington or at the seaside resorts. Both women wished to +forget, and to make others forget, that they had ever lived in +Beryngford. They never visited the place and never referred to it. +They desired to be considered "New Yorkers" and always spoke of +themselves as such. + +The Baroness was now hopelessly passee. Yet it was the revealing of +the inner woman, rather than the withering of the exterior, which +betrayed her years. The woman who understands the art of bodily +preservation can, with constant toil and care, retain an appearance +of youth and charm into middle life; but she who would pass that +dreaded meridian, and still remain a goodly sight for the eyes of +men, must possess, in addition to all the secrets of the toilet, +those divine elixirs, unselfishness and love for humanity. Faith in +divine powers, too, and resignation to earthly ills, must do their +part to lend the fading eye lustre and to give a softening glow to +the paling cheek. Before middle life, it is the outer woman who is +seen; after middle life, skilled as she may be by art and however +endowed my nature, yet the inner woman becomes visible to the least +discerning eye, and the thoughts and feelings which have dominated +her during all the past, are shown upon her face and form like +printed words upon the open leaves of a book. That is why so many +young beauties become ugly old ladies, and why plain faces sometimes +are beautiful in age. + +The Baroness had been unremitting in the care of her person, and she +had by this toil saved her figure from becoming gross, retaining the +upright carriage and the tapering waist of youth, though she was upon +the verge of her sixtieth birthday. Her complexion, too, owing to +her careful diet, her hours of repose, and her knowledge of skin +foods and lotions, remained smooth, fair and unfurrowed. But the +long-guarded expression in her blue eyes of childlike innocence had +given place to the hard look of a selfish and unhappy nature, and the +lines about the small mouth accented the expression of the eyes. + +It was, despite its preservation of Nature's gifts, and despite its +forced smiles, the face of a selfish, cruel pessimist, disappointed +in her past and with no uplifting faith to brighten the future. + +The Baroness had been the wife of Judge Lawrence a number of years, +before she relinquished her hopes of one day making Preston Cheney +respond to the passion which burned unquenched in her breast. It had +been with the idea of augmenting the interests of the man whom she +believed to be her future lover, that she aided and urged on her +husband in his efforts to procure place and honour for his son-in- +law. + +It was this idea which caused her to widen the breach between wife +and husband by every subtle means in her power; and it was when this +idea began to lose colour and substance and drop away among the +wreckage of past hopes, that the Baroness ceased to compliment and +began to taunt Preston Cheney with his dependence upon his father-in- +law, and to otherwise goad and torment the unhappy man. And Preston +Cheney grew into the habit of staying anywhere longer than at home. + +During the last ten years the Baroness had seemed to abandon all +thoughts of gallant adventure. When the woman who has found life and +pleasures only in coquetry and conquest is forced to relinquish these +delights, she becomes either very devout or very malicious. + +The Baroness was devoid of religious feelings, and she became, +therefore, the most bitter and caustic of cynical critics at heart, +though she guarded her expression of these sentiments from policy. + +Yet to Mabel she expressed herself freely, knowing that her listener +enjoyed no conversation so much as that of gossip and criticism. A +beautiful or attractive woman was the target for her most cruel +shafts of sarcasm, and indeed no woman was safe from her secret +malice save Mabel and Alice, over whom she found it a greater +pleasure to exercise her hypnotic control. For Alice, indeed, the +Baroness entertained a peculiar affection. The fact that she was the +child of the man to whom she had given the strongest passion of her +life, and the girl's lack of personal beauty, and her unfortunate +physical condition, awoke a medley of love, pity and protection in +the heart of this strange woman. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + + +The Baroness had always been a churchgoing woman, yet she had never +united with any church, or subscribed to any creed. + +Religious observance was only an implement of social warfare with +her. Wherever her lot was cast, she made it her business to discover +which church the fashionable people of the town frequented, and to +become a familiar and liberal-handed personage in that edifice. + +Judge Lawrence and his family were High Church Episcopalians, and the +second Mrs Lawrence slipped gracefully into the pew vacated by the +first, and became a much more important feature in the congregation, +owing to her good health and extreme desire for popularity. Mabel +and Alice were devout believers in the orthodox dogmas which have +taken the place of the simple teachings of Christ in so many of our +churches to-day. They believed that people who did not go to church +would stand a very poor chance of heaven; and that a strict +observance of a Sunday religion would ensure them a passport into +God's favour. When they returned from divine service and mangled the +character and attire of their neighbours over the Sunday dinner- +table, no idea entered their heads or hearts that they had sinned +against the Holy Ghost. The pastor of their church knew them to be +selfish, worldly-minded women; yet he administered the holy sacrament +to them without compunction of conscience, and never by question or +remark implied a doubt of their true sincerity in things religious. +They believed in the creed of his church, and they paid liberally for +the support of that church. What more could he ask? + +This had been true of the pastor in Beryngford, and it proved equally +true of their spiritual adviser in Washington and in New York. + +Just across the aisle from the Lawrences sat a rich financier, in his +sumptuously cushioned pew. During six days of each week he was +engaged in crushing life and hope out of the hearts of the poor, +under his juggernaut wheels of monopoly. His name was known far and +near, as that of a powerful and cruel speculator, who did not +hesitate to pauperise his nearest friends if they placed themselves +in his reach. That he was a thief and a robber, no one ever denied; +yet so colossal were his thefts, so bold and successful his +robberies, the public gazed upon him with a sort of stupefied awe, +and allowed him to proceed, while miserable tramps, who stole +overcoats or robbed money drawers, were incarcerated for a term of +years, and then sternly refused assistance afterward by good people, +who place no confidence in jail birds. + +But each Sunday this successful robber occupied his high-priced +church pew, devoutly listening to the divine word. + +He never failed to partake of the holy communion, nor was his right +to do so ever questioned. + +The rector of the church knew his record perfectly; knew that his +gains were ill-gotten blood money, ground from the suffering poor by +the power of monopoly, and from confiding fools by smart lures and +scheming tricks. But this young clergyman, having recently been +called to preside over the fashionable church, had no idea of being +so impolite as to refuse to administer the bread and wine to one of +its most liberal supporters! + +There were constant demands upon the treasury of the church; it +required a vast outlay of money to maintain the splendour and +elegance of the temple which held its head so high above many others; +and there were large charities to be sustained, not to mention its +rector's princely salary. The millionaire pewholder was a liberal +giver. It rarely occurs to the fashionable dispensers of spiritual +knowledge to ask whether the devil's money should be used to gild the +Lord's temple; nor to question if it be a wise religion which allows +a man to rob his neighbours on weekdays, to give to the cause of +charity on Sundays. + +And yet if every clergyman and priest in the land were to make and +maintain these standards for their followers, there might be an +astonishing decrease in the needs of the poor and unfortunate. + +Were every church member obliged to open his month's ledgers to a +competent jury of inspectors, before he was allowed to take the holy +sacrament and avow himself a humble follower of Christ, what a +revolution might ensue! How church spires would crumble for lack of +support, and poorhouses lessen in number for lack of inmates! + +But the leniency of clergymen toward the shortcomings of their +wealthy parishioners is often a touching lesson in charity to the +thoughtful observer who stands outside the fold. + +For how could they obtain money to convert the heathen, unless this +sweet cloak of charity were cast over the sins of the liberal rich? +Christ is crucified by the fashionable clergymen to-day more cruelly +than he was by the Jews of old. + +Senator Cheney was not a church member, and he seldom attended +service. This was a matter of great solicitude to his wife and +daughter. The Baroness felt it to be a mistake on the part of +Senator Cheney, and even Judge Lawrence, who adored his son-in-law, +regretted the young man's indifference to things spiritual. But with +all Preston Cheney's worldly ambitions and weaknesses, there was a +vein of sincerity in his nature which forbade his feigning a faith he +did not feel; and the daily lives of the three feminine members of +his family were so in disaccord with his views of religion that he +felt no incentive to follow in their footsteps. Judge Lawrence he +knew to be an honest, loyal-hearted, God and humanity loving man. "A +true Christian by nature and education," he said of his father-in- +law, "but I am not born with his tendency to religious observance, +and I see less and less in the churches to lead me into the fold. It +seems to me that these religious institutions are getting to be vast +monopolistic corporations like the railroads and oil trusts, and the +like. I see very little of the spirit of Christ in orthodox people +to-day." + +Meanwhile Senator Cheney's purse was always open to any demand the +church made; he believed in churches as benevolent if not soul-saving +institutions, and cheerfully aided their charitable work. + +The rector of St Blank's, the fashionable edifice where the ladies of +the Cheney household obtained spiritual manna in New York, died when +Alice was sixteen years old. He was a good old man, and a sincere +Episcopalian, and whatever originality of thought or expression he +may have lacked, his strict observance of the High Church code of +ethics maintained the tone of his church and rendered him an object +of reverence to his congregation. His successor was Reverend Arthur +Emerson Stuart, a young man barely thirty years of age, heir to a +comfortable fortune, gifted with strong intellectual powers and +dowered with physical attractions. + +It was not a case of natural selection which caused Arthur Stuart to +adopt the church as a profession. It was the result of his middle +name. Mrs Stuart had been an Emerson--in some remote way her family +claimed relationship with Ralph Waldo. Her father and grandfather +and several uncles had been clergymen. She married a broker, who +left her a rich widow with one child, a son. From the hour this son +was born his mother designed him for the clergy, and brought him up +with the idea firmly while gently fixed in his mind. + +Whatever seed a mother plants in a young child's mind, carefully +watches over, prunes and waters, and exposes to sun and shade, is +quite certain to grow, if the soil is not wholly stony ground. + +Arthur Stuart adored his mother, and stifling some commercial +instincts inherited from the parental side, he turned his attention +to the ministry and entered upon his chosen work when only twenty- +five years of age. Eloquent, dramatic in speech, handsome, and +magnetic in person, independent in fortune, and of excellent lineage +on the mother's side, it was not surprising that he was called to +take charge of the spiritual welfare of fashionable St Blank's Church +on the death of the old pastor; or that, having taken the charge, he +became immensely popular, especially with the ladies of his +congregation. And from the first Sabbath day when they looked up +from their expensive pew into the handsome face of their new rector, +there was but one man in the world for Mabel Cheney and her daughter +Alice, and that was the Reverend Arthur Emerson Stuart. + +It has been said by a great and wise teacher, that we may worship the +god in the human being, but never the human being as God. This +distinction is rarely drawn by women, I fear, when their spiritual +teacher is a young and handsome man. The ladies of the Rev. Arthur +Stuart's congregation went home to dream, not of the Creator and +Maker of all things, nor of the divine Man, but of the handsome face, +stalwart form and magnetic voice of the young rector. They feasted +their eyes upon his agreeable person, rather than their souls upon +his words of salvation. Disappointed wives, lonely spinsters and +romantic girls believed they were coming nearer to spiritual truths +in their increased desire to attend service, while in fact they were +merely drawn nearer to a very attractive male personality. + +There was not the holy flame in the young clergyman's own heart to +ignite other souls; but his strong magnetism was perceptible to all, +and they did not realise the difference. And meantime the church +grew and prospered amazingly. + +It was observed by the congregation of St Blank's Church, shortly +after the advent of the new rector, that a new organist also occupied +the organ loft; and inquiry elicited the fact that the old man who +had officiated in that capacity during many years, had been retired +on a pension, while a young lady who needed the position and the +salary had been chosen to fill the vacancy. + +That the change was for the better could not be questioned. Never +before had such music pealed forth under the tall spires of St +Blank's. The new organist seemed inspired; and many people in the +fashionable congregation, hearing that this wonderful musician was a +young woman, lingered near the church door after service to catch a +glimpse of her as she descended from the loft. + +A goodly sight she was, indeed, for human eyes to gaze upon. Young, +of medium height and perfectly symmetry of shape, her blonde hair and +satin skin and eyes of velvet darkness were but her lesser charms. +That which riveted the gaze of every beholder, and drew all eyes to +her whereever she passed, was her air of radiant health and +happiness, which emanated from her like the perfume from a flower. + +A sad countenance may render a heroine of romance attractive in a +book, but in real life there is no charm at once so rare and so +fascinating as happiness. Did you ever think how few faces of the +grown up, however young, are really happy in expression? Discontent, +restlessness, longing, unsatisfied ambition or ill health mar ninety +and nine of every hundred faces we meet in the daily walks of life. +When we look upon a countenance which sparkles with health and +absolute joy in life, we turn and look again and yet again, charmed +and fascinated, though we do not know why. + +It was such a face that Joy Irving, the new organist of St Blank's +Church, flashed upon the people who had lingered near the door to see +her pass out. Among those who lingered was the Baroness; and all day +she carried about with her the memory of that sparkling countenance; +and strive as she would, she could not drive away a vague, strange +uneasiness which the sight of that face had caused her. + +Yet a vision of youth and beauty always made the Baroness unhappy, +now that both blessings were irrevocably lost to her. + +This particular young face, however, stirred her with those half- +painful, half-pleasurable emotions which certain perfumes awake in +us--vague reminders of joys lost or unattained, of dreams broken or +unrealised. Added to this, it reminded her of someone she had known, +yet she could not place the resemblance. + +"Oh, to be young and beautiful like that!" she sighed as she buried +her face in her pillow that night. "And since I cannot be, if only +Alice had that girl's face." + +And because Alice did not have it, the Baroness went to sleep with a +feeling of bitter resentment against its possessor, the beautiful +young organist of St Blank's. + + + +CHAPTER IX + + + +Up in the loft of St Blank's Church the young organist had been +practising the whole morning. People paused on the street to listen +to the glorious sounds, and were thrilled by them, as one is only +thrilled when the strong personality of the player enters into the +execution. + +Down into the committee-room, where several deacons and the young +rector were seated discussing some question pertaining to the well- +being of the church, the music penetrated too, causing the business +which had brought them together, to be suspended temporarily. + +"It is a sin to talk while music like that can be heard," remarked +one man. "You have found a genius in this new organist, Rector." + +The young man nodded silently, his eyes half closed with an +expression of somewhat sensuous enjoyment of the throbbing chords +which vibrated in perfect unison with the beating of his strong +pulses. + +"Where does she come from?" asked the deacon, as a pause in the music +occurred. + +"Her father was an earnest and prominent member of the little church +down-town of which I had charge during several years," replied the +young man. "Miss Irving was scarcely more than a child when she +volunteered her services as organist. The position brought her no +remuneration, and at that time she did not need it. Young as she +was, the girl was one of the most active workers among the poor, and +I often met her in my visits to the sick and unfortunate. She had +been a musical prodigy from the cradle, and Mr Irving had given her +every advantage to study and perfect her art. + +"I was naturally much interested in her. Mr Irving's long illness +left his wife and daughter without means of support, at his death, +and when I was called to take charge of St Blank's, I at once +realised the benefit to the family as well as to my church could I +secure the young lady the position here as organist. I am glad that +my congregation seem so well satisfied with my choice." + +Again the organ pealed forth, this time in that passionate music +originally written for the Garden Scene in Faust, and which the +church has boldly taken and arranged as a quartette to the words, +"Come unto me." + +It may be that to some who listen, it is the divine spirit which +makes its appeal through those stirring strains; but to the rector of +St Blank's, at least on that morning, it was human heart, calling +unto human heart. Mr Stuart and the deacons sat silently drinking in +the music. At length the rector rose. "I think perhaps we had +better drop the matter under discussion for to-day," he said. "We +can meet here Monday evening at five o'clock if agreeable to you all, +and finish the details. There are other and more important affairs +waiting for me now." + +The deacons departed, and the young rector sank back in his chair, +and gave himself up to the enjoyment of the sounds which flooded not +only the room, but his brain, heart and soul. + +"Queer," he said to himself as the door closed behind the human +pillars of his church. "Queer, but I felt as if the presence of +those men was an intrusion upon something belonging personally to me. +I wonder why I am so peculiarly affected by this girl's music? It +arouses my brain to action, it awakens ambition and gives me courage +and hope, and yet--" He paused before allowing his feeling to shape +itself into thoughts. Then closing his eyes and clasping his hands +behind his head while the music surged about him, he lay back in his +easy-chair as a bather might lie back and float upon the water, and +his unfinished sentence took shape thus: "And yet stronger than all +other feelings which her music arouses in me, is the desire to +possess the musician for my very own for ever; ah, well! the Roman +Catholics are wise in not allowing their priests and their nuns to +listen to all even so-called sacred music." + +It was perhaps ten minutes later that Joy Irving became conscious +that she was not alone in the organ loft. She had neither heard nor +seen his entrance, but she felt the presence of her rector, and +turned to find him silently watching her. She played her phrase to +the end, before she greeted him with other than a smile. Then she +apologised, saying: "Even one's rector must wait for a musical +phrase to reach its period. Angels may interrupt the rendition of a +great work, but not man. That were sacrilege. You see, I was really +praying, when you entered, though my heart spoke through my fingers +instead of my lips." + +"You need not apologise," the young man answered. "One who receives +your smile would be ungrateful indeed if he asked for more. That +alone would render the darkest spot radiant with light and welcome to +me." + +The girl's pink cheek flushed crimson, like a rose bathed in the +sunset colours of the sky. + +"I did not think you were a man to coin pretty speeches," she said. + +"Your estimate of me was a wise one. You read human nature +correctly. But come and walk in the park with me. You will overtax +yourself if you practise any longer. The sunlight and the air are +vying with each other to-day to see which can be the most +intoxicating. Come and enjoy their sparring match with me; I want to +talk to you about one of my unfortunate parishioners. It is a +peculiarly pathetic case. I think you can help and advise me in the +matter." + +It was a superb morning in early October. New York was like a +beautiful woman arrayed in her fresh autumn costume, disporting +herself before admiring eyes. + +Absorbed in each other's society, their pulses beating high with +youth, love and health; the young couple walked through the crowded +avenues of the great city, as happily and as naturally as Adam and +Eve might have walked in the Garden of Eden the morning after +Creation. + +Both were city born and city bred, yet both were as unfashionable and +untrammelled by custom as two children of the plains. + +In the very heart of the greatest metropolis in America, there are +people who live and retain all the primitive simplicity of village +life and thought. Mr Irving had been one of these. Coming to New +York from an interior village when a young man, he had, through +simple and quiet tastes and religious convictions, kept himself +wholly free from the social life of the city in which he lived. +After his marriage his entire happiness lay in his home, and Joy was +reared by parents who made her world. Mrs Irving sympathised fully +with her husband in his distaste for society, and her delicate health +rendered her almost a recluse from the world. + +A few pleasant acquaintances, no intimates, music, books, and a large +share of her time given to charitable work, composed the life of Joy +Irving. + +She had never been in a fashionable assemblage; she had never +attended a theatre, as Mr Irving did not approve of them. + +Extremely fond of outdoor life, she walked, unattended, wherever her +mood led her. As she had no acquaintances among society people, she +knew nothing and cared less for the rules which govern the +promenading habits of young women in New York. Her sweet face and +graceful figure were well known among the poorer quarters of the +city, and it was through her work in such places that Arthur Stuart's +attention had first been called to her. + +As for him, he was filled with that high, but not always wise, +disdain for society and its customs, which we so often find in town- +bred young men of intellectual pursuits. He was clean-minded, +independent, sure of his own purposes, and wholly indifferent to the +opinions of inferiors regarding his habits. + +He loved the park, and he asked Joy to walk with him there, as freely +as he would have asked her to sit with him in a conservatory. It was +a great delight to the young girl to go. + +"It seems such a pity that the women of New York get so little +benefit from this beautiful park," she said as they strolled along +through the winding paths together. "The wealthy people enjoy it in +a way from their carriages, and the poor people no doubt derive new +life from their Sunday promenades here. But there are thousands like +myself who are almost wholly debarred from its pleasures. I have +always wanted to walk here, but once I came and a rude man in a +carriage spoke to me. Mother told me never to come alone again. It +seems strange to me that men who are so proud of their strength, and +who should be the natural protectors of woman, can belittle +themselves by annoying or frightening her when alone. I am sure that +same man would never think of speaking to me now that I am with you. +How cowardly he seems when you think of it! Yet I am told there are +many like him, though that was my only experience of the kind." + +"Yes, there are many like him," the rector answered. "But you must +remember how short a time man has been evolving from a lower animal +condition to his present state, and how much higher he is to-day than +he was a hundred years ago even, when occasional drunkenness was +considered an attribute of a gentleman. Now it is a vice of which he +is ashamed." + +"Then you believe in evolution?" Joy asked with a note of surprise in +her voice. + +"Yes, I surely do; nor does the belief conflict with my religious +faith. I believe in many things I could not preach from my pulpit. +My congregation is not ready for broad truths. I am like an eclectic +physician--I suit my treatment to my patient--I administer the old +school or the new school medicaments as the case demands." + +"It seems to me there can be but one school in spiritual matters," +Joy said gravely--"the right one. And I think one should preach and +teach what he believes to be true and right, no matter what his +congregation demands. Oh, forgive me. I am very rude to speak like +that to you!" And she blushed and paled with fright at her boldness. + +They were seated on a rustic bench now, under the shadow of a great +tree. + +The rector smiled, his eyes fixed with pleased satisfaction on the +girl's beautiful face, with its changing colour and expression. He +felt he could well afford to be criticised or rebuked by her, if the +result was so gratifying to his sight. The young rector of St +Blank's lived very much more in his senses than in his ideals. + +"Perhaps you are right," he said. "I sometimes wish I had greater +courage of my convictions. I think I could have, were you to +stimulate me with such words often. But my mother is so afraid that +I will wander from the old dogmas, that I am constantly checking +myself. However, in regard to the case I mentioned to you--it is a +delicate subject, but you are not like ordinary young women, and you +and I have stood beside so many sick-beds and death-beds together +that we can speak as man to man, or woman to woman, with no false +modesty to bar our speech. + +"A very sad case has come to my knowledge of late. Miss Adams, a +woman who for some years has been a devout member of St Blank's +Church, has several times mentioned her niece to me, a young girl who +was away at boarding school. A few months ago the young girl +graduated and came to live with this aunt. I remember her as a +bright, buoyant and very intelligent girl. I have not seen her now +during two months; and last week I asked Miss Adams what had become +of her niece. Then the poor woman broke into sobs and told me the +sad state of affairs. It seems that the girl Marah is her daughter. +The poor mother had believed she could guard the truth from her +child, and had educated her as her niece, and was now prepared to +enjoy her companionship, when some mischief-making gossip dug up the +old scandal and imparted the facts to Marah. + +"The girl came to Miss Adams and demanded the truth, and the mother +confessed. Then the daughter settled into a profound melancholy, +from which nothing seemed to rouse her. She will not go out, remains +in the house, and broods constantly over her disgrace. + +"It occurred to me that if Marah Adams could be brought out of +herself and interested in some work, or study, it would be the +salvation of her reason. Her mother told me she is an accomplished +musician, but that she refuses to touch her piano now. I thought you +might take her as an understudy on the organ, and by your influence +and association lead her out of herself. You could make her +acquaintance through approaching the mother who is a milliner, on +business, and your tact would do the rest. In all my large and +wealthy congregation I know of no other woman to whom I could appeal +for aid in this delicate matter, so I am sure you will pardon me. In +fact, I fear were the matter to be known in the congregation at all, +it would lead to renewed pain and added hurts for both Miss Adams and +her daughter. You know women can be so cruel to each other in subtle +ways, and I have seen almost death-blows dealt in church aisles by +one church member to another." + +"Oh, that is a terrible reflection on Christians," cried Joy, who, a +born Christ-woman, believed that all professed church members must +feel the same divine spirit of sympathy and charity which burned in +her own sweet soul. + +"No, it is a simple truth--an unfortunate fact," the young man +replied. "I preach sermons at such members of my church, but they +seldom take them home. They think I mean somebody else. These are +the people who follow the letter and not the spirit of the church. +But one such member as you, recompenses me for a score of the others. +I felt I must come to you with the Marah Adams affair." + +Joy was still thinking of the reflection the rector had cast upon his +congregation. It hurt her, and she protested. + +"Oh, surely," she said, "you cannot mean that I am the only one of +the professed Christians in your church who would show mercy and +sympathy to poor Miss Adams. Surely few, very few, would forget +Christ's words to Mary Magdalene, 'Go and sin no more,' or fail to +forgive as He forgave. She has led such a good life all these +years." + +The rector smiled sadly. + +"You judge others by your own true heart," he said. "But I know the +world as it is. Yes, the members of my church would forgive Miss +Adams for her sin--and cut her dead. They would daily crucify her +and her innocent child by their cold scorn or utter ignoring of them. +They would not allow their daughters to associate with this blameless +girl, because of her mother's misstep. + +"It is the same in and out of the churches. Twenty people will +repeat Christ's words to a repentant sinner, but nineteen of that +twenty interpolate a few words of their own, through tone, gesture or +manner, until 'Go and sin no more' sounds to the poor unfortunate +more like 'Go just as far away from me and mine as you can get--and +sin no more!' Only one in that score puts Christ's merciful and +tender meaning into the phrase and tries by sympathetic association +to make it possible for the sinner to sin no more. I felt you were +that one, and so I appealed to you in this matter about Marah Adams." + +Joy's eyes were full of tears. "You must know more of human nature +than I do," she said, "but I hate terribly to think you are right in +this estimate of the people of your congregation. I will go and see +what I can do for this girl to-morrow. Poor child, poor mother, to +pass through a second Gethsemane for her sin. I think any girl or +boy whose home life is shadowed, is to be pitied. I have always had +such a happy home, and such dear parents, the world would seem +insupportable, I am sure, were I to face it without that background. +Dear papa's death was a great blow, and mother's ill health has been +a sorrow, but we have always been so happy and harmonious, and that, +I think, is worth more than a fortune to a child. Poor, poor Marah-- +unable to respect her mother, what a terrible thing it all is!" + +"Yes, it is a sad affair. I cannot help thinking it would have been +a pardonable lie if Miss Adams had denied the truth when the girl +confronted her with the story. It is the one situation in life where +a lie is excusable, I think. It would have saved this poor girl no +end of sorrow, and it could not have added much to the mother's +burden. I think lying must have originated with an erring woman." + +Joy looked at her rector with startled eyes. "A lie is never +excusable," she said, "and I do not believe it ever saves sorrow. +But I see you do not mean what you say, you only feel very sorry for +the girl; and you surely do not forget that the lie originated with +Satan, who told a falsehood to Eve." + + + +CHAPTER X + + + +Ever since early girlhood Joy Irving had formed a habit of jotting +down in black and white her own ideas regarding any book, painting, +concert, conversation or sermon, which interested her, and +epitomising the train of thought to which they led. + +The evening after her walk and talk with the rector of St Blank's, +she took out her note-book, which bore a date four years old under +its title "My Impressions," and read over the last page of entries. +They had evidently been written at the close of some Sabbath day and +ran as follows:- + + +Many a kneeling woman is more occupied with how her skirts hang than +how her prayers ascend. I am inclined to think we all ought to wear +a uniform to church if we would really worship there. God must grow +weary looking down on so many new bonnets. + +I wore a smart hat to church to-day, and I found myself criticising +every other woman's bonnet during service, so that I failed in some +of my responses. + +If we could all be compelled by some mysterious power to THINK ALOUD +on Sunday, what a veritable holy day we would make of it! Though we +are taught from childhood that God hears our thoughts, the best of us +would be afraid to have our nearest friends know them. + +I sometimes think it is a presumption on the part of any man to rise +in the pulpit and undertake to tell me about a Creator with whom I +feel every whit as well acquainted as he. I suppose such thoughts +are wicked, however, and should be suppressed. + +It is a curious fact, that the most aggressively sensitive persons +are at heart the most conceited. + +I wish people smiled more in church aisles. In fact, I think we all +laugh at one another too much and smile at one another too seldom. + +After the devil had made all the trouble for woman he could with the +fig leaf, he introduced the French heel. + +It is well to see the ridiculous side of things, but not of people. + +Most of us would rather be popular than right. + + +To these impressions Joy added the following:- + + +It is not the interior of one's house, but the interior of one's mind +which makes home. + +It seems to me that to be, is to love. I can conceive of no state of +existence which is not permeated with this feeling toward something, +somebody or the illimitable "nothing" which is mother to everything. + +I wish we had more religion in the world and fewer churches. + +People who believe in no God, invariably exalt themselves into His +position, and worship with the very idolatry they decry in others. + +Music is the echo of the rhythm of God's respirations. + +Poetry is the effort of the divine part of man to formulate a worthy +language in which to converse with angels. + +Painting and sculpture seem to me the most presumptuous of the arts. +They are an effort of man to outdo God in creation. He never made a +perfect form or face--the artist alone makes them. + +I am sure I do not play the organ as well at St Blank's as I played +it in the little church where I gave my services and was unknown. +People are praising me too much here, and this mars all spontaneity. + +The very first hour of positive success is often the last hour of +great achievement. So soon as we are conscious of the admiring and +expectant gaze of men, we cease to commune with God. It is when we +are unknown to or neglected by mortals, that we reach up to the +Infinite and are inspired. + +I have seen Marah Adams to-day, and I felt strangely drawn to her. +Her face would express all goodness if it were not so unhappy. +Unhappiness is a species of evil, since it is a discourtesy to God to +be unhappy. + +I am going to do all I can for the girl to bring her into a better +frame of mind. No blame can be attached to her, and yet now that I +am face to face with the situation, and realise how the world regards +such a person, I myself find it a little hard to think of braving +public opinion and identifying myself with her. But I am going to +overcome such feelings, as they are cowardly and unworthy of me, and +purely the result of education. I am amazed, too, to discover this +weakness in myself. + +How sympathetic dear mamma is! I told her about Marah, and she wept +bitterly, and has carried her eyes full of tears ever since. I must +be careful and tell her nothing sad while she is in such a weak state +physically. + +I told mamma what the rector said about lying. She coincided with +him that Mrs Adams would have been justified in denying the truth if +she had realised how her daughter was to be affected by this +knowledge. A woman's past belongs only to herself and her God, she +says, unless she wishes to make a confidant. But I cannot agree with +her or the rector. I would want the truth from my parents, however +much it hurt. Many sins which men regard as serious only obstruct +the bridge between our souls and truth. A lie burns the bridge. + +I hope I am not uncharitable, yet I cannot conceive of committing an +act through love of any man, which would lower me in his esteem, once +committed. Yet of course I have had little experience in life, with +men, or with temptation. But it seems to me I could not continue to +love a man who did not seek to lead me higher. The moment he stood +before me and asked me to descend, I should realise he was to be +pitied--not adored. + +I told mother this, and she said I was too young and inexperienced to +form decided opinions on such subjects, and she warned me that I must +not become uncharitable. She wept bitterly as she thought of my +becoming narrow or bigoted in my ideas, dear, tender-hearted mamma. + +Death should be called the Great Revealer instead of the Great +Destroyer. + +Some people think the way into heaven is through embroidered altar +cloths. + +The soul that has any conception of its own possibilities does not +fear solitude. + +A girl told me to-day that a rude man annoyed her by staring at her +in a public conveyance. It never occurred to her that it takes four +eyes to make a stare annoying. + +Astronomers know more about the character of the stars than the +average American mother knows about the temperament of her daughters. + +To some women the most terrible thought connected with death is the +dates in the obituary notice. + +As a rule, when a woman opens the door of an artistic career with one +hand, she shuts the door on domestic happiness with the other. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + + +The rector of St Blank's Church dined at the Cheney table or drove in +the Cheney establishment every week, beside which there were always +one or two confidential chats with the feminine Cheneys in the +parsonage on matters pertaining to the welfare of the church, and +occasionally to the welfare of humanity. + +That Alice Cheney had conceived a sudden and consuming passion for +the handsome and brilliant rector of St Blank's, both her mother and +the Baroness knew, and both were doing all in their power to further +the girl's hopes. + +While Alice resembled her mother in appearance and disposition, +propensities and impulses occasionally exhibited themselves which +spoke of paternal inheritance. She had her father's strongly +emotional nature, with her mother's stubbornness; and Preston +Cheney's romantic tendencies were repeated in his daughter, without +his reasoning powers. Added to her father's lack of self-control in +any strife with his passions, Alice possessed her mother's hysterical +nerves. In fact, the unfortunate child inherited the weaknesses and +faults of both parents, without any of their redeeming virtues. + +The passion which had sprung to life in her breast for the young +rector, was as strong and unreasoning as the infatuation which her +father had once experienced for Berene Dumont; but instead of +struggling against the feeling as her father had at least attempted +to do, she dwelt upon it with all the mulish persistency which her +mother exhibited in small matters, and luxuriated in romantic dreams +of the future. + +Mabel was wholly unable to comprehend the depth or violence of her +daughter's feelings, but she realised the fact that Alice had set her +mind on winning Arthur Stuart for a husband, and she quite approved +of the idea, and saw no reason why it should not succeed. She +herself had won Preston Cheney away from all rivals for his favour, +and Alice ought to be able to do the same with Arthur, after all the +money which had been expended upon her wardrobe. Senator Cheney's +daughter and Judge Lawrence's granddaughter, surely was a prize for +any man to win as a wife. + +The Baroness, however, reviewed the situation with more concern of +mind. She realised that Alice was destitute of beauty and charm, and +that Arthur Emerson Stuart (it would have been considered a case of +high treason to speak of the rector of St Blank's without using his +three names) was independent in the matter of fortune, and so dowered +with nature's best gifts that he could have almost any woman for the +asking whom he should desire. But the Baroness believed much in +propinquity; and she brought the rector and Alice together as often +as possible, and coached the girl in coquettish arts when alone with +her, and credited her with witticisms and bon-mots which she had +never uttered, when talking of her to the young rector. + +"If only I could give Alice the benefit of my past career," the +Baroness would say to herself at times. "I know so well how to +manage men; but what use is my knowledge to me now that I am old? +Alice is young, and even without beauty she could do so much, if she +only understood the art of masculine seduction. But then it is a +gift, not an acquired art, and Alice was not born with the gift." + +While Mabel and Alice had been centring their thoughts and attentions +on the rector, the Baroness had not forgotten the rector's mother. +She knew the very strong affection which existed between the two, and +she had discovered that the leading desire of the young man's heart +was to make his mother happy. With her wide knowledge of human +nature, she had not been long in discerning the fact that it was not +because of his own religious convictions that the rector had chosen +his calling, but to carry out the lifelong wishes of his beloved +mother. + +Therefore she reasoned wisely that Arthur would be greatly influenced +by his mother in his choice of a wife; and the Baroness brought all +her vast battery of fascination to bear on Mrs Stuart, and succeeded +in making that lady her devoted friend. + +The widow of Judge Lawrence was still an imposing and impressive +figure wherever she went. Though no longer a woman who appealed to +the desires of men, she exhaled that peculiar mental aroma which +hangs ever about a woman who has dealt deeply and widely in affairs +of the heart. It is to the spiritual senses what musk is to the +physical; and while it may often repulse, it sometimes attracts, and +never fails to be noticed. About the Baroness's mouth were hard +lines, and the expression of her eyes was not kind or tender; yet she +was everywhere conceded to be a universally handsome and attractive +woman. Quiet and tasteful in her dressing, she did not accentuate +the ravages of time by any mistaken frivolities of toilet, as so many +faded coquettes have done, but wisely suited her vestments to her +appearance, as the withering branch clothes itself in russet leaves, +when the fresh sap ceases to course through its veins. New York City +is a vast sepulchre of "past careers," and the adventurous life of +the Baroness was quietly buried there with that of many another +woman. In the mad whirl of life there is small danger that any of +these skeletons will rise to view, unless the woman permits herself +to strive for eminence either socially or in the world of art. + +While the Cheneys were known to be wealthy, and the Senator had +achieved political position, there was nothing in their situation to +challenge the jealousy of their associates. They moved in one of the +many circles of cultured and agreeable people, which, despite the +mandate of a M'Allister, formed a varied and delightful society in +the metropolis; they entertained in an unostentatious manner, and +there was nothing in their personality to incite envy or jealousy. +Therefore the career of the Baroness had not been unearthed. That +the widow of Judge Lawrence, the stepmother of Mrs Cheney, was known +as "The Baroness" caused some questions, to be sure, but the simple +answer that she had been the widow of a French baron in early life +served to allay curiosity, while it rendered the lady herself an +object of greater interest to the majority of people. + +Mrs Stuart, the rector's mother, was one of those who were most +impressed by this incident in the life of Mrs Lawrence. "Family +pride" was her greatest weakness, and she dearly loved a title. She +thought Mrs Lawrence a typical "Baroness," and though she knew the +title had only been obtained through marriage, it still rendered its +possessor peculiarly interesting in her eyes. + +In her prime, the Baroness had been equally successful in cajoling +women and men. Though her day for ruling men was now over, she still +possessed the power to fascinate women when she chose to exert +herself. She did exert herself with Mrs Stuart, and succeeded +admirably in her design. + +And one day Mrs Stuart confided her secret anxiety to the ear of the +Baroness; and that secret caused the cheek of the listener to grow +pale and the look of an animal at bay to come into her eyes. + +"There is just one thing that gives me a constant pain at my heart," +Mrs Stuart had said. "You have never been a mother, yet I think your +sympathetic nature causes you to understand much which you have not +experienced, and knowing as you do the great pride I feel in my son's +career, and the ambition I have for him to rise to the very highest +pinnacle of success and usefulness, I am sure you will comprehend my +anxiety when I see him exhibiting an undue interest in a girl who is +in every way his inferior, and wholly unsuited to fill the position +his wife should occupy." + +The Baroness listened with a cold, sinking sensation at her heart + +"I am sure your son would never make a choice which was not agreeable +to you," she ventured. + +"He might not marry anyone I objected to," Mrs Stuart replied, "but I +dread to think his heart may be already gone from his keeping. Young +men are so susceptible to a pretty face and figure, and I confess +that Joy Irving has both. She is a good girl, too, and a fine +musician; but she has no family, and her alliance with my son would +be a great drawback to his career. Her father was a grocer, I +believe, or something of that sort; quite a common man, who married a +third-class actress, Joy's mother. Mr Irving was in very comfortable +circumstances at one time, but a stroke of paralysis rendered him +helpless some four years ago. He died last year and left his widow +and child in straitened circumstances. Mrs Irving is an invalid now, +and Joy supports her with her music. Mr Irving and Joy were members +of Arthur Emerson's former church (Mrs Stuart always spoke of her son +in that manner), and that is how my son became interested in the +daughter--an interest I supposed to be purely that of a rector in his +parishioner, until of late, when I began to fear it took root in +deeper soil. But I am sure, dear Baroness, you can understand my +anxiety." + +And then the Baroness, with drawn lips and anguished eyes, took both +of Mrs Stuart's hands in hers, and cried out: + +"Your pain, dear madam, is second to mine. I have no child, to be +sure, but as few mothers love I love Alice Cheney, my dear husband's +granddaughter. My very life is bound up in her, and she--God help +us, she loves your son with her whole soul. If he marries another it +will kill her or drive her insane." + +The two women fell weeping into each other's arms. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + + +Preston Cheney conceived such a strong, earnest liking for the young +clergyman whom he met under his own roof during one of his visits +home, that he fell into the habit of attending church for the first +time in his life. + +Mabel and Alice were deeply gratified with this intimacy between the +two men, which brought the rector to the house far oftener than they +could have tastefully done without the co-operation of the husband +and father. Besides, it looked well to have the head of the +household represented in the church. To the Baroness, also, there +was added satisfaction in attending divine service, now that Preston +Cheney sat in the pew. All hope of winning the love she had so +longed to possess, died many years before; and she had been cruel and +unkind in numerous ways to the object of her hopeless passion, yet +like the smell of dead rose leaves long shut in a drawer, there clung +about this man the faint, suggestive fragrance of a perished dream. + +She knew that he did not love his wife, and that he was disappointed +in his daughter; and she did not at least have to suffer the pain of +seeing him lavish the affection she had missed, on others. + +Mr Cheney had been called away from home on business the day before +the new organist took her place in St Blank's Church. Nearly a month +had passed when he again occupied his pew. + +Before the organist had finished her introduction, he turned to +Alice, saying: + +"There has been a change here in the choir, since I went away, and +for the better. That is a very unusual musician. Do you know who it +is?" + +"Some lady, I believe; I do not remember her name," Alice answered +indifferently. Like her mother, Alice never enjoyed hearing anyone +praised. It mattered little who it was, or how entirely out of her +own line the achievements or accomplishments on which the praise was +bestowed, she still felt that petty resentment of small creatures who +believe that praise to others detracts from their own value. + +A fortune had been expended on Alice's musical education, yet she +could do no more than rattle through some mediocre composition, with +neither taste nor skill. + +The money which has been wasted in trying to teach music to unmusical +people would pay our national debt twice over, and leave a competency +for every orphan in the land. + +When the organist had finished her second selection, Mr Cheney +addressed the same question to his wife which he had addressed to +Alice. + +"Who is the new organist?" he queried. Mabel only shook her head and +placed her finger on her lip as a signal for silence during service. + +The third time it was the Baroness, sitting just beyond Mabel, to +whom Mr Cheney spoke. "That's a very remarkable musician, very +remarkable," he said. "Do you know anything about her?" + +"Yes, wait until we get home, and I will tell you all about her," the +Baroness replied. + +When the service was over, Mr Cheney did not pass out at once, as was +his custom. Instead he walked toward the pulpit, after requesting +his family to wait a moment. + +The rector saw him and came down into the aisle to speak to him. + +"I want to congratulate you on the new organist," Mr Cheney said, +"and I want to meet her. Alice tells me it is a lady. She must have +devoted a lifetime to hard study to become such a marvellous mistress +of that difficult instrument." + +Arthur Stuart smiled. "Wait a moment," he said, "and I will send for +her. I would like you to meet her, and like her to meet your wife +and family. She has few, if any, acquaintances in my congregation." + +Mr Cheney went down the aisle, and joined the three ladies who were +waiting for him in the pew. All were smiling, for all three believed +that he had been asking the rector to accompany them home to dinner. +His first word dispelled the illusion. + +"Wait here a moment," he said. "Mr Stuart is going to bring the +organist to meet us. I want to know the woman who can move me so +deeply by her music." + +Over the faces of his three listeners there fell a cloud. Mabel +looked annoyed, Alice sulky, and a flush of the old jealous fury +darkened the brow of the Baroness. But all were smiling deceitfully +when Joy Irving approached. + +Her radiant young beauty, and the expressions of admiration with +which Preston Cheney greeted her as a woman and an artist, filled +life with gall and wormwood for the three feminine listeners. + +"What! this beautiful young miss, scarcely out of short frocks, is +not the musician who gave us that wonderful harmony of sounds. My +child, how did you learn to play like that in the brief life you have +passed on earth? Surely you must have been taught by the angels +before you came." + +A deep blush of pleasure at the words which, though so extravagant, +Joy felt to be sincere, increased her beauty as she looked up into +Preston Cheney's admiring eyes. + +And as he held her hands in both of his and gazed down upon her it +seemed to the Baroness she could strike them dead at her feet and +rejoice in the act. + +Beside this radiant vision of loveliness and genius, Alice looked +plainer and more meagre than ever before. She was like a wayside +weed beside an American Beauty rose. + +"I hope you and Alice will become good friends," Mr Cheney said +warmly. "We should like to see you at the house any time you can +make it convenient to come, would we not Mabel?" + +Mrs Cheney gave a formal assent to her husband's words as they turned +away, leaving Joy with the rector. And a scene in one of life's +strangest dramas had been enacted, unknown to them all. + +"I would like you to be very friendly with that girl, Alice," Mr +Cheney repeated as they seated themselves in the carriage. "She has +a rare face, a rare face, and she is highly gifted. She reminds me +of someone I have known, yet I can't think who it is. What do you +know about her, Baroness?" + +The Baroness gave an expressive shrug. "Since you admire her so +much," she said, "I rather hesitate telling you. But the girl is of +common origin--a grocer's daughter, and her mother quite an inferior +person. I hardly think it a suitable companionship for Alice." + +"I am sure I don't care to know her," chimed in Alice. "I thought +her quite bold and forward in her manner." + +"Decidedly so! She seemed to hang on to your father's hand as if she +would never let go," added Mabel, in her most acid tone. "I must +say, I should have been horrified to see you act in such a familiar +manner toward any stranger." A quick colour shot into Preston +Cheney's cheek and a spark into his eye. + +"The girl was perfectly modest in her deportment to me," he said. +"She is a lady through and through, however humble her birth may be. +But I ought to have known better than to ask my wife and daughter to +like anyone whom I chanced to admire. I learned long ago how futile +such an idea was." + +"Oh, well, I don't see why you need get so angry over a perfect +stranger whom you never laid eyes on until to-day," pouted Alice. "I +am sure she's nothing to any of us that we need quarrel over her." + +"A man never gets so old that he is not likely to make a fool of +himself over a pretty face," supplemented Mabel, "and there is no +fool like an old fool." + +The uncomfortable drive home came to an end at this juncture, and +Preston Cheney retired to his own room, with the disagreeable words +of his wife and daughter ringing in his ears, and the beautiful face +of the young organist floating before his eyes. + +"I wish she were my daughter," he said to himself; "what a comfort +and delight a girl like that would be to me!" + +And while these thoughts filled the man's heart the Baroness paced +her room with all the jealous passions of her still ungoverned nature +roused into new life and violence at the remembrance of Joy Irving's +fresh young beauty and Preston Cheney's admiring looks and words. + +"I could throttle her," she cried, "I could throttle her. Oh, why is +she sent across my life at every turn? Why should the only two men +in the world who interest me to-day, be so infatuated over that girl? +But if I cannot remove so humble an obstacle as she from my pathway, +I shall feel that my day of power is indeed over, and that I do not +believe to be true." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + + +Two weeks later the organ loft of St Blank's Church was occupied by a +stranger. For a few hours the Baroness felt a wild hope in her heart +that Miss Irving had been sent away. + +But inquiry elicited the information that the young musician had +merely employed a substitute because her mother was lying seriously +ill at home. + +It was then that the Baroness put into execution a desire she had to +make the personal acquaintance of Joy Irving. + +The desire had sprung into life with the knowledge of the rector's +interest in the girl. No one knew better than the Baroness how to +sow the seeds of doubt, distrust and discord between two people whom +she wished to alienate. Many a sweetheart, many a wife, had she +separated from lover and husband, scarcely leaving a sign by which +the trouble could be traced to her, so adroit and subtle were her +methods. + +She felt that she could insert an invisible wedge between these two +hearts, which would eventually separate them, if only she might make +the acquaintance of Miss Irving. And now chance had opened the way +for her. + +She made her resolve known to the rector. + +"I am deeply interested in the young organist whom I had the pleasure +of meeting some weeks ago," she said, and she noted with a sinking +heart the light which flashed into the man's face at the mere mention +of the girl. "I understand her mother is seriously ill, and I think +I will go around and call. Perhaps I can be of use. I understand +Mrs Irving is not a churchwoman, and she may be in real need, as the +family is in straitened circumstances. May I mention your name when +I call, in order that Miss Irving may not think I intrude?" + +"Why, certainly," the rector replied with warmth. "Indeed, I will +give you a card of introduction. That will open the way for you, and +at the same time I know you will use your delicate tact to avoid +wounding Miss Irving's pride in any way. She is very sensitive about +their straitened circumstances; you may have heard that they were +quite well-to-do until the stroke of paralysis rendered her father +helpless. All their means were exhausted in efforts to restore his +health, and in the employment of nurses and physicians. I think they +have found life a difficult problem since his death, as Mrs Irving +has been under medical care constantly, and the whole burden falls on +Miss Joy's young shoulders, and she is but twenty-one." + +"Just the age of Alice," mused the Baroness. "How differently +people's lives are ordered in this world! But then we must have the +hewers of wood and the drawers of water, and we must have the +delicate human flowers. Our Alice is one of the latter, a frail +blossom to look upon, but she is one of the kind which will bloom out +in great splendour under the sunshine of love and happiness. Very +few people realise what wonderful reserve force that delicate child +possesses. And such a tender heart! She was determined to come with +me when she heard of Miss Irving's trouble, but I thought it unwise +to take her until I had seen the place. She is so sensitive to her +surroundings, and it might be too painful for her. I am for ever +holding her back from overtaxing herself for others. No one dreams +of the amount of good that girl does in a secret, quiet way; and at +the same time she assumes an indifferent air and talks as if she were +quite heartless, just to hinder people from suspecting her charitable +work. She is such a strange, complicated character." + +Armed with her card of introduction, the Baroness set forth on her +"errand of mercy." She had not mentioned Miss Irving's name to Mabel +or Alice. The secret of the rector's interest in the girl was locked +in her own breast. She knew that Mabel was wholly incapable of +coping with such a situation, and she dreaded the effect of the news +on Alice, who was absorbed in her love dream. The girl had never +been denied a wish in her life, and no thought came to her that she +could be thwarted in this, her most cherished hope of all. + +The Baroness was determined to use every gun in her battery of +defence before she allowed Mabel or Alice to know that defence was +needed. + +The rector's card admitted her to the parlour of a small flat. The +portieres of an adjoining room were thrown open presently, and a +vision of radiant beauty entered the room. + +The Baroness could not explain it, but as the girl emerged from the +curtains, a strange, confused memory of something and somebody she +had known in the past came over her. But when the girl spoke, a more +inexplicable sensation took possession of the listener, for her voice +was the feminine of Preston Cheney's masculine tones, and then as she +looked at the girl again the haunting memories of the first glance +were explained, for she was very like Preston Cheney as the Baroness +remembered him when he came to the Palace to engage rooms more than a +score of years ago. "What a strange thing these resemblances are!" +she thought. "This girl is more like Senator Cheney, far more like +him, than Alice is. Ah, if Alice only had her face and form!" + +Miss Irving gave a slight start, and took a step back as her eyes +fell upon the Baroness. The rector's card had read, "Introducing Mrs +Sylvester Lawrence." She had known this lad by sight ever since her +first Sunday as organist at St Blank's, and for some unaccountable +reason she had conceived a most intense dislike for her. Joy was +drawn toward humanity in general, as naturally as the sunlight falls +on the earth's foliage. Her heart radiated love and sympathy toward +the whole world. But when she did feel a sentiment of distrust or +repulsion she had learned to respect it. + +Our guardian angels sometimes send these feelings as danger signals +to our souls. + +It therefore required a strong effort of her will to go forward and +extend a hand in greeting to the lady whom her rector and friend had +introduced. + +"I must beg pardon for this intrusion," the Baroness said with her +sweetest smile; "but our rector urged me to come and so I felt +emboldened to carry out the wish I have long entertained to make your +acquaintance. Your wonderful music inspires all who hear you to know +you personally; the service lacked half its charm on Sunday because +you were absent. When I learnt that your absence was occasioned by +your mother's illness, I asked the rector if he thought a call from +me would be an intrusion, and he assured me to the contrary. I used +to be considered an excellent nurse; I am very strong, and full of +vitality, and if you would permit me to sit by your mother some +Sunday when you are needed at church, I should be most happy to do +so. I should like to make the acquaintance of your mother, and +compliment her on the happiness of possessing such a gifted and +dutiful daughter." + +Like all who sat for any time under the spell of the second Mrs +Lawrence, Joy felt the charm of her voice, words and manner, and it +began to seem as if she had been very unreasonable in entertaining +unfounded prejudices. + +That the rector had introduced her was alone proof of her worthiness; +and the gracious offer of the distinguished-looking lady to watch by +the bedside of a stranger was certainly evidence of her good heart. +The frost disappeared from her smile, and she warmed toward the +Baroness. The call lengthened into a visit, and as the Baroness +finally rose to go, Joy said: + +"I will take you in and introduce you to mamma now. I think it will +do her good to meet you," and the Baroness followed the graceful girl +through a narrow hall, and into a room which had evidently been +intended for a dining-room, but which, owing to its size and its +windows opening to the south, had been utilised as a sick chamber. + +The invalid lay with her face turned away from the door. But by the +movement of the delicate hand on the counterpane, Joy knew that her +mother was awake. + +"Mamma, I have brought a lady, a friend of Dr Stuart's, to see you," +Joy said gently. The invalid turned her head upon the pillow, and +the Baroness looked upon the face of--Berene Dumont. + +"Berene!" + +"Madam!" + +The two spoke simultaneously, and the invalid had started upright in +bed. + +"Mamma, what is the matter? Oh, please lie down, or you will bring +on another haemorrhage," cried the startled girl; but her mother +lifted her hand. + +"Joy," she said in a firm, clear voice, "this lady is an old +acquaintance of mine. Please go out, dear, and shut the door. I +wish to see her alone." + +Joy passed out with drooping head and a sinking heart. As the door +closed behind her the Baroness spoke. + +"So that is Preston Cheney's daughter," she said. "I always had my +suspicions of the cause which led you to leave my house so suddenly. +Does the girl know who her father is? And does Senator Cheney know +of her existence, may I ask?" + +A crimson flush suffused the invalid's face. Then a flame of fire +shot into the dark eyes, and a small red spot only glowed on either +pale cheek. + +"I do not know by what right you ask these questions, Baroness +Brown," she answered slowly; and her listener cringed under the old +appellation which recalled the miserable days when she had kept a +lodging-house--days she had almost forgotten during the last decade +of life. + +"But I can assure you, madam," continued the speaker, "that my +daughter knows no father save the good man, my husband, who is dead. +I have never by word or line made my existence known to anyone I ever +knew since I left Beryngford. I do not know why you should come here +to insult me, madam; I have never harmed you or yours, and you have +no proof of the accusation you just made, save your own evil +suspicions." + +The Baroness gave an unpleasant laugh. + +"It is an easy matter for me to find proof of my suspicions if I +choose to take the trouble," she said. "There are detectives enough +to hunt up your trail, and I have money enough to pay them for their +trouble. But Joy is the living evidence of the assertion. She is +the image of Preston Cheney, as he was twenty-three years ago. I am +ready, however, to let the matter drop on one condition; and that +condition is, that you extract a promise from your daughter that she +will not encourage the attentions of Arthur Emerson Stuart, the +rector of St Blank's; that she will never under any circumstances be +his wife." + +The red spots faded to a sickly yellow in the invalid's cheeks. "Why +should you ask this of me?" she cried. "Why should you wish to +destroy the happiness of my child's life? She loves Arthur Stuart, +and I know that he loves her! It is the one thought which resigns me +to death; the thought that I may leave her the beloved wife of this +good man." + +The Baroness leaned lower over the pillow of the invalid as she +answered: "I will tell you why I ask this sacrifice of you." + +"Perhaps you do not know that I married Judge Lawrence after the +death of his first wife. Perhaps you do not know that Preston +Cheney's legitimate daughter is as precious to me as his illegitimate +child is to you. Alice is only six months younger than Joy; she is +frail, delicate, sensitive. A severe disappointment would kill her. +She, too, loves Arthur Stuart. If your daughter will let him alone, +he will marry Alice. Surely the illegitimate child should give way +to the legitimate. + +"If you are selfish in this matter, I shall be obliged to tell your +daughter the true story of her life, and let her be the judge of what +is right and what is wrong. I fancy she might have a finer +perception of duty than you have--she is so much like her father." + +The tortured invalid fell back panting on her pillow. She put out +her hands with a distracted, imploring gesture. + +"Leave me to think," she gasped. "I never knew that Preston Cheney +had a daughter; I did not know he lived here. My life has been so +quiet, so secluded these many years. Leave me to think. I will give +you my answer in a few days; I will write you after I reflect and +pray." + +The Baroness passed out, and Joy, hastening into the room, found her +mother in a wild paroxysm of tears. Late that night Mrs Irving +called for writing materials; and for many hours she sat propped up +in bed writing rapidly. + +When she had completed her task she called Joy to her side. + +"Darling," she said, placing a sealed manuscript in her hands, "I +want you to keep this seal unbroken so long as you are happy. I know +in spite of your deep sorrow at my death, which must come ere long, +you will find much happiness in life. You came smiling into +existence, and no common sorrow can deprive you of the joy which is +your birthright. But there are numerous people in the world who may +strive to wound you after I am gone. If slanderous tales or cruel +reports reach your ears, and render you unhappy, break this seal, and +read the story I have written here. There are some things which will +deeply pain you, I know. Do not force yourself to read them until a +necessity arises. I leave you this manuscript as I might leave you a +weapon for self-defence. Use it only when you are in need of that +defence." + +The next morning Mrs Irving was weakened by another and most serious +haemorrhage of the lungs. Her physician was grave, and urged the +daughter to be prepared for the worst. + +"I fear your mother's life is a matter of days only," he said. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + + +The Baroness went directly from the home which she had entered only +to blight, and sent her card marked "urgent" to Mrs Stuart. + +"I have come to tell you an unpleasant story," she said--"a painful +and revolting story, the early chapters of which were written years +ago, but the sequel has only just been made known to me. It concerns +you and yours vitally; it also concerns me and mine. I am sure, when +you have heard the story to the end, you will say that truth is +stranger than fiction, indeed: and you will more than ever realise +the necessity of preventing your son from marrying Joy Irving--a +child who was born before her mother ever met Mr Irving; and whose +mother, I daresay, was no more the actual wife of Mr Irving in the +name of law and decency than she had been the wife of his many +predecessors." + +Startled and horrified at this beginning of the story, Mrs Stuart was +in a state of excited indignation at the end. The Baroness had +magnified facts and distorted truths until she represented Berene +Dumont as a monster of depravity; a vicious being who had been for a +short time the recipient of the Baroness's mistaken charity, and who +had repaid kindness by base ingratitude, and immorality. The man +implicated in the scandal which she claimed was the cause of Berene's +flight was not named in this recital. + +Indeed the Baroness claimed that he was more sinned against than +sinning, and that it was a case of mesmeric influence, or evil eye, +on the part of the depraved woman. + +Mrs Lawrence took pains to avoid any reference to Beryngford also; +speaking of these occurrences having taken place while she spent a +summer in a distant interior town, where, "after the death of the +Baron, she had rented a villa, feeling that she wanted to retire from +the world." + +"My heart is always running away with my head," she remarked, "and I +thought this poor creature, who was shunned and neglected by all, +worth saving. I tried to befriend her, and hoped to waken the better +nature which every woman possesses, I think, but she was too far gone +in iniquity. + +"You cannot imagine, my dear Mrs Stuart, what a shock it was to me on +entering that sickroom to-day, my heart full of kindly sympathy, to +encounter in the invalid the ungrateful recipient of my past favours; +and to realise that her daughter was no other than the shameful +offspring of her immoral past. In spite of the girl's beauty, there +is an expression about her face which I never liked; and I fully +understand now why I did not like it. Of course, Mrs Stuart, this +story is told to you in strict confidence. I would not for the world +have dear Mrs Cheney know of it, nor would I pollute sweet Alice with +such a tale. Indeed, Alice would not understand it if she were told, +for she is as ignorant and innocent as a child in arms of such +matters. We have kept her absolutely unspotted from the world. But +I knew it was my duty to tell you the whole shameful story. If worst +comes to worst, you will be obliged to tell your son perhaps, and if +he doubts the story send him to me for its verification." + +Worst came to the worst before twenty-four hours had passed. The +rector received word that Mrs Irving was rapidly failing, and went to +act the part of spiritual counsellor to the invalid, and sympathetic +friend to the suffering girl. + +When he returned his mother watched his face with eager, anxious +eyes. He looked haggard and ill, as if he had passed through a +severe ordeal. He could talk of nothing but the beautiful and brave +girl, who was about to lose her one worshipped companion, and who ere +many hours passed would stand utterly alone in the world. + +"I never saw you so affected before by the troubles and sorrows of +your parishioners," Mrs Stuart said. "I wonder, Arthur, why you take +the sorrows of this family so keenly to heart." + +The young rector looked his mother full in the face with calm, sad +eyes. Then he said slowly: + +"I suppose, mother, it is because I love Joy Irving with all my +heart. You must have suspected this for some time. I know that you +have, and that the thought has pained you. You have had other and +more ambitious aims for me. Earnest Christian and good woman that +you are, you have a worldly and conventional vein in your nature, +which makes you reverence position, wealth and family to a marked +degree. You would, I know, like to see me unite myself with some +royal family, were that possible; failing in that, you would choose +the daughter of some great and aristocratic house to be my bride. +Ah, well, dear mother, you will, I know, concede that marriage +without love is unholy. I am not able to force myself to love some +great lady, even supposing I could win her if I did love her." + +"But you might keep yourself from forming a foolish and unworthy +attachment," Mrs Stuart interrupted. "With your will-power, your +brain, your reasoning faculties, I see no necessity for your allowing +a pretty face to run away with your heart. Nothing could be more +unsuitable, more shocking, more dreadful, than to have you make that +girl your wife, Arthur." + +Mrs Stuart's voice rose as she spoke, from a quiet reasoning tone to +a high, excited wail. She had not meant to say so much. She had +intended merely to appeal to her son's affection for her, without +making any unpleasant disclosures regarding Joy's mother; she thought +merely to win a promise from him that he would not compromise himself +at present with the girl, through an excess of sympathy. But already +she had said enough to arouse the young man into a defender of the +girl he loved. + +"I think your language quite too strong, mother," he said, with a +reproving tone in his voice. "Miss Irving is good, gifted, amiable, +beautiful, beside being young and full of health. I am sure there +could be nothing shocking or dreadful in any man's uniting his +destiny with such a being, in case he was fortunate enough to win +her. The fact that she is poor, and not of illustrious lineage, is +but a very worldly consideration. Mr Irving was a most intelligent +and excellent man, even if he was a grocer. The American idea of +aristocracy is grotesquely absurd at the best. A man may spend his +time and strength in buying and selling things wherewith to clothe +the body, and, if he succeeds, his children are admitted to the +intimacy of princes; but no success can open that door to the +children of a man who trades in food, wherewith to sustain the body. +We can none of us afford to put on airs here in America, with +butchers and Dutch peasant traders only three or four generations +back of our 'best families.' As for me, mother, remember my loved +father was a broker. That would damn him in the eyes of some people, +you know, cultured gentleman as he was." + +Mrs Stuart sat very still, breathing hard and trying to gain control +of herself for some moments after her son ceased speaking. He, too, +had said more than he intended, and he was sorry that he had hurt his +mother's feelings as he saw her evident agitation. But as he rose to +go forward and beg her pardon, she spoke. + +"The person of whom we were speaking has nothing whatever to do with +Mr Irving," she said. "Joy Irving was born before her mother was +married. Mrs Irving has a most infamous past, and I would rather see +you dead than the husband of her child. You certainly would not want +your children to inherit the propensities of such a grandmother? And +remember the curse descends to the third and fourth generations. If +you doubt my words, go to the Baroness. She knows the whole story, +but has revealed it to no one but me." + +Mrs Stuart left the room, closing the door behind her as she went. +She did not want to be obliged to go over the details of the story +which she had heard; she had made her statement, one which she knew +must startle and horrify her son, with his high ideals of womanly +purity, and she left him to review the situation in silence. It was +several hours before the rector left his room. + +When he did, he went, not to the Baroness, but directly to Mrs +Irving. They were alone for more than an hour. When he emerged from +the room, his face was as white as death, and he did not look at Joy +as she accompanied him to the door. + +Two days later Mrs Irving died. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + + +The congregation of St Blank's Church was rendered sad and solicitous +by learning that its rector was on the eve of nervous prostration, +and that his physician had ordered a change of air. He went away in +company with his mother for a vacation of three months. The day +after his departure Joy Irving received a letter from him which read +as follows:- + + +"My Dear Miss Irving,--You may not in your deep grief have given me a +thought. If such a thought has been granted one so unworthy, it must +have taken the form of surprise that your rector and friend has made +no call of condolence since death entered your household. I want to +write one little word to you, asking you to be lenient in your +judgment of me. I am ill in body and mind. I feel that I am on the +eve of some distressing malady. I am not able to reason clearly, or +to judge what is right and what is wrong. I am as one tossed between +the laws of God and the laws made by men, and bruised in heart and in +soul. I dare not see you or speak to you while I am in this state of +mind. I fear for what I may say or do. I have not slept since I +last saw you. I must go away and gain strength and equilibrium. +When I return I shall hope to be master of myself. Until then, +adieu. "ARTHUR EMERSON STUART." + + +These wild and incoherent phrases stirred the young girl's heart with +intense pain and anxiety. She had known for almost a year that she +loved the young rector; she had believed that he cared for her, and +without allowing herself to form any definite thoughts of the future, +she had lived in a blissful consciousness of loving and being loved, +which is to the fulfilment of a love dream, like inhaling the perfume +of a rose, compared to the gathered flower and its attending thorns. + +The young clergyman's absence at the time of her greatest need had +caused her both wonder and pain. His letter but increased both +sentiments without explaining the cause. + +It increased, too, her love for him, for whenever over-anxiety is +aroused for one dear to us, our love is augmented. + +She felt that the young man was in some great trouble, unknown to +her, and she longed to be able to comfort him. Into the maiden's +tender and ardent affection stole the wifely wish to console and the +motherly impulse to protect her dear one from pain, which are strong +elements in every real woman's love. + +Mrs Irving had died without writing one word to the Baroness; and +that personage was in a state of constant excitement until she heard +of the rector's plans for rest and travel. Mrs Stuart informed her +of the conversation which had taken place between herself and her +son; and of his evident distress of mind, which had reacted on his +body and made it necessary for him to give up mental work for a +season. + +"I feel that I owe you a debt of gratitude, dear Baroness," Mrs +Stuart had said. "Sad as this condition of things is, imagine how +much worse it would be, had my son, through an excess of sympathy for +that girl at this time, compromised himself with her before we +learned the terrible truth regarding her birth. I feel sure my son +will regain his health after a few months' absence, and that he will +not jeopardise my happiness and his future by any further thoughts of +this unfortunate girl, who in the meantime may not be here when we +return." + +The Baroness made a mental resolve that the girl should not be there. + +While the rector's illness and proposed absence was sufficient +evidence that he had resolved upon sacrificing his love for Joy on +the altar of duty to his mother and his calling, yet the Baroness +felt that danger lurked in the air while Miss Irving occupied her +present position. No sooner had Mrs Stuart and her son left the +city, than the Baroness sent an anonymous letter to the young +organist. It read: + + +"I do not know whether your mother imparted the secret of her past +life to you before she died, but as that secret is known to several +people, it seems cruelly unjust that you are kept in ignorance of it. +You are not Mr Irving's child. You were born before your mother +married. While it is not your fault, only your misfortune, it would +be wise for you to go where the facts are not so well known as in the +congregation of St Blank's. There are people in that congregation +who consider you guilty of a wilful deception in wearing the name you +do, and of an affront to good taste in accepting the position you +occupy. Many people talk of leaving the church on your account. +Your gifts as a musician would win you a position elsewhere, and as I +learn that your mother's life was insured for a considerable sum, I +am sure you are able to seek new fields where you can bide your +disgrace. + +"A WELL-WISHER." + + +Quivering with pain and terror, the young girl cast the letter into +the fire, thinking that it was the work of one of those half-crazed +beings whose mania takes the form of anonymous letters to unoffending +people. Only recently such a person had been brought into the courts +for this offence. It occurred to her also that it might be the work +of someone who wished to obtain her position as organist of St +Blank's. Musicians, she knew, were said to be the most jealous of +all people, and while she had never suffered from them before, it +might be that her time had now come to experience the misfortunes of +her profession. + +Tender-hearted and kindly in feeling to all humanity, she felt a +sickening sense of sorrow and fear at the thought that there existed +such a secret enemy for her anywhere in the world. + +She went out upon the street, and for the first time in her life she +experienced a sense of suspicion and distrust toward the people she +met; for the first time in her life, she realised that the world was +not all kind and ready to give her back the honest friendship and the +sweet good-will which filled her heart for all her kind. Strive as +she would, she could not cast off the depression caused by this vile +letter. It was her first experience of this cowardly and despicable +phase of human malice, and she felt wounded in soul as by a poisoned +arrow shot in the dark. And then, suddenly, there came to her the +memory of her mother's words--"If unhappiness ever comes to you, read +this letter." + +Surely this was the time she needed to read that letter. That it +contained some secret of her mother's life she felt sure, and she was +equally sure that it contained nothing that would cause her to blush +for that beloved mother. + +"Whatever the manuscript may have to reveal to me," she said, "it is +time that I should know." She took the package from the hiding +place, and broke the seal. Slowly she read it to the end, as if +anxious to make no error in understanding every phase of the long +story it related. Beginning with the marriage of her mother to the +French professor, Berene gave a detailed account of her own sad and +troubled life, and the shadow which the father's appetite for drugs +cast over her whole youth. "They say," she wrote, "that there is no +personal devil in existence. I think this is true; he has taken the +form of drugs and spirituous liquors, and so his work of devastation +goes on." Then followed the story of the sacrilegious marriage to +save her father from suicide, of her early widowhood; and the proffer +of the Baroness to give her a home. Of her life of servitude there, +her yearning for an education, and her meeting with "Apollo," as she +designated Preston Cheney. "For truly he was like the glory of the +rising day to me, the first to give me hope, courage and unselfish +aid. I loved him, I worshipped him. He loved me, but he strove to +crush and kill this love because he had worked out an ambitious +career for himself. To extricate himself from many difficulties and +embarrassments, and to further his ambitious dreams, he betrothed +himself to the daughter of a rich and powerful man. He made no +profession of love, and she asked none. She was incapable of giving +or inspiring that holy passion. She only asked to be married. + +"I only asked to be loved. Knowing nothing of the terrible conflict +in his breast, knowing nothing of his new-made ties, I was wounded to +the soul by his speaking unkindly to me--words he forced himself to +speak to hide his real feelings. And then it was that a strange fate +caused him to find me fainting, suffering, and praying for death. +The love in both hearts could no longer be restrained. Augmented by +its long control, sharpened by the agony we had both suffered, +overwhelmed by the surprise of the meeting, we lost reason and +prudence. Everything was forgotten save our love. When it was too +late I foresaw the anguish and sorrow I must bring into this man's +life. I fear it was this thought rather than repentance for sin +which troubled me. Well may you ask why I did not think of all this +before instead of after the error was committed. Why did not Eve +realise the consequences of the fall until she had eaten of the +apple? Only afterward did I learn of the unholy ties which my lover +had formed that very day--ties which he swore to me should be broken +ere another day passed, to render him free to make me his wife in the +eyes of men, as I already was in the sight of God. + +"Yet a strange and sudden resolve came to me as I listened to him. +Far beyond the thought of my own ruin, rose the consciousness of the +ruin I should bring upon his life by allowing him to carry out his +design. To be his wife, his helpmate, chosen from the whole world as +one he deemed most worthy and most able to cheer and aid him in +life's battle--that seemed heaven to me; but to know that by one +rash, impetuous act of folly, I had placed him in a position where he +felt that honour compelled him to marry me--why, this thought was +more bitter than death. I knew that he loved me; yet I knew, too, +that by a union with me under the circumstances he would antagonise +those who were now his best and most influential friends, and that +his entire career would be ruined. I resolved to go away; to +disappear from his life and leave no trace. If his love was as +sincere as mine, he would find me; and time would show him some wiser +way for breaking his new-made fetters than the rash and sudden method +he now contemplated. He had forgotten to protect me with his love, +but I could not forget to protect him. In every true woman's love +there is the maternal element which renders sacrifice natural. + +"Fate hastened and furthered my plans for departure. Made aware that +the Baroness was suspicious of my fault, and learning that my lover +was suddenly called to the bedside of his fiancee, I made my escape +from the town and left no trace behind. I went to that vast haystack +of lost needles--New York, and effaced Berene Dumont in Mrs Lamont. +The money left from my father's belongings I resolved to use in +cultivating my voice. I advertised for embroidery and fine sewing +also, and as I was an expert with the needle, I was able to support +myself and lay aside a little sum each week. I trimmed hats at a +small price, and added to my income in various manners, owing to my +French taste and my deft fingers. + +"I was desolate, sad, lonely, but not despairing. What woman can +despair when she knows herself loved? To me that consciousness was a +far greater source of happiness than would have been the knowledge +that I was an empress, or the wife of a millionaire, envied by the +whole world. I believed my lover would find me in time, that we +should be reunited. I believed this until I saw the announcement of +his marriage in the press, and read that he and his bride had sailed +for an extended foreign tour; but with this stunning news, there came +to me the strange, sweet, startling consciousness that you, my +darling child, were coming to console me. + +"I know that under the circumstances I ought to have been borne down +to the earth with a guilty shame; I ought to have considered you as a +punishment for my sin--and walked in the valley of humiliation and +despair. + +"But I did not. I lived in a state of mental exaltation; every +thought was a prayer, every emotion was linked with religious +fervour. I was no longer alone or friendless, for I had you. I sang +as I had never sung, and one theatrical manager, who happened to call +upon my teacher during my lesson hour, offered me a position at a +good salary at once if I would accept. + +"I could not accept, of course, knowing what the coming months were +to bring to me, but I took his card and promised to write him when I +was ready to take a position. You came into life in the depressing +atmosphere of a city hospital, my dear child, yet even there I was +not depressed, and your face wore a smile of joy the first time I +gazed upon it. So I named you Joy--and well have you worn the name. +My first sorrow was in being obliged to leave you; for I had to leave +you with those human angels, the sweet sisters of charity, while I +went forth to make a home for you. My voice, as is sometimes the +case, was richer, stronger and of greater compass after I had passed +through maternity. I accepted a position with a travelling +theatrical company, where I was to sing a solo in one act. My +success was not phenomenal, but it WAS success nevertheless. I +followed this life for three years, seeing you only at intervals. +Then the consciousness came to me that without long and profound +study I could never achieve more than a third-rate success in my +profession. + +"I had dreamed of becoming a great singer; but I learned that a voice +alone does not make a great singer. I needed years of study, and +this would necessitate the expenditure of large sums of money. I had +grown heart-sick and disgusted with the annoyances and vulgarity I +was subjected to in my position. When you were four years old a good +man offered me a good home as his wife. It was the first honest love +I had encountered, while scores of men had made a pretence of loving +me during these years. + +"I was hungering for a home where I could claim you and have the joy +of your daily companionship instead of brief glimpses of you at the +intervals of months. My voice, never properly trained, was beginning +to break. I resolved to put Mr Irving to a test; I would tell him +the true story of your birth, and if he still wished me to be his +wife, I would marry him. + +"I carried out my resolve, and we were married the day after he had +heard my story. I lived a peaceful and even happy life with Mr +Irving. He was devoted to you, and never by look, word or act, +seemed to remember my past. I, too, at times almost forgot it, so +strange a thing is the human heart under the influence of time. +Imagine, then, the shock of remembrance and the tidal wave of +memories which swept over me when in the lady you brought to call +upon me I recognised--the Baroness. + +"It is because she threatened to tell you that you were not born in +wedlock that I leave this manuscript for you. It is but a few weeks +since you told me the story of Marah Adams, and assured me that you +thought her mother did right in confessing the truth to her daughter. +Little did you dream with what painful interest I listened to your +views on that subject. Little did I dream that I should so soon be +called upon to act upon them. + +"But the time is now come, and I want no strange hand to deal you a +blow in the dark; if any part of the story comes to you, I want you +to know the whole truth. You will wonder why I have not told you the +name of your father. It is strange, but from the hour I knew of his +marriage, and of your dawning life, I have felt a jealous fear lest +he should ever take you from me; even after I am gone, I would not +have him know of your existence and be unable to claim you openly. +Any acquaintance between you could only result in sorrow. + +"I have never blamed him for my past weakness, however I have blamed +him for his unholy marriage. Our fault was mutual. I was no +ignorant child; while young in years, I had sufficient knowledge of +human nature to protect myself had I used my will-power and my +reason. Like many another woman, I used neither; unlike the +majority, I did not repent my sin or its consequences. I have ever +believed you to be a more divinely born being than any children who +may have resulted from my lover's unholy marriage. I die strong in +the belief. God bless you, my dear child, and farewell." + +Joy sat silent and pale like one in a trance for a long time after +she had finished reading. Then she said aloud, "So I am another like +Marah Adams; it was this knowledge which caused the rector to write +me that strange letter. It was this knowledge which sent him away +without coming to say one word of adieu. The woman who sent me the +message, sent it to him also. Well, I can be as brave as my mother +was. I, too, can disappear." + +She arose and began silently and rapidly to make preparations for a +journey. She felt a nervous haste to get away from something--from +all things. Everything stable in the world seemed to have slipped +from her hold in the last few days. Home, mother, love, and now hope +and pride were gone too. She worked for more than two hours without +giving vent to even a sigh. Then suddenly she buried her face in her +hands and sobbed aloud: "Oh, mother, mother, you were not ashamed, +but I am ashamed for you! Why was I ever born? God forgive me for +the sinful thought, but I wish you had lied to me in place of telling +me the truth." + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + + +Just as Mrs Irving had written her story for her daughter to read, +she told it, in the main, to the rector a few days before her death. + +Only once before had the tale passed her lips; then her listener was +Horace Irving; and his only comment was to take her in his arms and +place the kiss of betrothal on her lips. Never again was the painful +subject referred to between them. So imbued had Berene Dumont become +with her belief in the legitimacy of her child, and in her own +purity, that she felt but little surprise at the calm manner in which +Mr Irving received her story, and now when the rector of St Blank's +Church was her listener, she expected the same broad judgment to be +given her. But it was the calmness of a great and all-forgiving love +which actuated Mr Irving, and overcame all other feelings. + +Wholly unconventional in nature, caring nothing and knowing little of +the extreme ideas of orthodox society on these subjects, the girl +Berene and the woman Mrs Irving had lived a life so wholly secluded +from the world at large, so absolutely devoid of intimate +friendships, so absorbed in her own ideals, that she was incapable of +understanding the conventional opinion regarding a woman with a +history like hers. + +In all those years she had never once felt a sensation of shame. Mr +Irving had requested her to rear Joy in the belief that she was his +child. As the matter could in no way concern anyone else, Mrs +Irving's lips had remained sealed on the subject; but not with any +idea of concealing a disgrace. She could not associate disgrace with +her love for Preston Cheney. She believed herself to be his +spiritual widow, as it were. His mortal clay and legal name only +belonged to his wife. + +Mr Irving had met Berene on a railroad train, and had conceived one +of those sudden and intense passions with which a woman with a past +often inspires an innocent and unworldly young man. He was sincerely +and truly religious by nature, and as spotless as a maiden in mind +and body. + +When he had dreamed of a wife, it was always of some shy, innocent +girl whom he should woo almost from her mother's arms; some gentle, +pious maid, carefully reared, who would help him to establish the +Christian household of his imagination. He had thought that love +would first come to him as admiring respect, then tender friendship, +then love for some such maiden; instead it had swooped down upon him +in the form of an intense passion for an absolute stranger--a woman +travelling with a theatrical company. He was like a sleeper who +awakens suddenly and finds a scorching midday sun beating upon his +eyes. A wrecked freight train upon the track detained for several +hours the car in which they travelled. The passengers waived +ceremony and conversed to pass the time, and Mr Irving learnt +Berene's name, occupation and destination. He followed her for a +week, and at the end of that time asked her hand in marriage. + +Even after he had heard the story of her life, he was not deterred +from his resolve to make her his wife. All the Christian charity of +his nature, all its chivalry was aroused, and he believed he was +plucking a brand from the burning. He never repented his act. He +lived wholly for his wife and child, and for the good he could do +with them as his faithful allies. He drew more and more away from +all the allurements of the world, and strove to rear Joy in what he +believed to be a purely Christian life, and to make his wife forget, +if possible, that she had ever known a sorrow. All of sincere +gratitude, tenderness, and gentle affection possible for her to feel, +Berene bestowed upon her husband during his life, and gave to his +memory after he was gone. + +Joy had been excessively fond of Mr Irving, and it was the dread of +causing her a deep sorrow in the knowledge that she was not his +child, and the fear that Preston Cheney would in any way interfere +with her possession of Joy, which had distressed the mother during +the visit of the Baroness, rather than unwillingness to have her sin +revealed to her daughter. Added to this, the intrusion of the +Baroness into this long hidden and sacred experience seemed a +sacrilege from which she shrank with horror. But she now told the +tale to Arthur Stuart frankly and fearlessly. + +He had asked her to confide to him whatever secret existed regarding +Joy's birth. + +"There is a rumour afloat," he said, "that Joy is not Mr Irving's +child. I love your daughter, Mrs Irving, and I feel it is my right +to know all the circumstances of her life. I believe the story which +was told my mother to be the invention of some enemy who is jealous +of Joy's beauty and talents, and I would like to be in a position to +silence these slanders." + +So Mrs Irving told the story to the end; and having told it, she felt +relieved and happy in the thought that it was imparted to the only +two people whom it could concern in the future. + +No disturbing fear came to her that the rector would hesitate to make +Joy his wife. To Berene Dumont, love was the law. If love existed +between two souls she could not understand why any convention of +society should stand in the way of its fulfilment. + +Arthur Stuart in his role of spiritual confessor and consoler had +never before encountered such a phase of human nature. He had +listened to many a tale of sin and folly from women's lips, but +always had the sinner bemoaned her sin, and bitterly repented her +weakness. Here instead was what the world would consider a fallen +woman, who on her deathbed regarded her weakness as her strength, her +shame as her glory, and who seemed to expect him to take the same +view of the matter. When he attempted to urge her to repent, the +words stuck in his throat. He left the deathbed of the unfortunate +sinner without having expressed one of the conflicting emotions which +filled his heart. But he left it with such a weight on his soul, +such distress on his mind that death seemed to him the only way of +escape from a life of torment. + +His love for Joy Irving was not killed by the story he had heard. +But it had received a terrible shock, and the thought of making her +his wife with the probability that the Baroness would spread the +scandal broadcast, and that his marriage would break his mother's +heart, tortured him. Added to this were his theories on heredity, +and the fear that there might, nay, must be, some dangerous tendency +hidden in the daughter of a mother who had so erred, and who in dying +showed no comprehension of the enormity of her sin. Had Mrs Irving +bewailed her fall, and represented herself as the victim of a wily +villain, the rector would not have felt so great a fear of the +daughter's inheritance. A frail, repentant woman he could pity and +forgive, but it seemed to him that Mrs Irving was utterly lacking in +moral nature. She was spiritually blind. The thought tortured him. +To leave Joy at this time without calling to see her seemed base and +cowardly; yet he dared not trust himself in her presence. So he sent +her the strangely worded letter, and went away hoping to be shown the +path of duty before he returned. + +At the end of three months he came home stronger in body and mind. +He had resolved to compromise with fate; to continue his calls upon +Joy Irving; to be her friend and rector only, until by the passage of +time, and the changes which occur so rapidly in every society, the +scandal in regard to her birth had been forgotten. And until by +patience and tenderness, he won his mother's consent to the union. +He felt that all this must come about as he desired, if he did not +aggravate his mother's feeling or defy public opinion by too +precipitate methods. + +He could not wholly give up all thoughts of Joy Irving. She had +grown to be a part of his hopes and dreams of the future, as she was +a part of the reality of his present. But she was very young; he +could afford to wait, and while he waited to study the girl's +character, and if he saw any budding shoot which bespoke the maternal +tree, to prune and train it to his own liking. For the sake of his +unborn children he felt it his duty to carefully study any woman he +thought to make his wife. + +But when he reached home, the surprising intelligence awaited him +that Miss Irving had left the metropolis. A brief note to the church +authorities, resigning her position, and saying that she was about to +leave the city, was all that anyone knew of her. + +The rector instituted a quiet search, but only succeeded in learning +that she had conducted her preparations for departure with the +greatest secrecy, and that to no one had she imparted her plans. + +Whenever a young woman shrouds her actions in the garments of +secrecy, she invites suspicion. The people who love to suspect their +fellow-beings of wrong-doing were not absent on this occasion. + +The rector was hurt and wounded by all this, and while he resented +the intimation from another that Miss Irving's conduct had been +peculiar and mysterious, he felt it to be so in his own heart. + +"Is it her mother's tendency to adventure developing in her?" he +asked himself. + +Yet he wrote her a letter, directing it to her at the old number, +thinking she would at least leave her address with the post-office +for the forwarding of mail. The letter was returned to him from that +cemetery of many a dear hope, the dead-letter office. A personal in +a leading paper failed to elicit a reply. And then one day six +months after the disappearance of Joy Irving, the young rector was +called to the Cheney household to offer spiritual consolation to Miss +Alice, who believed herself to be dying. She had been in a decline +ever since the rector went away for his health. + +Since his return she had seen him but seldom, rarely save in the +pulpit, and for the last six weeks she had been too ill to attend +divine service. + +It was Preston Cheney himself, at home upon one of his periodical +visits, who sent for the rector, and gravely met him at the door when +he arrived, and escorted him into his study. + +"I am very anxious about my daughter," he said. "She has been a +nervous child always, and over-sensitive. I returned yesterday after +an absence of some three months in California, to find Alice in bed, +wasted to a shadow, and constantly weeping. I cannot win her +confidence--she has never confided to me. Perhaps it is my fault; +perhaps I have not been at home enough to make her realise that the +relationship of father and daughter is a sacred one. This morning +when I was urging her to tell me what grieved her, she remarked that +there was but one person to whom she could communicate this sorrow-- +her rector. So, my dear Dr Stuart, I have sent for you. I will +conduct you to my child, and I leave her in your hands. Whatever +comfort and consolation you can offer, I know will be given. I hope +she will not bind you to secrecy; I hope you may be able to tell me +what troubles her, and advise me how to help her." + +It was more than an hour before the rector returned to the library +where Preston Cheney awaited him. When the senator heard his +approaching step, he looked up, and was startled to see the pallor on +the young man's face. "You have something sad, something terrible to +tell me!" he cried. "What is it?" + +The rector walked across the room several times, breathing deeply, +and with anguish written on his countenance. Then he took Senator +Cheney's hand and wrung it. "I have an embarrassing announcement to +make to you," he said. "It is something so surprising, so +unexpected, that I am completely unnerved." + +"You alarm me, more and more," the senator answered. "What can be +the secret which my frail child has imparted to you that should so +distress you? Speak; it is my right to know." + +The rector took another turn about the room, and then came and stood +facing Senator Cheney. + +"Your daughter has conceived a strange passion for me," he said in a +low voice. "It is this which has caused her illness, and which she +says will cause her death, if I cannot return it." + +"And you?" asked his listener after a moment's silence. + +"I? Why, I have never thought of your daughter in any such manner," +the young man replied. "I have never dreamed of loving her, or +winning her love." + +"Then do not marry her," Preston Cheney said quietly. "Marriage +without love is unholy. Even to save life it is unpardonable." + +The rector was silent, and walked the room with nervous steps. "I +must go home and think it all out," he said after a time. "Perhaps +Miss Cheney will find her grief less, now that she has imparted it to +me. I am alarmed at her condition, and I shall hope for an early +report from you regarding her." + +The report was made twelve hours later. Miss Cheney was delirious, +and calling constantly for the rector. Her physician feared the +worst. + +The rector came, and his presence at once soothed the girl's +delirium. + +"History repeats itself," said Preston Cheney meditatively to +himself. "Alice is drawing this man into the net by her alarming +physical condition, as Mabel riveted the chains about me when her +mother died. + +"But Alice really loves the rector, I think, and she is capable of a +much stronger passion than her mother ever felt; and the rector loves +no other woman at least, and so this marriage, if it takes place, +will not be so wholly wicked and unholy as mine was." + +The marriage did take place three months later. Alice Cheney was not +the wife whom Mrs Stuart would have chosen for her son, yet she urged +him to this step, glad to place a barrier for all time between him +and Joy Irving, whose possible return at any day she constantly +feared, and whose power over her son's heart she knew was +undiminished. + +Alice Cheney's family was of the best on both sides; there were +wealth, station, and honour; and a step-grandmamma who could be +referred to on occasions as "The Baroness." And there was no +skeleton to be hidden or excused. + +And Arthur Stuart, believing that Alice Cheney's life and reason +depended upon his making her his wife, resolved to end the bitter +struggle with his own heart and with fate, and do what seemed to be +his duty, toward the girl and toward his mother. When the wedding +took place, the saddest face at the ceremony, save that of the groom, +was the face of the bride's father. But the bride was radiant, and +Mabel and the Baroness walked in clouds. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + + +Alice did not rally in health or spirits after her marriage, as her +family, friends and physician had anticipated. She remained nervous, +ailing and despondent. + +"Should maternity come to her, she would doubtless be very much +improved in health afterward," the doctor said, and Mabel, +remembering how true a similar prediction proved in her case, despite +her rebellion against it, was not sorry when she knew that Alice was +to become a mother, scarcely a year after her marriage. + +But Alice grew more and more despondent as the months passed by; and +after the birth of her son, the young mother developed dementia of +the most hopeless kind. The best specialists in two worlds were +employed to bring her out of the state of settled melancholy into +which she had fallen, but all to no avail. At the end of two years, +her case was pronounced hopeless. Fortunately the child died at the +age of six weeks, so the seed of insanity which in the first Mrs +Lawrence was simply a case of "nerves," growing into the plant +hysteria in Mabel, and yielding the deadly fruit of insanity in +Alice, was allowed by a kind providence to become extinct in the +fourth generation. + +This disaster to his only child caused a complete breaking down of +spirit and health in Preston Cheney. + +Like some great, strongly coupled car, which loses its grip and goes +plunging down an incline to destruction, Preston Cheney's will-power +lost its hold on life, and he went down to the valley of death with +frightful speed. + +During the months which preceded his death, Senator Cheney's only +pleasure seemed to be in the companionship of his son-in-law. The +strong attachment between the two men ripened with every day's +association. One day the rector was sitting by the invalid's couch, +reading aloud, when Preston Cheney laid his hand on the young man's +arm and said: "Close your book and let me tell you a true story +which is stranger than fiction. It is the story of an ambitious man +and all the disasters which his realised ambition brought into the +lives of others. It is a story whose details are known to but two +beings on earth, if indeed the other being still exists on earth. I +have long wanted to tell you this story--indeed, I wanted to tell it +to you before you made Alice your wife, yet the fear that I would be +wrecking the life and reason of my child kept me silent. No doubt if +I had told you, and you had been influenced by my experience against +a loveless marriage, I should to-day be blaming myself for her +condition, which I see plainly now is but the culmination of three +generations of hysterical women. But I want to tell you the story +and urge you to use it as a warning in your position of counsellor +and friend of ambitious young men. + +"No matter what else a man may do for position, don't let him marry a +woman he does not love, especially if he crucifies a vital passion +for another, in order to do this." Then Preston Cheney told the +story of his life to his son-in-law; and as the tale proceeded, a +strange interest which increased until it became violent excitement, +took possession of the rector's brain and heart. The story was so +familiar--so very familiar; and at length, when the name of BERENE +DUMONT escaped the speaker's lips, Arthur Stuart clutched his hands +and clenched his teeth to keep silent until the end of the story +came. + +"From the hour Berene disappeared, to this very day, no word or +message ever came from her," the invalid said. "I have never known +whether she was dead or alive, married, or, terrible thought, perhaps +driven into a reckless life by her one false step with me. This last +fear has been a constant torture to me all these years. + +"The world is cruel in its judgment of woman. And yet I know that it +is woman herself who has shaped the opinions of the world regarding +these matters. If men had had their way since the world began, there +would be no virtuous women. Woman has realised this fact, and she +has in consequence walled herself about with rules and conventions +which have in a measure protected her from man. When any woman +breaks through these conventions and errs, she suffers the scorn of +others who have kept these self-protecting and society-protecting +laws; and, conscious of their scorn, she believes all hope is lost +for ever. + +"The fear that Berene took this view of her one mistake, and plunged +into a desperate life, has embittered my whole existence. Never +before did a man suffer such a mental hell as I have endured for this +one act of sin and weakness. Yet the world, looking at my life of +success, would say if it knew the story, 'Behold how the man goes +free.' Free! Great God! there is no bondage so terrible as that of +the mind. I have loved Berene Dumont with a changeless passion for +twenty-three years, and there has not been a day in all that time +that I have not during some hours endured the agonies of the damned, +thinking of all the disasters and misery that might have come into +her life through me. Heaven knows I would have married her if she +had remained. Strange and intricate as the net was which the devil +wove about me when I had furnished the cords, I could and would have +broken through it after that strange night--at once the heaven and +the hell of my memory--if Berene had remained. As it was--I married +Mabel, and you know what a farce, ending in a tragedy, our married +life has been. God grant that no worse woes befell Berene; God grant +that I may meet her in the spirit world and tell her how I loved her +and longed for her companionship." + +The young rector's eyes were streaming with tears, as he reached over +and clasped the sick man's hands in his. "You will meet her," he +said with a choked voice. "I heard this same story, but without +names, from Berene Dumont's dying lips more than two years ago. And +just as Berene disappeared from you--so her daughter disappeared from +me; and, God help me, dear father--doubly now my father, I crushed +out my great passion for the glorious natural child of your love, to +marry the loveless, wretched and UNNATURAL child of your marriage." + +The sick man started up on his couch, his eyes flaming, his cheeks +glowing with sudden lustre. + +"My child--the natural child of Berene's love and mine, you say; oh, +my God, speak and tell me what you mean; speak before I die of joy so +terrible it is like anguish." + +So then it became the rector's turn to take the part of narrator. +When the story was ended, Preston Cheney lay weeping like a woman on +his couch; the first tears he had shed since his mother died and left +him an orphan of ten. + +"Berene living and dying almost within reach of my arms--almost +within sound of my voice!" he cried. "Oh, why did I not find her +before the grave closed between us?--and why did no voice speak from +that grave to tell me when I held my daughter's hand in mine?--my +beautiful child, no wonder my heart went out to her with such a gush +of tenderness; no wonder I was fired with unaccountable anger and +indignation when Mabel and Alice spoke unkindly of her. Do you +remember how her music stirred me? It was her mother's heart +speaking to mine through the genius of our child. + +"Arthur, you must find her--you must find her for me! If it takes my +whole fortune I must see my daughter, and clasp her in my arms before +I die." + +But this happiness was not to be granted to the dying man. Overcome +by the excitement of this new emotion, he grew weaker and weaker as +the next few days passed, and at the end of the fifth day his spirit +took its flight, let us hope to join its true mate. + +It had been one of his dying requests to have his body taken to +Beryngford and placed beside that of Judge Lawrence. + +The funeral services took place in the new and imposing church +edifice which had been constructed recently in Beryngford. The quiet +interior village had taken a leap forward during the last few years, +and was now a thriving city, owing to the discovery of valuable stone +quarries in its borders. + +The Baroness and Mabel had never been in Beryngford since the death +of Judge Lawrence many years before; and it was with sad and bitter +hearts that both women recalled the past and realised anew the +disasters which had wrecked their dearest hopes and ambitions. + +The Baroness, broken in spirit and crushed by the insanity of her +beloved Alice, now saw the form of the man whom she had hopelessly +loved for so many years, laid away to crumble back to dust; and yet, +the sorrows which should have softened her soul, and made her heart +tender toward all suffering humanity, rendered her pitiless as the +grave toward one lonely and desolate being before the shadows of +night had fallen upon the grave of Preston Cheney. + +When the funeral march pealed out from the grand new organ during the +ceremonies in the church, both the Baroness and the rector, absorbed +as they were in mournful sorrow, started with surprise. Both gazed +at the organ loft; and there, before the great instrument, sat the +graceful figure of Joy Irving. The rector's face grew pale as the +corpse in the casket; the withered cheek of the Baroness turned a +sickly yellow, and a spark of anger dried the moisture in her eyes. + +Before the night had settled over the thriving city of Beryngford, +the Baroness dropped a point of virus from the lancet of her tongue +to poison the social atmosphere where Joy Irving had by the merest +accident of fate made her new home, and where in the office of +organist she had, without dreaming of her dramatic situation, played +the requiem at the funeral of her own father. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + + +Joy Irving had come to Beryngford at the time when the discoveries of +the quarries caused that village to spring into sudden prominence as +a growing city. Newspaper accounts of the building of the new +church, and the purchase of a large pipe organ, chanced to fall under +her eye just as she was planning to leave the scene of her +unhappiness. + +"I can at least only fail if I try for the position of organist +there," she said, "and if I succeed in this interior town, I can hide +myself from all the world without incurring heavy expense." + +So all unconsciously Joy fled from the metropolis to the very place +from which her mother had vanished twenty-two years before. + +She had been the organist in the grand new Episcopalian Church now +for three years; and she had made many cordial acquaintances who +would have become near friends, if she had encouraged them. But +Joy's sweet and trustful nature had received a great shock in the +knowledge of the shadow which hung about her birth. Where formerly +she had expected love and appreciation from everyone she met, she now +shrank from forming new ties, lest new hurts should await her. + +She was like a flower in whose perfect heart a worm had coiled. Her +entire feeling about life had undergone a change. For many weeks +after her self-imposed exile, she had been unable to think of her +mother without a mingled sense of shame and resentment; the adoring +love she had borne this being seemed to die with her respect. After +a time the bitterness of this sentiment wore away, and a pitying +tenderness and sorrow took its place; but from her heart the twin +angels, Love and Forgiveness, were absent. She read her mother's +manuscript over, and tried to argue herself into the philosophy which +had sustained the author of her being through all these years. + +But her mind was shaped far more after the conventional pattern of +her paternal ancestors, who had been New England Puritans, and she +could not view the subject as Berene had viewed it. + +In spite of the ideality which her mother had woven about him, Joy +entertained the most bitter contempt for the unknown man who was her +father, and the whole tide of her affections turned lavishly upon the +memory of Mr Irving, whom she felt now more than ever so worthy of +her regard. + +Reason as she would on the supremacy of love over law, yet the bold, +unpleasant fact remained that she was the child of an unwedded +mother. She shrank in sensitive pain from having this story follow +her, and the very consciousness that her mother's experience had been +an exceptional one, caused her the greater dread of having it known +and talked of as a common vulgar liaison. + +There are two things regarding which the world at large never asks +any questions--namely, How a rich man made his money, and how an +erring woman came to fall. It is enough for the world to know that +he is rich--that fact alone opens all doors to him, as the fact that +the woman has erred closes them to her. + +There was a common vulgar creature in Beryngford, whose many amours +and bold defiance of law and order rendered her name a synonym for +indecency. This woman had begun her career in early girlhood as a +mercenary intriguer; and yet Joy Irving knew that the majority of +people would make small distinctions between the conduct of this +creature and that of her mother, were the facts of Berene's life and +her own birth to be made public. + +The fear that the story would follow her wherever she went became an +absolute dread with her, and caused her to live alone and without +companions, in the midst of people who would gladly have become her +warm friends, had she permitted. + +Her book of "Impressions" reflected the changes which had taken place +in the complexion of her mind during these years. Among its entries +were the following:- + + +People talk about following a divine law of love, when they wish to +excuse their brute impulses and break social and civil codes. + +No love is sanctioned by God, which shatters human hearts. + +Fathers are only distantly related to their children; love for the +male parent is a matter of education. + +The devil macadamises all his pavements. + +A natural child has no place in an unnatural world. + +When we cannot respect our parents, it is difficult to keep our ideal +of God. + +Love is a mushroom, and lust is its poisonous counterpart. + +It is a pity that people who despise civilisation should be so +uncivil as to stay in it. There is always darkest Africa. + +The extent of a man's gallantry depends on the goal. He follows the +good woman to the borders of Paradise and leaves her with a polite +bow; but he follows the bad woman to the depths of hell. + +It is easy to trust in God until he permits us to suffer. The +dentist seems a skilled benefactor to mankind when we look at his +sign from the street. When we sit in his chair he seems a brute, +armed with devil's implements. + +An anonymous letter is the bastard of a diseased mind. + +An envious woman is a spark from Purgatory. + +The consciousness that we have anything to hide from the world +stretches a veil between our souls and heaven. We cannot reach up to +meet the gaze of God, when we are afraid to meet the eyes of men. + +It may be all very well for two people to make their own laws, but +they have no right to force a third to live by them. + +Virtue is very secretive about her payments, but the whole world +hears of it when vice settles up. + +We have a sublime contempt for public opinion theoretically so long +as it favours us. When it turns against us we suffer intensely from +the loss of what we claimed to despise. + +When the fruit must apologise for the tree, we do not care to save +the seed. + +It is only when God and man have formed a syndicate and agreed upon +their laws, that marriage is a safe investment. + +The love that does not protect its object would better change its +name. + +When we say OF people what we would not say TO them, we are either +liars or cowards. + +The enmity of some people is the greatest compliment they can pay us. + + +It was in thoughts like these that Joy relieved her heart of some of +the bitterness and sorrow which weighed upon it. And day after day +she bore about with her the dread of having the story of her mother's +sin known in her new home. + +As our fears, like our wishes, when strong and unremitting, prove to +be magnets, the result of Joy's despondent fears came in the scandal +which the Baroness had planted and left to flourish and grow in +Beryngford after her departure. An hour before the services began, +on the day of Preston Cheney's burial, Joy learned at whose rites she +was to officiate as organist. A pang of mingled emotions shot +through her heart at the sound of his name. She had seen this man +but a few times, and spoken with him but once; yet he had left a +strong impression upon her memory. She had felt drawn to him by his +sympathetic face and atmosphere, the sorrow of his kind eyes, and the +keen appreciation he had shown in her art; and just in the measure +that she had been attracted by him, she had been repelled by the +three women to whom she was presented at the same time. She saw them +all again mentally, as she had seen them on that and many other days. +Mrs Cheney and Alice, with their fretful, plain, dissatisfied faces, +and their over-burdened costumes, and the Baroness, with her cruel +heart gazing through her worn mask of defaced beauty. + +She had been conscious of a feeling of overwhelming pity for the +kind, attractive man who made the fourth of that quartette. She knew +that he had obtained honours and riches from life, but she pitied him +for his home environment. She had felt so thankful for her own happy +home life at the time; and she remembered, too, the sweet hope that +lay like a closed-up bud in the bottom of her heart that day, as the +quartette moved away and left her standing alone with Arthur Stuart. + +It was only a few weeks later that the end came to all her dreams, +through that terrible anonymous letter. + +It was the Baroness who had sent it, she knew--the Baroness whose +early hatred for her mother had descended to the child. "And now I +must sit in the same house with her again," she said, "and perhaps +meet her face to face; and she may tell the story here of my mother's +shame, even as I have felt and feared it must yet be told. How +strange that a 'love child' should inspire so much hatred!" + +Joy had carefully refrained from reading New York papers ever since +she left the city; and she had no correspondents. It was her wish +and desire to utterly sink and forget the past life there. Therefore +she knew nothing of Arthur Stuart's marriage to the daughter of +Preston Cheney. She thought of the rector as dead to her. She +believed he had given her up because of the stain upon her birth, +and, bitter as the pain had been, she never blamed him. She had +fought with her love for him and believed that it was buried in the +grave of all other happy memories. + +But as the earth is wrenched open by volcanic eruptions and long +buried corpses are revealed again to the light of day, so the +unexpected sight of Arthur Stuart, as he took his place beside Mabel +and the Baroness during the funeral services, revealed all the pent- +up passion of her heart to her own frightened soul. + +To strong natures, the greater the inward excitement the more quiet +the exterior; and Jay passed through the services, and performed her +duties, without betraying to those about her the violent emotions +under which she laboured. + +The rector of Beryngford Church requested her to remain for a few +moments, and consult with him on a matter concerning the next week's +musical services. It was from him Joy learned the relation which +Arthur Stuart bore to the dead man, and that Beryngford was the +former home of the Baroness. + +Her mother's manuscript had carefully avoided all mention of names of +people or places. Yet Joy realised now that she must be living in +the very scene of her mother's early life; she longed to make +inquiries, but was prevented by the fear that she might hear her +mother's name mentioned disrespectfully. + +The days that followed were full of sharp agony for her. It was not +until long afterward that she was able to write her "impressions" of +that experience. In the extreme hour of joy or agony we formulate no +impressions; we only feel. We neither analyse nor describe our +friends or enemies when face to face with them, but after we leave +their presence. When the day came that she could write, some of her +reflections were thus epitomised: + + +Love which rises from the grave to comfort us, possesses more of the +demons' than the angels' power. It terrifies us with its +supernatural qualities and deprives us temporarily of our reason. + +Suppressed steam and suppressed emotion are dangerous things to deal +with. + +The infant who wants its mother's breast, and the woman who wants her +lover's arms, are poor subjects to reason with. Though you tell the +former that fever has poisoned the mother's milk, or the latter that +destruction lies in the lover's embrace, one heeds you no more than +the other. + +The accumulated knowledge of ages is sometimes revealed by a kiss. +Where wisdom is bliss, it is folly to be ignorant. + +Some of us have to crucify our hearts before we find our souls. + +A woman cannot fully know charity until she has met passion; but too +intimate an acquaintance with the latter destroys her appreciation of +all the virtues. + +To feel temptation and resist it, renders us liberal in our judgment +of all our kind. To yield to it, fills us with suspicion of all. + +There is an ecstatic note in pain which is never reached in +happiness. + +The death of a great passion is a terrible thing, unless the dawn of +a greater truth shines on the grave. + +Love ought to have no past tense. + +Love partakes of the feline nature. It has nine lives. + +It seems to be difficult for some of us to distinguish between +looseness of views, and charitable judgments. To be sorry for +people's sins and follies and to refuse harsh criticism is right; to +accept them as a matter of course is wrong. + +Love and sorrow are twins, and knowledge is their nurse. + +The pathway of the soul is not a steady ascent, but hilly and broken. +We must sometimes go lower, in order to get higher. + +That which is to-day, and will be to-morrow, must have been +yesterday. I know that I live, I believe that I shall live again, +and have lived before. + +Earth life is the middle rung of a long ladder which we climb in the +dark. Though we cannot see the steps below, or above, they exist all +the same. + +The materialist denying spirit is like the burr of the chestnut +denying the meat within. + +The inevitable is always right. + +Prayer is a skeleton key that opens unexpected doors. We may not +find the things we came to seek, but we find other treasures. + +The pessimist belongs to God's misfit counter. + +Art, when divorced from Religion, always becomes a wanton. + +To forget benefits we have received is a crime. To remember benefits +we have bestowed is a greater one. + +To some men a woman is a valuable book, carefully studied and +choicely guarded behind glass doors. To others, she is a daily +paper, idly scanned and tossed aside. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + + +While Joy battled with her sorrow during the days following Preston +Cheney's burial, she woke to the consciousness that her history was +known in Beryngford. The indescribable change in the manner of her +acquaintances, the curiosity in the eyes of some, the insolence or +familiarity of others, all told her that her fears were realised; and +then there came a letter from the church authorities requesting her +to resign her position as organist. + +This letter came to the young girl on one of those dreary autumn +nights when all the desolation of the dying summer, and none of the +exhilaration of the approaching winter, is in the air. She had been +labouring all day under a cloud of depression which hovered over her +heart and brain and threatened to wholly envelop her; and the letter +from the church committee cut her heart like a poniard stroke. +Sometimes we are able to bear a series of great disasters with +courage and equanimity, while we utterly collapse under some slight +misfortune. Joy had been a heroine in her great sorrows, but now in +the undeserved loss of her position as church organist, she felt +herself unable longer to cope with Fate. + +"There's no place for me anywhere," she said to herself. Had she +known the truth, that the Baroness had represented her to the +committee as a fallen woman of the metropolis, who had left the city +for the city's good, the letter would not have seemed to her so +cruelly unjust and unjustifiable. + +Bitter as had been her suffering at the loss of Arthur Stuart from +her life, she had found it possible to understand his hesitation to +make her his wife. With his fine sense of family pride, and his +reverence for the estate of matrimony, his belief in heredity, it +seemed quite natural to her that he should be shocked at the +knowledge of the conditions under which she was born; and the thought +that her disappearance from his life was helping him to solve a +painful problem, had at times, before this unexpected sight of him, +rendered her almost happy in her lonely exile. She had grown +strangely fond of Beryngford--of the old streets and homes which she +knew must have been familiar to her mother's eyes, of the new church +whose glorious voiced organ gave her so many hours of comfort and +relief of soul, of the tiny apartment where she and her heart +communed together. She was catlike in her love of places, and now +she must tear herself away from all these surroundings and seek some +new spot wherein to hide herself and her sorrows. + +It was like tearing up a half-rooted flower, already drooping from +one transplanting. She said to herself that she could never survive +another change. She read the letter over which lay in her hand, and +tears began to slowly well from her eyes. Joy seldom wept; but now +it seemed to her she was some other person, who stood apart and wept +tears of sympathy for this poor girl, Joy Irving, whose life was so +hemmed about with troubles, none of which were of her own making; and +then, like a dam which suddenly gives way and allows a river to +overflow, a great storm of sobs shook her frame, and she wept as she +had never wept before; and with her tears there came rushing back to +her heart all the old love and sorrow for the dead mother which had +so long been hidden under her burden of shame; and all the old +passion and longing for the man whose insane wife she knew to be a +more hopeless obstacle between them than this mother's history had +proven. + +"Mother, Arthur, pity me, pity me!" she cried. "I am all alone, and +the strife is so terrible. I have never meant to harm any living +thing! Mother Arthur, GOD, how can you all desert me so?" + +At last, exhausted, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. + +She awoke the following morning with an aching head, and a heart +wherein all emotions seemed dead save a dull despair. She was +conscious of only one wish, one desire--a longing to sit again in the +organ loft, and pour forth her soul in one last farewell to that +instrument which had grown to seem her friend, confidant and lover. + +She battled with her impulse as unreasonable and unwise, till the day +was well advanced. But it grew stronger with each hour; and at last +she set forth under a leaden sky and through a dreary November rain +to the church. + +Her head throbbed with pain, and her hands were hot and feverish, as +she seated herself before the organ and began to play. But with the +first sounds responding to her touch, she ceased to think of bodily +discomfort. + +The music was the voice of her own soul, uttering to God all its +desolation, its anguish and its despair. Then suddenly, with no +seeming volition of her own, it changed to a passion of human love, +human desire; the sorrow of separation, the strife with the emotions, +the agony of renunciation were all there; and the November rain, +beating in wild gusts against the window-panes behind the musician, +lent a fitting accompaniment to the strains. + +She had been playing for perhaps an hour, when a sudden exhaustion +seized upon her, and her hands fell nerveless and inert upon her lap; +she dropped her chin upon her breast and closed her eyes. She was +drunken with her own music. + +When she opened them again a few moments later, they fell upon the +face of Arthur Stuart, who stood a few feet distant regarding her +with haggard eyes. Unexpected and strange as his presence was, Joy +felt neither surprise nor wonder. She had been thinking of him so +intensely, he had been so interwoven with the music she had been +playing, that his bodily presence appeared to her as a natural +result. He was the first to speak; and when he spoke she noticed +that his voice sounded hoarse and broken, and that his face was drawn +and pale. + +"I came to Beryngford this morning expressly to see you, Joy," he +said. "I have many things to say to you. I went to your residence +and was told by the maid that I would find you here. I followed, as +you see. We have had many meetings in church edifices, in organ +lofts. It seems natural to find you in such a place, but I fear it +will be unnatural and unfitting to say to you here, what I came to +say. Shall we return to your home?" + +His eyes shone strangely from dusky caverns, and there were deep +lines about his mouth. + +"He, too, has suffered," thought Joy; "I have not borne it all +alone." Then she said aloud: + +"We are quite undisturbed here; I know of nothing I could listen to +in my room which I could not hear you say in this place. Go on." + +He looked at her silently for a moment, his cheeks pale, his breast +heaving. Before he came to Beryngford, he had fought his battle +between religion and human passion, and passion had won. He had cast +under his feet every principle and tradition in which he had been +reared, and resolved to live alone henceforth for the love and +companionship of one human being, could he obtain her consent to go +with him. + +Yet for the moment, he hesitated to speak the words he had resolved +to utter, under the roof of a house of God, so strong were the +influences of his early training and his habits of thought. But as +his eyes feasted upon the face before him, his hesitation vanished, +and he leaned toward her and spoke. "Joy," he said, "three years ago +I went away and left you in sorrow, alone, because I was afraid to +brave public opinion, afraid to displease my mother and ask you to be +my wife. The story your mother told me of your birth, a story she +left in manuscript for you to read, made a social coward of me. I +was afraid to take a girl born out of wedlock to be my life +companion, the mother of my children. Well, I married a girl born in +wedlock; and where is my companion?" He paused and laughed +recklessly. Then he went on hurriedly: "She is in an asylum for the +insane. I am chained to a corpse for life. I had not enough moral +courage three-years ago to make you my wife. But I have moral +courage enough now to come here and ask you to go with me to +Australia, and begin a new life together. My mother died a year ago. +I donned the surplice at her bidding. I will abandon it at the +bidding of Love. I sinned against heaven in marrying a woman I did +not love. I am willing to sin against the laws of man by living with +the woman I do love; will you go with me, Joy?" There was silence +save for the beating of the rain against the stained window, and the +wailing of the wind. + +Joy was in a peculiarly overwrought condition of mind and body. Her +hours of extravagant weeping the previous night, followed by a day of +fasting, left her nervous system in a state to be easily excited by +the music she had been playing. She was virtually intoxicated with +sorrow and harmony. She was incapable of reasoning, and conscious +only of two things--that she must leave Beryngford, and that the man +whom she had loved with her whole heart for five years, was asking +her to go with him; to be no more homeless, unloved, and alone, but +his companion while life should last. + +"Answer me, Joy," he was pleading. "Answer me." + +She moved toward the stairway that led down to the street door; and +as she flitted by him, she said, looking him full in the eyes with a +slow, grave smile, "Yes, Arthur, I will go with you." + +He sprang toward her with a wild cry of joy, but she was already +flying down the stairs and out upon the street. + +When he joined her, they walked in silence through the rain to her +door, neither speaking a word, until he would have followed her +within. Then she laid her hand upon his shoulder and said gently but +firmly: "Not now, Arthur; we must not see each other again until we +go away. Write me where to meet you, and I will join you within +twenty-four hours. Do not urge me--you must obey me this once-- +afterward I will obey you. Good-night." + +As she closed the door upon him, he said, "Oh, Joy, I have so much to +tell you. I promised your father when he was dying that I would find +you; I swore to myself that when I found you I would never leave you, +save at your own command. I go now, only because you bid me go. +When we meet again, there must be no more parting; and you shall hear +a story stranger than the wildest fiction--the story of your father's +life. Despite your mother's secretiveness regarding this portion of +her history, the knowledge has come to me in the most unexpected +manner, from the lips of the man himself." + +Joy listened dreamily to the words he was saying. Her father--she +was to know who her father was? Well, it did not matter much to her +now--father, mother, what were they, what was anything save the fact +that he had come back to her and that he loved her? + +She smiled silently into his eyes. Glance became entangled with +glance, and would not be separated. + +He pushed open the almost closed door and she felt herself enveloped +with arms and lips. + +A second later she stood alone, leaning dizzily against the door; +heart, brain and blood in a mad riot of emotion. + +Then she fell into a chair and covered her burning face with her +hands as she whispered, "Mother, mother, forgive me--I understand--I +understand." + + + +CHAPTER XX + + + +The first shock of the awakened emotions brings recklessness to some +women, and to others fear. + +The more frivolous plunge forward like the drunken man who leaps from +the open window believing space is water. + +The more intense draw back, startled at the unknown world before +them. + +The woman who thinks love is all ideality is more liable to follow +into undreamed-of chasms than she who, through the complexity of her +own emotions, realises its grosser elements. + +It was long after midnight when Joy fell into a heavy sleep, the +night of Arthur Stuart's visit. She heard the drip of the dreary +November rain upon the roof, and all the light and warmth seemed +stricken from the universe save the fierce fire in her own heart. + +When she woke in the late morning, great splashes of sunlight were +leaping and quivering like living things across the foot of her bed; +she sprang up, dazed for a moment by the flood of light in the room, +and went to the window and looked out upon a sun-kissed world smiling +in the arms of a perfect Indian summer day. + +A happy little sparrow chirped upon the window sill, and some +children ran across the street bare-headed, exulting in the soft air. +All was innocence and sweetness. Mind and morals are greatly +influenced by weather. Many things seem right in the fog and gloom, +which we know to be wrong in the clear light of a sunny morning. The +events of the previous day came back to Joy's mind as she stood by +the window, and stirred her with a sense of strangeness and terror. +The thought of the step she had resolved to take brought a sudden +trembling to her limbs. It seemed to her the eyes of God were +piercing into her heart, and she was afraid. + +Joy had from her early girlhood been an earnest and sincere follower +of the Christian religion. The embodiment of love and sympathy +herself, it was natural for her to believe in the God of Love and to +worship Him in outward forms, as well as in her secret soul. It was +the deep and earnest fervour of religion in her heart, which rendered +her music so unusual and so inspiring. There never was, is not and +never can be greatness in any art where religious feeling is lacking. + +There must be the consciousness of the Infinite, in the mind which +produces infinite results. + +Though the artist be gifted beyond all other men, though he toil +unremittingly, so long as he says, "Behold what I, the gifted and +tireless toiler, can achieve," he shall produce but mediocre and +ephemeral results. It is when he says reverently, "Behold what +powers greater than I shall achieve through me, the instrument," that +he becomes great and men marvel at his power. + +Joy's religious nature found expression in her music, and so +something more than a harmony of beautiful sounds impressed her +hearers. + +The first severe blow to her faith in the church as a divine +institution, was when her rector and her lover left her alone in the +hour of her darkest trials, because he knew the story of her mother's +life. His hesitancy to make her his wife she understood, but his +absolute desertion of her at such a time, seemed inconsistent with +his calling as a disciple of the Christ. + +The second blow came in her dismissal from the position of organist +at the Beryngford Church, after the presence of the Baroness in the +town. + +A disgust for human laws, and a bitter resentment towards society +took possession of her. When a gentle and loving nature is roused to +anger and indignation, it is often capable of extremes of action; and +Arthur Stuart had made his proposition of flight to Joy Irving in an +hour when her high-wrought emotions and intensely strung nerves made +any desperate act possible to her. The sight of his face, with its +evidences of severe suffering, awoke all her smouldering passion for +the man; and the thought that he was ready to tread his creed under +his feet and to defy society for her sake, stirred her with a wild +joy. God had seemed very far away, and human love was very precious; +too precious to be thrown away in obedience to any man-made law. + +But somehow this morning God seemed nearer, and the consciousness of +what she had promised to do terrified her. Disturbed by her +thoughts, she turned towards her toilet-table and caught sight of the +letter of dismissal from the church committee. It acted upon her +like an electric shock. Resentment and indignation re-enthroned +themselves in her bosom. + +"Is it to cater to the opinions and prejudices of people like THESE +that I hesitate to take the happiness offered me?" she cried, as she +tore the letter in bits and cast it beneath her feet. Arthur Stuart +appeared to her once more, in the light of a delivering angel. Yes, +she would go with him to the ends of the earth. It was her +inheritance to lead a lawless life. Nothing else was possible for +her. God must see how she had been hemmed in by circumstances, how +she had been goaded and driven from the paths of peace and purity +where she had wished to dwell. God was not a man, and He would be +merciful in judging her. + +She sent her landlady two months' rent in advance, and notice of her +departure, and set hurriedly about her preparations. + + +Twenty-five years before, when Berene Dumont disappeared from +Beryngford, she had, quite unknown to herself, left one devoted +though humble friend behind, who sincerely mourned her absence. + +Mrs Connor liked to be spoken of as "the wash-lady at the Palace." +Yet proud as she was of this appellation, she was not satisfied with +being an excellent laundress. She was a person of ambitions. To be +the owner of a lodging-house, like the Baroness, was her leading +ambition, and to possess a "peany" for her young daughter Kathleen +was another. + +She kept her mind fixed on these two achievements, and she worked +always for those two results. And as mind rules matter, so the +laundress became in time the landlady of a comfortable and +respectable lodging-house, and in its parlour a piano was the chief +object of furniture. + +Kathleen Connor learned to play; and at last to the joy of the +lodgers, she married and bore her "peany" away with her. During the +time when Mrs Connor was the ambitious "wash-lady" at the Palace, +Berene Dumont came to live there; and every morning when the young +woman carried the tray down to the kitchen after having served the +Baroness with her breakfast, she offered Mrs Connor a cup of coffee +and a slice of toast. + +This simple act of thoughtfulness from the young dependant touched +the Irishwoman's tender heart and awoke her lasting gratitude. She +had heard Berene's story, and she had been prepared to mete out to +her that disdainful dislike which Erin almost invariably feels +towards France. Realising that the young widow was by birth and +breeding above the station of housemaid, Mrs Connor and the servants +had expected her to treat them with the same lofty airs which the +Baroness made familiar to her servants. When, instead, Berene +toasted the bread for Mrs Connor, and poured the coffee and placed it +on the kitchen table with her own hands, the heart of the wash-lady +melted in her ample breast. When the heart of the daughter of Erin +melts, it permeates her whole being; and Mrs Connor became a secret +devotee at the shrine of Miss Dumont. + +She had never entertained cordial feelings toward the Baroness. When +a society lady--especially a titled one--enters into competition with +working people, and yet refuses to associate with them, it always +incites their enmity. The working population of Beryngford, from the +highest to the lowest grades, felt a sense of resentment toward the +Baroness, who in her capacity of landlady still maintained the airs +of a grand dame, and succeeded in keeping her footing with some of +the most fashionable people in the town. + +Added to these causes of dislike, the Baroness was, like many +wealthier people, excessively close in her dealings with working +folk, haggling over a few cents or a few moments of wasted time, +while she was generosity itself in association with her equals. + +Mrs Connor, therefore, felt both pity and sympathy for Miss Dumont, +whose position in the Palace she knew to be a difficult one; and when +Preston Cheney came upon the scene the romantic mind of the motherly +Irishwoman fashioned a future for the young couple which would have +done credit to the pen of a Mrs Southworth. + +Mr Cheney always had a kind word for the laundress, and a tip as +well; and when Mrs Connor's dream of seeing him act the part of the +Prince and Berene the Cinderella of a modern fairy story, ended in +the disappearance of Miss Dumont and the marriage of Mr Cheney to +Mabel Lawrence, the unhappy wash-lady mourned unceasingly. + +Ten years of hard, unremitting toil and rigid economy passed away +before Mrs Connor could realise her ambition of becoming a landlady +in the purchase of a small house which contained but four rooms, +three of which were rented to lodgers. The increase in the value of +her property during the next five years, left the fortunate +speculator with a fine profit when she sold her house at the end of +that time, and rented a larger one; and as she was an excellent +financier, it was not strange that, at the time Joy Irving appeared +on the scene, "Mrs Connor's apartments" were as well and favourably +known in Beryngford, if not as distinctly fashionable, as the Palace +had been more than twenty years ago. + +So it was under the roof of her mother's devoted and faithful mourner +that the unhappy young orphan had found a home when she came to hide +herself away from all who had ever known her. + +The landlady experienced the same haunting sensation of something +past and gone when she looked on the girl's beautiful face, which had +so puzzled the Baroness; a something which drew and attracted the +warm heart of the Irishwoman, as the magnet draws the steel. Time +and experience had taught Mrs Connor to be discreet in her treatment +of her tenants; to curb her curiosity and control her inclination to +sociability. But in the case of Miss Irving she had found it +impossible to refrain from sundry kindly acts which were not included +in the terms of the contract. Certain savoury dishes found their way +mysteriously to Miss Irving's menage, and flowers appeared in her +room as if by magic, and in various other ways the good heart and +intentions of Mrs Connor were unobtrusively expressed toward her +favourite tenant. Joy had taken a suite of four rooms, where, with +her maid, she lived in modest comfort and complete retirement from +the social world of Beryngford, save as the close connection of the +church with Beryngford society rendered her, in the position of +organist, a participant in many of the social features of the town. +While Joy was in the midst of her preparations for departure, Mrs +Connor made her appearance with swollen eyes and red, blistered face. + +"And it's the talk of that ould witch of a Baroness, may the divil +run away with her, that is drivin' ye away, is it?" she cried +excitedly; "and it's not Mrs Connor as will consist to the daughter +of your mother, God rest her soul, lavin' my house like this. To +think that I should have had ye here all these years, and never known +ye to be her child till now, and now to see ye driven away by the +divil's own! But if it's the fear of not being able to pay the rint +because ye've lost your position, ye needn't lave for many a long day +to come. It's Mrs Connor would only be as happy as the queen herself +to work her hands to the bone for ye, remembering your darlint of a +mother, and not belavin' one word against her, nor ye." + +So soon as Joy could gain possession of her surprised senses, she +calmed the weeping woman and began to question her. + +"My good woman," she said, "what are you talking about? Did you ever +know my mother, and where did you know her?" + +"In the Palace, to be sure, as they called the house of that imp of +Satan, the Baroness. I was the wash-lady there, for it's not Mrs +Conner the landlady as is above spakin' of the days when she wasn't +as high in the world as she is now; and many is the cheerin' cup of +coffee or tay from your own mother's hand, that I've had in the +forenoon, to chirk me up and put me through my washing, bless her +sweet face; and niver have I forgotten her; and niver have I ceased +to miss her and the fine young man that took such an interest in her +and that I'm as sure loved her, in spite of his marrying the Judge's +spook of a daughter, as I am that the Holy Virgin loves us all; and +it's a foine man that your father must have been, but young Mr Cheney +was foiner." + +So little by little Joy drew the story from Mrs Connor and learned +the name of the mysterious father, so carefully guarded from her in +Mrs Irving's manuscript, the father at whose funeral services she had +so recently officiated as organist. + +And strangest and most startling of all, she learned that Arthur +Stuart's insane wife was her half-sister. + +Added to all this, Joy was made aware of the nature of the reports +which the Baroness had been circulating about her; and her feeling of +bitter resentment and anger toward the church committee was modified +by the knowledge that it was not owing to the shadow on her birth, +but to the false report of her own evil life, that she had been asked +to resign. + +After Mrs Connor had gone, Joy was for a long time in meditation, and +then turned in a mechanical manner to her delayed task. Her book of +"Impressions" lay on a table close at hand. + +And as she took it up the leaves opened to the sentence she had +written three years before, after her talk with the rector about +Marah Adams. + + +"It seems to me I could not love a man who did not seek to lead me +higher; the moment he stood below me and asked me to descend, I +should realise he was to be pitied, not adored!" + + +She shut the book and fell on her knees in prayer; and as she prayed +a strange thing happened. The room filled with a peculiar mist, like +the smoke which is illuminated by the brilliant rays of the morning +sun; and in the midst of it a small square of intense rose-coloured +light was visible. This square grew larger and larger, until it +assumed the size and form of a man, whose face shone with immortal +glory. He smiled and laid his hand on Joy's head. "Child, awake," +he said, and with these words vast worlds dawned upon the girl's +sight. She stood above and apart from her grosser body, untrammelled +and free; she saw long vistas of lives in the past through which she +had come to the present; she saw long vistas of lives in the future +through which she must pass to gain the experience which would lead +her back to God. An ineffable peace and serenity enveloped her. The +divine Presence seemed to irradiate the place in which she stood--she +felt herself illuminated, transfigured, sanctified by the holy flame +within her. + +When she came back to the kneeling form by the couch, and rose to her +feet, all the aspect of life had changed for her. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + + +Joy Irving had unpacked her trunks and set her small apartment to +rights, when the postman's ring sounded, and a moment later a letter +was slipped under her door. + +She picked it up, and recognised Arthur Stuart's penmanship. She sat +down, holding the unopened letter in her hands. + +"It is Arthur's message, appointing a time and place for our +meeting," she said to herself. "How long ago that strange interview +with him seems!--yet it was only yesterday. How utterly the whole of +life has changed for me since then! The universe seems larger, God +nearer, and life grander. I am as one who slept and dreamed of +darkness and sorrow, and awakes to light and joy." + +But when she opened the envelope and read the few hastily written +lines within, an exclamation of surprise escaped her lips. It was a +brief note from Arthur Stuart and began abruptly without an address +(a manner more suggestive of strong passion than any endearing +words). + + +"The first item which my eye fell upon in the telegraphic column of +the morning paper, was the death of my wife in the Retreat for the +Insane. I leave by the first express to bring her body here for +burial. + +"A merciful providence has saved us the necessity of defying the laws +of God or man, and opened the way for me to claim you before all the +world as my worshipped wife so soon as propriety will permit. + +"I shall see you at any hour you may indicate after to-morrow, for a +brief interview. + +"ARTHUR EMERSON STUART." + + +Joy held the letter in her hand a long time, lost in profound +reflection. Then she sat down to her desk and wrote three letters; +one was to Mrs Lawrence; one to the chairman of the church committee, +who had requested her resignation; the third was to Mr Stuart, and +read thus: + + +"My Dear Mr Stuart,--Many strange things have occurred to me since I +saw you. I have learned the name of my father, and this knowledge +reveals the fact to me that your unfortunate wife was my half-sister. +I have learned, too, that the loss of my position here as organist is +not due to the narrow prejudice of the committee regarding the shadow +on my birth, but to malicious stories put in circulation by Mrs +Lawrence, relating to me. + +"Infamous and libellous tales regarding my life have been told, and +must be refuted. I have written to Mrs Lawrence demanding a letter +from her, clearing my personal character, or giving her the +alternative of appearing in court to answer the charge of defamation +of character. I have also written to the church committee requesting +them to meet me here in my apartments to-morrow, and explain their +demand for my resignation. + +"I now write to you my last letter and my farewell. + +"In the overwrought and desperate mood in which you found me, it did +not seem a sin for me to go away with the man who loved me and whom I +loved, before false ideas of life and false ideas of duty made him +the husband of another. Conscious that your wife was a hopeless +lunatic whose present or future could in no way be influenced by our +actions, I reasoned that we wronged no one in taking the happiness so +long denied us. + +"The last three years of my life have been full of desolation and +sorrow. From the day my mother died, the stars of light which had +gemmed the firmament for me, seemed one by one to be obliterated, +until I stood in utter darkness. You found me in the very blackest +hour of all--and you seemed a shining sun to me. + +"Yet so soon as my tired brain and sorrow-worn heart were able to +think and reason, I realised that it was not the man I had worshipped +as an ideal, who had come to me and asked me to lower my standard of +womanhood. It was another and less worthy man--and this other was to +be my companion through time, and perhaps eternity. When I learned +that your insane wife was my sister, and that knowing this fact you +yet planned our flight, an indescribable feeling of repulsion awoke +in my heart. + +"I confess that this arose more from a sentiment than a principle. +The relationship of your wife to me made the contemplated sin no +greater, but rendered it more tasteless. + +"Had I gone away with you as I consented to do, the world would have +said, she but follows her fatal inheritance--like mother like +daughter. There were some bitter rebellious hours, when that thought +came to me. But to-day light has shone upon me, and I know there is +a law of Divine Heredity which is greater and more powerful than any +tendency we derive from parents or grandparents. I have believed +much in creeds all my life; and in the hour of great trials I found I +was leaning on broken reeds. I have now ceased to look to men or +books for truth--I have found it in my own soul. I acknowledge no +unfortunate tendencies from any earthly inheritance; centuries of +sinful or weak ancestors are as nothing beside the God within. The +divine and immortal ME is older than my ancestral tree; it is as old +as the universe. It is as old as the first great Cause of which it +is a part. Strong with this consciousness, I am prepared to meet the +world alone, and unafraid from this day onward. When I think of the +optimistic temperament, the good brain, and the vigorous body which +were naturally mine, and then of the wretched being who was my +legitimate sister, I know that I was rightly generated, however +unfortunately born, just as she was wrongly generated though legally +born. + +"My father, I am told, married into a family whose crest is traced +back to the tenth century. I carry a coat-of-arms older yet--the +Cross; it dates back eighteen hundred years--yes, many thousand +years, and so I feel myself the nobler of the two. Had you been more +of a disciple of Christ, and less of a disciple of man, you would +have realised this truth long ago, as I realise it to-day. No man +should dare stand before his fellows as a revealer of divine +knowledge until he has penetrated the inmost recesses of his own +soul, and found God's holy image there; and until he can show others +the way to the same wonderful discovery. The God you worshipped was +far away in the heavens, so far that he could not come to you and +save you from your baser self in the hour of temptation. But the +true God has been miraculously revealed to me. He dwells within; one +who has found Him, will never debase His temple. + +"Though there is no legal obstacle now in the path to our union, +there is a spiritual one which is insurmountable. I NO LONGER LOVE +YOU. I am sorry for you, but that is all. You belonged to my +yesterday--you can have no part in my to-day. The man who tempted me +in my weak hour to go lower, could not help me to go higher. And my +face is set toward the heights. + +"I must prove to that world that a child born under the shadow of +shame, and of two weak, uncontrolled parents, can be virtuous, +strong, brave and sensible. That she can conquer passion and +impulse, by the use of her divine inheritance of will; and that she +can compel the respect of the public by her discreet life and lofty +ideals. + +"I shall stay in this place until I have vindicated my name and +character from every aspersion cast upon them. I shall retain my +position of organist, and retain it until I have accumulated +sufficient means to go abroad and prepare myself for the musical +career in which I know I can excel. I am young, strong and +ambitious. My unusual sorrows will give me greater power of +character if I accept them as spiritual tonics--bitter but +strengthening. + +"Farewell, and may God be with you. + +"Joy Irving." + + +When the rector of St Blank's returned from the Beryngford Cemetery, +where he had placed the body of his wife beside her father, he found +this letter lying on his table in the hotel. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, AN AMBITIOUS MAN *** + +This file should be named ammn10.txt or ammn10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, ammn11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ammn10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/ammn10.zip b/old/ammn10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..012a09d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ammn10.zip diff --git a/old/ammn10h.htm b/old/ammn10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd5aeb2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ammn10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4216 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>An Ambitious Man</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">An Ambitious Man, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Ambitious Man, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: An Ambitious Man + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7866] +[This file was first posted on May 28, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<h1>AN AMBITIOUS MAN</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Preston Cheney turned as he ran down the steps of a handsome house +on “The Boulevard,” waving a second adieu to a young woman +framed between the lace curtains of the window. Then he hurried +down the street and out of view. The young woman watched him with +a gleam of satisfaction in her pale blue eyes. A fine-looking +young fellow, whose Roman nose and strong jaw belied the softly curved +mouth with its sensitive darts at the corners; it was strange that something +warmer than satisfaction did not shine upon the face of the woman whom +he had just asked to be his wife.</p> +<p>But Mabel Lawrence was one of those women who are never swayed by +any passion stronger than worldly ambition, never burned by any fires +other than those of jealousy or anger. Her meagre nature was truly +depicted in her meagre face. Nature is ofttimes a great lair and +a cruel jester, giving to the cold and vapid woman the face and form +of a sensuous siren, and concealing a heart of volcanic fires, or the +soul of a Phryne, under the exterior of a spinster. But the old +dame had been wholly frank in forming Miss Lawrence. The thin, +flat chest and narrow shoulders, the angular elbows and prominent shoulder-blades, +the sallow skin and sharp features, the deeply set, pale blue eyes, +and the lustreless, ashen hair, were all truthful exponents of the unfurnished +rooms in her vacant heart and soul places.</p> +<p>Miss Lawrence turned from the window, and trailed her long silken +train across the rich carpet, seating herself before the open fireplace. +It was an appropriate time and situation for a maiden’s tender +dreams; only a few hours had passed since the handsomest and most brilliant +young man in that thriving eastern town had asked her to be his wife, +and placed the kiss of betrothal upon her virgin lips. Yet it +was with a sense of triumph and relief, rather than with tenderness +and rapture, that the young woman meditated upon the situation—triumph +over other women who had shown a decided interest in Mr Cheney, since +his arrival in the place more than eighteen months ago, and relief that +the dreaded rôle of spinster was not to be her part in life’s +drama.</p> +<p>Miss Lawrence was twenty-six—one year older than her fiancé; +and she had never received a proposal of marriage or listened to a word +of love in her life before. Let me transpose that phrase—she +had never before received a proposal of marriage, and had never in her +life listened to a word of love; for Preston had not spoken of love. +She knew that he did not love her. She knew that he had sought +her hand wholly from ambitious motives. She was the daughter of +the Hon. Sylvester Lawrence, lawyer, judge, state senator, and proposed +candidate for lieutenant-governor in the coming campaign. She +was the only heir to his large fortune.</p> +<p>Preston Cheney was a penniless young man from the West. A self-made +youth, with an unusual brain and an overwhelming ambition, he had risen +from chore boy on a western farm to printer’s apprentice in a +small town, thence to reporter, city editor, foreign correspondent, +and after two or three years of travel gained in this manner he had +come to Beryngford and bought out a struggling morning paper, which +was making a mad effort to keep alive, changed its political tendencies, +infused it with western activity and filled it with cosmopolitan news, +and now, after eighteen months, the young man found himself coming abreast +of his two long established rivals in the editorial field. This +success was but an incentive to his overwhelming ambition for place, +power and riches. He had seen just enough of life and of the world +to estimate these things at double their value; and he was, beside, +looking at life through the magnifying glass of youth. The Creator +intended us to gaze on worldly possessions and selfish ambitions through +the small end of the lorgnette, but youth invariably inverts the glass.</p> +<p>To the young editor, the brief years behind him seemed like a long +hard pull up a steep and rocky cliff. From the point to which +he had attained, the summit of his desires looked very far away, much +farther than the level from which he had arisen. To rise to that +summit single-handed and alone would require unremitting effort through +the very best years of his manhood. His brain, his strength, his +ability, his ambitions, what were they all in the strife after place +and power, compared to the money of some commonplace adversary? +Preston Cheney, the native-born American directly descended from a Revolutionary +soldier, would be handicapped in the race with some Michael Murphy whose +father had made a fortune in the saloon business, or who had himself +acquired a competency as a police officer.</p> +<p>America was not the same country which gave men like Benjamin Franklin, +Abraham Lincoln and Horace Greeley a chance to rise from the lower ranks +to the highest places before they reached middle life. It was +no longer a land where merit strove with merit, and the prize fell to +the most earnest and the most gifted. The tremendous influx of +foreign population since the war of the Rebellion and the right of franchise +given unreservedly to the illiterate and the vicious rendered the ambitious +American youth now a toy in the hands of aliens, and position a thing +to be bought at the price set by un-American masses.</p> +<p>Thoughts like these had more and more with each year filled the mind +of Preston Cheney, until, like the falling of stones and earth into +a river bed, they changed the naturally direct current of his impulses +into another channel. Why not further his life purpose by an ambitious +marriage? The first time the thought entered his mind he had cast +it out as something unclean and unworthy of his manhood. Marriage +was a holy estate, he said to himself, a sacrament to be entered into +with reverence, and sanctified by love. He must love the woman +who was to be the companion of his life, the mother of his children.</p> +<p>Then he looked about among his early friends who had married, as +nearly all the young men of the middle classes in America do marry, +for love, or what they believed to be love. There was Tom Somers—a +splendid lad, full of life, hope and ambition when he married Carrie +Towne, the prettiest girl in Vandalia. Well, what was he now, +after seven years? A broken-spirited man, with a sickly, complaining +wife and a brood of ill-clad children. Harry Walters, the most +infatuated lover he had ever seen, was divorced after five years of +discordant marriage.</p> +<p>Charlie St Clair was flagrantly unfaithful to the girl he had pursued +three years with his ardent wooings before she yielded to his suit. +Certainly none of these love marriages were examples for him to follow. +And in the midst of these reveries and reflections, Preston Cheney came +to Beryngford, and met Sylvester Lawrence and his daughter Mabel. +He met also Berene Dumont. Had he not met the latter woman he +would not have succumbed—so soon at least—to the temptation +held out by the former to advance his ambitious aims.</p> +<p>He would have hesitated, considered, and reconsidered, and without +doubt his better nature and his good taste would have prevailed. +But when fate threw Berene Dumont in his way, and circumstances brought +about his close associations with her for many months, there seemed +but one way of escape from the Scylla of his desires, and that was to +the Charybdis of a marriage with Miss Lawrence.</p> +<p>Miss Lawrence was not aware of the part Berene Dumont had played +in her engagement, but she knew perfectly the part her father’s +influence and wealth had played; but she was quite content with affairs +as they were, and it mattered little to her what had brought them about. +To be married, rather than to be loved, had been her ambition since +she left school; being incapable of loving, she was incapable of appreciating +the passion in any of its phases. It had always seemed to her +that a great deal of nonsense was written and talked about love. +She thought demonstrative people very vulgar, and believed kissing a +means of conveying germs of disease.</p> +<p>But to be a married woman, with an establishment of her own, and +a husband to exhibit to her friends, was necessary to the maintenance +of her pride.</p> +<p>When Miss Lawrence’s mother, a nervous invalid, was informed +of her daughter’s engagement, she burst into tears, as over a +lamb offered on the altar of sacrifice; and Judge Lawrence pressed a +kiss on the lobe of Mabel’s left ear which she offered him, and +told her she had won a prize in the market. But as he sat alone +over his cigar that night, he sighed heavily, and said to himself, “Poor +fellow, I wish Mabel were not so much like her mother.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Baroness Brown” was a distinctive figure in Beryngford. +She came to the place from foreign parts some three years before the +arrival of Preston Cheney, and brought servants, carriages and horses, +and established herself in a very handsome house which she rented for +a term of years. Her arrival in this quiet village town was of +course the sensation of the hour, or rather of the year. She was +known as Baroness Le Fevre—an American widow of a French baron. +Large, voluptuous, blonde, and handsome according to the popular idea +of beauty, distinctly amiable, affable and very charitable, she became +at once the fashion.</p> +<p>Invitations to her house were eagerly sought after, and her entertainments +were described in column articles by the press.</p> +<p>This state of things continued only six months, however. Then +it began to be whispered about that the Baroness was in arrears for +her rent. Several of her servants had gone away in a high state +of temper at the titled mistress who had failed to pay them a cent of +wages since they came to the country with her; and one day the neighbours +saw her fine carriage horses led away by the sheriff.</p> +<p>A week later society was electrified by the announcement of the marriage +of Baroness Le Fevre to Mr Brown, a wealthy widower who owned the best +shoe store in Beryngford.</p> +<p>Mr Brown owned ten children also, but the youngest was a boy of sixteen, +absent in college. The other nine were married and settled in +comfortable homes.</p> +<p>Mr Brown died at the expiration of a year. This one year had +taught him more of womankind than he had learned in all his sixty and +nine years before; and, feeling that it is never too late to profit +by learning, Mr Brown discreetly made his will, leaving all his property +save the widow’s “thirds” equally divided among his +ten children.</p> +<p>The Baroness made a futile effort to break the will, on the ground +that he was not of sound mind when it was drawn up; but the effort cost +her several hundred of her few thousand dollars and the increased enmity +of the ten Brown children, and availed her nothing. An important +part of the widow’s third was the Brown mansion, a large, commodious +house built many years before, when the village was but a country town. +Everybody supposed the Baroness, as she was still called, half in derision +and half from the American love of mouthing a title, would offer this +house for sale, and depart for fresh fields and pastures new. +But the Baroness never did what she was expected to do.</p> +<p>Instead of offering her house for sale, she offered “Rooms +to Let,” and turned the family mansion into a fashionable lodging-house.</p> +<p>Its central location, and its adjacence to several restaurants and +boarding houses, rendered it a convenient place for business people +to lodge, and the handsome widow found no trouble in filling her rooms +with desirable and well-paying patrons. In a spirit of fun, people +began to speak of the old Brown mansion as “The Palace,” +and in a short time the lodging-house was known by that name, just as +its mistress was known as “Baroness Brown.”</p> +<p>The Palace yielded the Baroness something like two hundred dollars +a month, and cost her only the wages and keeping of three servants; +or rather the wages of two and the keeping of three; for to Berene Dumont, +her maid and personal attendant, she paid no wages.</p> +<p>The Baroness did not rise till noon, and she always breakfasted in +bed. Sometimes she remained in her room till mid-afternoon. +Berene served her breakfast and lunch, and looked after the servants +to see that the lodgers’ rooms were all in order. These +were the services for which she was given a home. But in truth +the young woman did much more than this; she acted also as seamstress +and milliner for her mistress, and attended to the marketing and ran +errands for her. If ever a girl paid full price for her keeping, +it was Berene, and yet the Baroness spoke frequently of “giving +the poor thing a home.”</p> +<p>It had all come about in this way. Pierre Dumont kept a second-hand +book store in Beryngford. He was French, and the national characteristic +of frugality had assumed the shape of avarice in his nature. He +was, too, a petty tyrant and a cruel husband and father when under the +influence of absinthe, a state in which he was usually to be found.</p> +<p>Berene was an only child, and her mother, whom she worshipped, said, +when dying, “Take care of your poor father, Berene. Do everything +you can to make him happy. Never desert him.”</p> +<p>Berene was fourteen at that time. She had never been at school, +but she had been taught to read and write both French and English, for +her mother was an American girl who had been disinherited by her grandparents, +with whom she lived, for eloping with her French teacher—Pierre +Dumont. Rheumatism and absinthe turned the French professor into +a shopkeeper before Berene was born. The grandparents had died +without forgiving their granddaughter, and, much as the unhappy woman +regretted her foolish marriage, she remained a patient and devoted wife +to the end of her life, and imposed the same patience and devotion when +dying on her daughter.</p> +<p>At sixteen, Berene was asked to sacrifice herself on the altar of +marriage to a man three times her age; one Jacques Letellier, who offered +generously to take the young girl as payment for a debt owed by his +convivial comrade, M. Dumont. Berene wept and begged piteously +to be spared this horrible sacrifice of her young life, whereupon Pierre +Dumont seized his razor and threatened suicide as the other alternative +from the dishonour of debt, and Berene in terror yielded her word and +herself the next day to the debasing mockery of marriage with a depraved +old gambler and <i>roué.</i></p> +<p>Six months later Jacques Letellier died in a fit of apoplexy and +Berene was freed from her chains; but freed only to keep on in a life +of martyrdom as servant and slave to the caprices of her father, until +his death. When he was finally well buried under six feet of earth, +Berene found herself twenty years of age, alone in the world with just +one thousand dollars in money, the price brought by her father’s +effects.</p> +<p>Without education or accomplishments, she was the possessor of youth, +health, charm, and a voice of wonderful beauty and power; a voice which +it was her dream to cultivate, and use as a means of support. +But how could she ever cultivate it? The thousand dollars in her +possession was, she knew, but a drop in the ocean of expense a musical +education would entail. And she must keep that money until she +found some way by which to support herself.</p> +<p>Baroness Brown had attended the sale of old Dumont’s effects. +She had often noticed the young girl in the shop, and in the street, +and had been struck with the peculiar elegance and refinement of her +appearance. Her simple lawn or print gowns were made and worn +in a manner befitting a princess. Her nails were carefully kept, +despite all the household drudgery which devolved upon her.</p> +<p>The Baroness was a shrewd woman and a clever reasoner. She +needed a thrifty, prudent person in her house to look after things, +and to attend to her personal needs. Since she had opened the +Palace as a lodging-house, this need had stared her in the face. +Servants did very well in their places, but the person she required +was of another and superior order, and only to be obtained by accident +or by advertising and the paying of a large salary. Now the Baroness +had been in the habit of thinking that her beauty and amiability were +quite equivalent to any favours she received from humanity at large. +Ever since she was a plump girl in short dresses, she had learned that +smiles and compliments from her lips would purchase her friends of both +sexes, who would do disagreeable duties for her. She had never +made it a custom to pay out money for any service she could obtain otherwise. +So now as she looked on this young woman who, though a widow, seemed +still a mere child, it occurred to her that Fate had with its usual +kindness thrown in her path the very person she needed.</p> +<p>She offered Berene “a home” at the Palace in return for +a few small services. The lonely girl, whose strangely solitary +life with her old father had excluded her from all social relations +outside, grasped at this offer from the handsome lady whom she had long +admired from a distance, and went to make her home at the Palace.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Berene had been several months in her new home when Preston Cheney +came to lodge at the Palace.</p> +<p>He met her on the stairway the first morning after his arrival, as +he was descending to the street door.</p> +<p>Bringing up a tray covered with a snowy napkin, she stepped to one +side and paused, to make room for him to pass.</p> +<p>Preston was not one of those young men who find pastime in flirtations +with nursery maids or kitchen girls. The very thought of it offended +his good taste. Once, in listening to the boastful tales of a +modern Don Juan, who was relating his gallant adventures with a handsome +waiter girl at a hotel, Preston had remarked, “I would as soon +think of using my dinner napkin for a necktie, as finding romance with +a servant girl.”</p> +<p>Yet he appreciated a snowy, well-laundried napkin in its place, and +he was most considerate and thoughtful in his treatment of servants.</p> +<p>He supposed Berene to be an upper servant of the house, and yet, +as he glanced at her, a strange and unaccountable feeling of interest +seized upon him. The creamy pallor of her skin, colourless save +for the full red lips, the dark eyes full of unutterable longing, the +aristocratic poise of the head, the softly rounded figure, elegant in +its simple gown and apron, all impressed him as he had never before +been impressed by any woman.</p> +<p>It was several days before he chanced to see her again, and then +only for a moment as she passed through the hall; but he heard a trill +of song from her lips, which added to his interest and curiosity. +“That girl is no common servant,” he said to himself, and +he resolved to learn more about her.</p> +<p>It had been the custom of the Baroness to keep herself quite hidden +from her lodgers. They seldom saw her, after the first business +interview. Therefore it was a matter of surprise to the young +editor when he came home from his office one night, just after twelve +o’clock, and found the mistress of the mansion standing in the +hall by the register, in charming evening attire.</p> +<p>She smiled upon him radiantly. “I have just come in from +a benefit concert,” she said, “and I am as hungry as a bear. +Now I cannot endure eating alone at night. I knew it was near +your hour to return, so I waited for you. Will you go down to +the dining-room with me and have a Welsh rarebit? I am going to +make one in my chafing dish.”</p> +<p>The young man hid his surprise under a gallant smile, and offering +the Baroness his arm descended to the basement dining-room with her. +He had heard much about the complicated life of this woman, and he felt +a certain amount of natural curiosity in regard to her. He had +met her but once, and that was on the day when he had called to engage +his room, a little more than two weeks past.</p> +<p>He had thought her an excellent type of the successful American adventuress +on that occasion, and her quiet and dull life in this ordinary town +puzzled him. He could not imagine a woman of that order existing +a whole year without an adventure; as a rule he knew that those blonde +women with large hips and busts, and small waists and feet, are as unable +to live without excitement as a fish without water.</p> +<p>Yet, since the death of Mr Brown, more than a year past, the Baroness +had lived the life of a recluse. It puzzled him, as a student +of human nature.</p> +<p>But, in fact, the Baroness was a skilled general in planning her +campaigns. She seldom plunged into action unprepared.</p> +<p>She knew from experience that she could not live in a large city +and not use an enormous amount of money.</p> +<p>She was tired of taking great risks, and she knew that without the +aid of money and a fine wardrobe she was not able to attract men as +she had done ten years before.</p> +<p>As long as she remained in Beryngford she would be adding to her +income every month, and saving the few thousands she possessed. +She would be saving her beauty, too, by keeping early hours and living +a temperate life; and if she carefully avoided any new scandal, her +past adventures would be dim in the minds of people when, after a year +or two more of retirement and retrenchment, she sallied forth to new +fields, under a new name, if need be, and with a comfortably filled +purse.</p> +<p>It was in this manner that the Baroness had reasoned; but from the +hour she first saw Preston Cheney, her resolutions wavered. He +impressed her most agreeably; and after learning about him from the +daily papers, and hearing him spoken of as a valuable acquisition to +Beryngford’s intellectual society, the Baroness decided to come +out of her retirement and enter the lists in advance of other women +who would seek to attract this newcomer.</p> +<p>To the fading beauty in her late thirties, a man in the early twenties +possesses a peculiar fascination; and to the Baroness, clothed in weeds +for a husband who died on the eve of his seventieth birthday, the possibility +of winning a young man like Preston Cheney overbalanced all other considerations +in her mind. She had never been a vulgar coquette to whom all +men were prey. She had always been more or less discriminating. +A man must be either very attractive or very rich to win her regard. +Mr Brown had been very rich, and Preston Cheney was very attractive.</p> +<p>“He is more than attractive, he is positively <i>fascinating</i>,” +she said to herself in the solitude of her room after the tête-à-tête +over the Welsh rarebit that evening. “I don’t know +when I have felt such a pleasure in a man’s presence. Not +since—” But the Baroness did not allow herself to +go back so far. “If there is any fruit I <i>detest</i>, +it is <i>dates</i>,” she often said laughingly. “Some +people delight in a good memory—I delight in a good forgettory +of the past, with its telltale milestones of birthdays and anniversaries +of marriages, deaths and divorces.”</p> +<p>“Mr Cheney said I looked very young to have been twice married. +Twice!” and she laughed aloud before her mirror, revealing the +pink arch of her mouth, and two perfect sets of yellow-white teeth, +with only one blemishing spot of gold visible. “I wonder +if he meant it, though?” she mused. “And the fact +that I <i>do</i> wonder is the sure proof that I am really interested +in this man. As a rule, I never believe a word men say, though +I delight in their flattery all the same. It makes me feel comfortable +even when I know they are lying. But I should really feel hurt +if I thought Mr Cheney had not meant what he said. I don’t +believe he knows much about women, or about himself lower than his brain. +He has never studied his heart. He is all ambition. If an +ambitious and unsophisticated youth of twenty-five or twenty-eight does +get infatuated with a woman of my age—he is a perfect toy in her +hands. Ah, well, we shall see what we shall see.” +And the Baroness finished her massage in cold cream, and put her blonde +head on the pillow and went sound asleep.</p> +<p>After that first tête-à-tête supper the fair widow +managed to see Preston at least once or twice a week. She sent +for him to ask his advice on business matters, she asked him to aid +her in changing the position of the furniture in a room when the servants +were all busy, and she invited him to her private parlour for lunch +every Sunday afternoon. It was during one of these chats over +cake and wine that the young man spoke of Berene. The Baroness +had dropped some remarks about her servants, and Preston said, in a +casual tone of voice which hid the real interest he felt in the subject, +“By the way, one of your servants has quite an unusual voice. +I have heard her singing about the halls a few times, and it seems to +me she has real talent.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that is Miss Dumont—Berene Dumont—she is not +an absolute servant,” the Baroness replied; “she is a most +unfortunate young woman to whom my heart went out in pity, and I have +given her a home. She is really a widow, though she refuses to +use her dead husband’s name.”</p> +<p>“A widow?” repeated Preston with surprise and a queer +sensation of annoyance at his heart; “why, from the glimpse I +had of her I thought her a young girl.”</p> +<p>“So she is, not over twenty-one at most, and woefully ignorant +for that age,” the Baroness said, and then she proceeded to outline +Berene’s history, laying a good deal of stress upon her own charitable +act in giving the girl a home.</p> +<p>“She is so ignorant of life, despite the fact that she has +been married, and she is so uneducated and helpless, I could not bear +to see her cast into the path of designing people,” the Baroness +said. “She has a strong craving for an education, and I +give her good books to read, and good advice to ponder over, and I hope +in time to come she will marry some honest fellow and settle down to +a quiet, happy home life. The man who brings us butter and eggs +from the country is quite fascinated with her, but she does not deign +him a glance.” And then the Baroness talked of other things.</p> +<p>But the history he had heard remained in Preston Cheney’s mind +and he could not drive the thought of this girl away. No wonder +her eyes were sad! Better blood ran in her veins than coursed +under the pink flesh of the Baroness, he would wager; she was the unfortunate +victim of a combination of circumstances, which had defrauded her of +the advantages of youth.</p> +<p>He spoke with her in the hall one morning not long after that; and +then it grew to be a daily occurrence that he talked with her a few +moments, and before many weeks had passed the young man approached the +Baroness with a request.</p> +<p>“I have become interested in your protégée Miss +Dumont,” he said. “You have done so much for her that +you have stirred my better nature and made me anxious to emulate your +example. In talking with her in the hall one day I learned her +great desire for a better education, and her anxiety to earn money. +Now it has occurred to me that I might aid her in both ways. We +need two or three more girls in our office. We need one more in +the type-setting department. As <i>The Clarion</i> is a morning +paper, and you never need Miss Dumont’s services after five o’clock, +she could work a few hours in the office, earn a small salary, and gain +something in the way of an education also, if she were ambitious enough +to do so. Nearly all my early education was gained as a printer. +She tells me she is faulty in the matter of spelling, and this would +be excellent training for her. You have, dear madam, inspired +the girl with a desire for more knowledge, and I hope you will let me +carry on the good work you have begun.”</p> +<p>Preston had approached the matter in a way that could not fail to +bring success—by flattering the vanity and pride of the Baroness. +So elated was she with the agreeable references to herself, that she +never suspected the young man’s deep personal interest in the +girl. She believed in the beginning that he was showing Berene +this kind attention solely to please the mistress.</p> +<p>Berene entered the office as type-setter, and made such astonishing +progress that she was promoted to the position of proof-reader ere six +months had passed. And hour by hour, day by day, week by week, +the strange influence which she had exerted on her employer, from the +first moment of their meeting, grew and strengthened, until he realised +with a sudden terror that his whole being was becoming absorbed by an +intense passion for the girl.</p> +<p>Meantime the Baroness was growing embarrassing in her attentions. +The young man was not conceited, nor prone to regard himself as an object +of worship to the fair sex. He had during the first few months +believed the Baroness to be amusing herself with his society. +He had not flattered himself that a woman of her age, who had seen so +much of the world, and whose ambitions were so unmistakable, could regard +him otherwise than as a diversion.</p> +<p>But of late the truth had forced itself upon him that the woman wished +to entangle him in a serious affair. He could not afford to jeopardise +his reputation at the very outset of his career by any such entanglement, +or by the appearance of one. He cast about for some excuse to +leave the Palace, yet this would separate him in a measure from his +association with Berene, beside incurring the enmity of the Baroness, +and possibly causing Berene to suffer from her anger as well.</p> +<p>He seemed to be caught like a fly in a net. And again the thought +of his future and his ambitions confronted him, and he felt abashed +in his own eyes, as he realised how far away these ambitions had seemed +of late, since he had allowed his emotions to overrule his brain.</p> +<p>What was this ignorant daughter of a French professor, that she should +stand between him and glory, riches and power? Desperate diseases +needed desperate remedies. He had been an occasional caller at +the Lawrence homestead ever since he came to Beryngford. Without +being conceited on the subject, he realised that Mabel Lawrence would +not reject him as a suitor.</p> +<p>The masculine party is very dull, or the feminine very deceptive, +when a man makes a mistake in his impressions on this subject.</p> +<p>That afternoon the young editor left his office at five o’clock +and asked Miss Lawrence to be his wife.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Preston Cheney walked briskly down the street after he left his fiancée, +his steps directed toward the Palace. It was seven o’clock, +and he knew the Baroness would be at home.</p> +<p>He had determined upon heroic treatment for his own mental disease +(as he regarded his peculiar sentiments toward Berene Dumont), and he +had decided upon a similar course of treatment for the Baroness.</p> +<p>He would confide his engagement to her at once, and thus put an end +to his embarrassing position in the Palace, as well as to establish +his betrothal as a fact—and to force himself to so regard it. +It was strange reasoning for a young man in the very first hour of his +new rôle of bridegroom elect, but this particular groom elect +had deliberately placed himself in a peculiar position, and his reasoning +was not, of course, that of an ardent and happy lover.</p> +<p>Already he was galled by his new fetters; already he was feeling +a sense of repulsion toward the woman he had asked to be his wife: and +because of these feelings he was more eager to nail himself hand and +foot to the cross he had builded.</p> +<p>He was obliged to wait some time before the Baroness came into the +reception-room; and when she came he observed that she had made an elaborate +toilet in his honour. Her sumptuous shoulders billowed over the +low-cut blue corsage like apple-dumplings over a china dish. Her +waist was drawn in to an hourglass taper, while her ample hips spread +out beneath like the heavy mason work which supports a slender column. +Tiny feet encased in pretty slippers peeping from beneath her silken +skirts looked oddly out of proportion with the rest of her generous +personality, and reminded Preston of the grotesque cuts in the humorous +weeklies, where well-known politicians were represented with large heads +and small extremities. Artistic by nature, and with an eye to +form, he had never admired the Baroness’s type of beauty, which +was the theme of admiration for nearly every other man in Beryngford. +Her face, with its infantine colouring, its large, innocent azure eyes, +and its short retroussé features, he conceded to be captivatingly +pretty, however, and it seemed unusually so this evening. Perhaps +because he had so recently looked upon the sharp, sallow face of his +fiancée.</p> +<p>Preston frequently came to his room about this hour, after having +dined and before going to the office for his final duties; but he seldom +saw the Baroness on these occasions, unless through her own design.</p> +<p>“You were surprised to receive my message, no doubt, saying +I wished to see you,” he began. “But I have something +I feel I ought to tell you, as it may make some changes in my habits, +and will of course eventually take me away from these pleasant associations.” +He paused for a second, and the Baroness, who had seated herself on +the divan at his side, leaned forward and looked inquiringly in his +face.</p> +<p>“You are going away?” she asked, with a tremor in her +voice. “Is it not very sudden?”</p> +<p>“No, I am not going away,” he replied, “not from +Beryngford—but I shall doubtless leave your house ere many months. +I am engaged to be married to Miss Mabel Lawrence. You are the +first person to whom I have imparted the news, but you have been so +kind, and I feel that you ought to know it in time to secure a desirable +tenant for my room.”</p> +<p>Again there was a pause. The rosy face of the Baroness had +grown quite pale, and an unpleasant expression had settled about the +corners of her small mouth. She waved a feather fan to and fro +languidly. Then she gave a slight laugh and said:</p> +<p>“Well, I must confess that I am surprised. Miss Lawrence +is the last woman in the world whom I would have imagined you to select +as a wife. Yet I congratulate you on your good sense. You +are very ambitious, and you can rise to great distinction if you have +the right influence to aid you. Judge Lawrence, with his wealth +and position, is of all men the one who can advance your interests, +and what more natural than that he should advance the interests of his +son-in-law? You are a very wise youth and I again congratulate +you. No romantic folly will ever ruin your life.”</p> +<p>There was irony and ridicule in her voice and face, and the young +man felt his cheek tingle with anger and humiliation. The Baroness +had read him like an open book—as everyone else doubtless would +do. It was bitterly galling to his pride, but there was nothing +to do, save to keep a bold front, and carry out his rôle with +as much dignity as possible.</p> +<p>He rose, spoke a few formal words of thanks to the Baroness for her +kindness to him, and bowed himself from her presence, carrying with +him down the street the memory of her mocking eyes.</p> +<p>As he entered his private office, he was amazed to see Berene Dumont +sitting in his chair fast asleep, her head framed by her folded arms, +which rested on his desk. Against the dark maroon of her sleeve, +her classic face was outlined like a marble statuette. Her long +lashes swept her cheek, and in the attitude in which she sat, her graceful, +perfectly-proportioned figure displayed each beautiful curve to the +best advantage.</p> +<p>To a noble nature, the sight of even an enemy asleep, awakes softening +emotions, while the sight of a loved being in the unconsciousness of +slumber stirs the fountain of affection to its very depths.</p> +<p>As the young editor looked upon the girl before him, a passion of +yearning love took possession of him. A wild desire to seize her +in his arms and cover her pale face with kisses, made his heart throb +to suffocation and brought cold beads to his brow; and just as these +feelings gained an almost uncontrollable dominion over his reason, will +and judgment, the girl awoke and started to her feet in confusion.</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr Cheney, pray forgive me!” she cried, looking +more beautiful than ever with the flush which overspread her face. +“I came in to ask about a word in your editorial which I could +not decipher. I waited for you, as I felt sure you would be in +shortly—and I was so <i>tired</i> I sat down for just a second +to rest—and that is all I knew about it. You must forgive +me, sir!—I did not mean to intrude.”</p> +<p>Her confusion, her appealing eyes, her magnetic voice were all fuel +to the fire raging in the young man’s heart. Now that she +was for ever lost to him through his own deliberate action, she seemed +tenfold more dear and to be desired. Brain, soul, and body all +seemed to crave her; he took a step forward, and drew in a quick breath +as if to speak; and then a sudden sense of his own danger, and an overwhelming +disgust for his weakness swept over him, and the intense passion the +girl had aroused in his heart changed to unreasonable anger.</p> +<p>“Miss Dumont,” he said coldly, “I think we will +have to dispense with your services after to-night. Your duties +are evidently too hard for you. You can leave the office at any +time you wish. Good-night.”</p> +<p>The girl shrank as if he had struck her, looked up at him with wide, +wondering eyes, waited for a moment as if expecting to be recalled, +then, as Mr Cheney wheeled his chair about and turned his back upon +her, she suddenly sped away without a word.</p> +<p>She left the office a few moments later; but it was not until after +eleven o’clock that she dragged herself up two flights of stairs +toward her room on the attic floor at the Palace. She had been +walking the streets like a mad creature all that intervening time, trying +to still the agonising pain in her heart. Preston Cheney had long +been her ideal of all that was noble, grand and good, she worshipped +him as devout pagans worshipped their sacred idols; and, without knowing +it, she gave him the absorbing passion which an intense woman gives +to her lover.</p> +<p>It was only now that he had treated her with such rough brutality, +and discharged her from his employ for so slight a cause, that the knowledge +burst upon her tortured heart of all he was to her.</p> +<p>She paused at the foot of the third and last flight of stairs with +a strange dizziness in her head and a sinking sensation at her heart.</p> +<p>A little less than half-an-hour afterwards Preston Cheney unlocked +the street door and came in for the night. He had done double +his usual amount of work and had finished his duties earlier than usual. +To avoid thinking after he sent Berene away, he had turned to his desk +and plunged into his labour with feverish intensity. He wrote +a particularly savage editorial on the matter of over-immigration, and +his leaders on political questions of the day were all tinctured with +a bitterness and sarcasm quite new to his pen. At midnight that +pen dropped from his nerveless hand, and he made his way toward the +Palace in a most unenviable state of mind and body.</p> +<p>Yet he believed he had done the right thing both in engaging himself +to Miss Lawrence and in discharging Berene. Her constant presence +about the office was of all things the most undesirable in his new position.</p> +<p>“But I might have done it in a decent manner if I had not lost +all control of myself,” he said as he walked home. “It +was brutal the way I spoke to her; poor child, she looked as if I had +beat her with a bludgeon. Well, it is just as well perhaps that +I gave her good reason to despise me.”</p> +<p>Since Berene had gone into the young man’s office as an employé +her good taste and another reason had caused her to avoid him as much +as possible in the house. He seldom saw more than a passing glimpse +of her in the halls, and frequently whole days elapsed that he met her +only in the office. The young man never suspected that this fact +was due in great part to the suggestion of jealousy in the manner of +the Baroness toward the young girl ever after he had shown so much interest +in her welfare. Sensitive to the mental atmosphere about her, +as a wind harp to the lightest breeze, Berene felt this unexpressed +sentiment in the breast of her “benefactress” and strove +to avoid anything which could aggravate it.</p> +<p>With a lagging step and a listless air, Preston made his way up the +first of two flights of stairs which intervened between the street door +and his room. The first floor was in darkness; but in the upper +hall a dim light was always left burning until his return. As +he reached the landing, he was startled to see a woman’s form +lying at the foot of the attic stairs, but a few feet from the door +of his room. Stooping down, he uttered a sudden exclamation of +pained surprise, for it was upon the pallid, unconscious face of Berene +Dumont that his eyes fell. He lifted the lithe figure in his sinewy +arms, and with light, rapid steps bore her up the stairs and in through +the open door of her room.</p> +<p>“If she is dead, I am her murderer,” he thought. +But at that moment she opened her eyes and looked full into his, with +a gaze which made his impetuous, uncontrolled heart forget that any +one or anything existed on earth but this girl and his love for her.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>One of the greatest factors in the preservation of the Baroness’s +beauty had been her ability to sleep under all conditions. The +woman who can and does sleep eight or nine hours out of each twenty-four +is well armed against the onslaught of time and trouble.</p> +<p>To say that such women do not possess heart enough or feeling enough +to suffer is ofttimes most untrue.</p> +<p>Insomnia is a disease of the nerves or of the stomach, rather than +the result of extreme emotion. Sometimes the people who sleep +the most profoundly at night in times of sorrow, suffer the more intensely +during their waking hours. Disguised as a friend, deceitful Slumber +comes to them only to strengthen their powers of suffering, and to lend +a new edge to pain.</p> +<p>The Baroness was not without feeling. Her temperament was far +from phlegmatic. She had experienced great cyclones of grief and +loss in her varied career, though many years had elapsed since she had +known what the French call a “white night.”</p> +<p>But the night following her interview with Preston Cheney she never +closed her eyes in sleep. It was in vain that she tried all known +recipes for producing slumber. She said the alphabet backward +ten times; she counted one thousand; she conjured up visions of sheep +jumping the time-honoured fence in battalions, yet the sleep god never +once drew near.</p> +<p>“I am certainly a brilliant illustration of the saying that +there is no fool like an old fool,” she said to herself as the +night wore on, and the strange sensation of pain and loss which Preston +Cheney’s unexpected announcement had caused her gnawed at her +breast like a rat in a wainscot.</p> +<p>That she had been unusually interested in the young editor she knew +from the first; that she had been mortally wounded by Cupid’s +shaft she only now discovered. She had passed through a divorce, +two “affairs” and a legitimate widowhood, without feeling +any of the keen emotions which now drove sleep from her eyes. +A long time ago, longer than she cared to remember, she had experienced +such emotions, but she had supposed such folly only possible in the +high tide of early youth. It was absurd, nay more, it was ridiculous +to lie awake at her time of life thinking about a penniless country +youth whose mother she might almost have been. In this bitterly +frank fashion the Baroness reasoned with herself as she lay quite still +in her luxurious bed, and tried to sleep.</p> +<p>Yet despite her frankness, her philosophy and her reasoning, the +rasping hurt at her heart remained—a hurt so cruel it seemed to +her the end of all peace or pleasure in life.</p> +<p>It is harder to bear the suffocating heat of a late September day +which the year sometimes brings, than all the burning June suns.</p> +<p>The Baroness heard the click of Preston’s key in the street +door, and she listened to his slow step as he ascended the stairs. +She heard him pause, too, and waited for the sound of the opening of +his room door, which was situated exactly above her own. But she +listened in vain, her ears, brain and heart on the alert with surprise, +curiosity, and at last suspicion. The Baroness was as full of +curiosity as a cat.</p> +<p>It was not until just before dawn that she heard his step in the +hall, and his door open and close.</p> +<p>An hour later a sharp ring came at the street door bell. A +message for Mr Preston, the servant said, in answer to her mistress’s +question as she descended from the room above.</p> +<p>“Was Mr Preston awake when you rapped on his door?” asked +the Baroness.</p> +<p>“Yes, madame, awake and dressed.”</p> +<p>Mr Preston ran hurriedly through the halls and out to the street +a moment later; and the Baroness, clothed in a dressing-gown and silken +slippers, tiptoed lightly to his room. The bed had not been occupied +the whole night. On the table lay a note which the young man had +begun when interrupted by the message which he had thrown down beside +it.</p> +<p>The Baroness glanced at the note, on which the ink was still moist, +and read, “My dear Miss Lawrence, I want you to release me from +the ties formed only yesterday—I am basely unworthy—” +here the note ended. She now turned her attention to the message +which had prevented the completion of the letter. It was signed +by Judge Lawrence and ran as follows:-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“My Dear Boy,—My wife was taken mortally ill this morning +just before daybreak. She cannot live many hours, our physician +says. Mabel is in a state of complete nervous prostration caused +by the shock of this calamity. I wish you would come to us at +once. I fear for my dear child’s reason unless you prove +able to calm and quiet her through this ordeal. Hasten then, my +dear son; every moment before you arrive will seem an age of sorrow +and anxiety to me. “S. LAWRENCE.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>A strange smile curved the corners of the Baroness’s lips as +she finished reading this note and tiptoed down the stairs to her own +room again.</p> +<p>Meantime the hour for her hot water arrived, and Berene did not appear. +The Baroness drank a quart of hot water every morning as a tonic for +her system, and another quart after breakfast to reduce her flesh. +Her excellent digestive powers and the clear condition of her blood +she attributed largely to this habit.</p> +<p>After a few moments she rang the bell vigorously. Maggie, the +chambermaid, came in answer to the call.</p> +<p>“Please ask Miss Dumont” (Berene was always known to +the other servants as Miss Dumont) “to hurry with the hot water,” +the Baroness said.</p> +<p>“Miss Dumont has not yet come downstairs, madame.”</p> +<p>“Not come down? Then will you please call her, Maggie?”</p> +<p>The Baroness was always polite to her servants. She had observed +that a graciousness of speech toward her servants often made up for +a deficiency in wages. Maggie ascended to Miss Dumont’s +room, and returned with the information that Miss Dumont had a severe +headache, and begged the indulgence of madame this morning.</p> +<p>Again that strange smile curved the corners of the Baroness’s +lips.</p> +<p>Maggie was requested to bring up hot water and coffee, and great +was her surprise to find the Baroness moving about the room when she +appeared with the tray.</p> +<p>Half-an-hour later Berene Dumont, standing by an open window with +her hands clasped behind her head, heard a light tap on her door. +In answer to a mechanical “Come,” the Baroness appeared.</p> +<p>The rustle of her silken morning gown caused Berene to turn suddenly +and face her; and as she met the eyes of her visitor the young woman’s +pallor gave place to a wave of deep crimson, which dyed her face and +neck like the shadow of a red flag falling on a camellia blossom.</p> +<p>“Maggie tells me you are ill this morning,” the Baroness +remarked after a moment’s silence. “I am surprised +to find you up and dressed. I came to see if I could do anything +for you.”</p> +<p>“You are very kind,” Berene answered, while in her heart +she thought how cruel was the expression in the face of the woman before +her, and how faded she appeared in the morning light. “But +I think I shall be quite well in a little while, I only need to keep +quiet for a few hours.”</p> +<p>“I fear you passed a sleepless night,” the Baroness remarked +with a solicitous tone, but with the same cruel smile upon her lips. +“I see you never opened your bed. Something must have been +in the air to keep us all awake. I did not sleep an hour, and +Mr Cheney never entered his room till near morning. Yet I can +understand his wakefulness—he announced his engagement to Miss +Mabel Lawrence to me last evening, and a young man is not expected to +woo sleep easily after taking such an important step as that. +Judge Lawrence sent for him a few hours ago to come and support Miss +Mabel during the trial that the day is to bring them in the death of +Mrs Lawrence. The physician has predicted the poor invalid’s +near end. Sorrow follows close on joy in this life.”</p> +<p>There was a moment’s silence; then Miss Dumont said: “I +think I will try to get a little sleep now, madame. I thank you +for your kind interest in me.”</p> +<p>The Baroness descended to her room humming an air from an old opera, +and settled to the task of removing as much as possible all evidences +of fatigue and sleeplessness from her countenance.</p> +<p>It has been said very prettily of the spruce-tree, that it keeps +the secret of its greenness well; so well that we hardly know when it +sheds its leaves. There are women who resemble the spruce in their +perennial youth, and the vigilance with which they guard the secret +of it. The Baroness was one of these. Only her mirror shared +this secret.</p> +<p>She was an adept at the art of preservation, and greatly as she disliked +physical exertion, she toiled laboriously over her own person an hour +at least every day, and never employed a maid to assist her. One’s +rival might buy one’s maid, she reasoned, and it was well to have +no confidant in these matters.</p> +<p>She slipped off her dressing-gown and corset and set herself to the +task of pinching and mauling her throat, arms and shoulders, to remove +superfluous flesh, and strengthen muscles and fibres to resist the flabby +tendencies which time produces. Then she used the dumb-bells vigorously +for fifteen minutes, and that was followed by five minutes of relaxation. +Next she lay on the floor flat upon her face, her arms across her back, +and lifted her head and chest twenty-five times. This exercise +was to replace flesh with muscle across the abdomen. Then she +rose to her feet, set her small heels together, turned her toes out +squarely, and, keeping her body upright bent her knees out in a line +with her hips, sinking and rising rapidly fifteen times. This +produced pliancy of the body, and induced a healthy condition of the +loins and adjacent organs.</p> +<p>To further fight against the deadly enemy of obesity, she lifted +her arms above her head slowly until she touched her finger tips, at +the same time rising upon her tiptoes, while she inhaled a long breath, +and as slowly dropped to her heels, and lowered her arms while she exhaled +her breath. While these exercises had been taking place, a tin +cup of water had been coming to the boiling point over an alcohol lamp. +This was now poured into a china bowl containing a small quantity of +sweet milk, which was always brought on her breakfast tray.</p> +<p>The Baroness seated herself before her mirror, in a glare of cruel +light which revealed every blemish in her complexion, every line about +the mouth and eyes.</p> +<p>“You are really hideously passée, mon amie,” she +observed as she peered at herself searchingly; “but we will remedy +all that.”</p> +<p>Dipping a soft linen handkerchief in the bowl of steaming milk and +water, she applied it to her face, holding it closely over the brow +and eyes and about the mouth, until every pore was saturated and every +weary drawn tissue fed and strengthened by the tonic. After this +she dashed ice-cold water over her face. Still there were little +folds at the corners of the eyelids, and an ugly line across the brow, +and these were manipulated with painstaking care, and treated with mysterious +oils and fragrant astringents and finally washed in cool toilet water +and lightly brushed with powder, until at the end of an hour’s +labour, the face of the Baroness had resumed its roseleaf bloom and +transparent smoothness for which she was so famous. And when by +the closest inspection at the mirror, in the broadest light, she saw +no flaw in skin, hair, or teeth, the Baroness proceeded to dress for +a drive. Even the most jealous rival would have been obliged to +concede that she looked like a woman of twenty-eight, that most fascinating +of all ages, as she took her seat in the carriage.</p> +<p>In the early days of her life in Beryngford, when as the Baroness +Le Fevre she had led society in the little town, Mrs Lawrence had been +one of her most devoted friends; Judge Lawrence one of her most earnest, +if silent admirers. As “Baroness Brown” and as the +landlady of “The Palace” she had still maintained her position +as friend of the family, and the Lawrences, secure in their wealth and +power, had allowed her to do so, where some of the lower social lights +had dropped her from their visiting lists.</p> +<p>The Baroness seemed to exercise a sort of hypnotic power over the +fretful, nervous invalid who shared Judge Lawrence’s name, and +this influence was not wholly lost upon the Judge himself, who never +looked upon the Baroness’s abundant charms, glowing with health, +without giving vent to a profound sigh like some hungry child standing +before a confectioner’s window.</p> +<p>The news of Mrs Lawrence’s dangerous illness was voiced about +the town by noon, and therefore the Baroness felt safe in calling at +the door to make inquiries, and to offer any assistance which she might +be able to render. Knowing her intimate relations with the mistress +of the house, the servant admitted her to the parlour and announced +her presence to Judge Lawrence, who left the bedside of the invalid +to tell the caller in person that Mrs Lawrence had fallen into a peaceful +slumber, and that slight hopes were entertained of her possible recovery. +Scarcely had the words passed his lips, however, when the nurse in attendance +hurriedly called him. “Mrs Lawrence is dead!” she +cried. “She breathed only twice after you left the room.”</p> +<p>The Baroness, shocked and startled, rose to go, feeling that her +presence longer would be an intrusion.</p> +<p>“Do not go,” cried the Judge in tones of distress. +“Mabel is nearly distracted, and this news will excite her still +further. We thought this morning that she was on the verge of +serious mental disorder. I sent for her fiancé, Mr Cheney, +and he has calmed her somewhat. You always exerted a soothing +and restful influence over my wife, and you may have the same power +with Mabel. Stay with us, I beg of you, through the afternoon +at least.”</p> +<p>The Baroness sent her carriage home and remained in the Lawrence +mansion until the following morning. The condition of Miss Lawrence +was indeed serious. She passed from one attack of hysteria to +another, and it required the constant attention of her fiancé +and her mother’s friend to keep her from acts of violence.</p> +<p>It was after midnight when she at last fell asleep, and Preston Cheney +in a state of complete exhaustion was shown to a room, while the Baroness +remained at the bedside of Miss Lawrence.</p> +<p>When the Baroness and Mr Cheney returned to the Palace they were +struck with consternation to learn that Miss Dumont had packed her trunk +and departed from Beryngford on the three o’clock train the previous +day.</p> +<p>A brief note thanking the Baroness for her kindness, and stating +that she had imposed upon that kindness quite too long, was her only +farewell. There was no allusion to her plans or her destination, +and all inquiry and secret search failed to find one trace of her. +She seemed to vanish like a phantom from the face of the earth.</p> +<p>No one had seen her leave the Palace, save the laundress, Mrs Connor; +and little this humble personage dreamed that Fate was reserving for +her an important rôle in the drama of a life as yet unborn.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Whatever hope of escape from his self-imposed bondage Preston Cheney +had entertained when he began the note to his fiancée which the +Baroness had read, completely vanished during the weeks which followed +the death of Mrs Lawrence.</p> +<p>Mabel’s nervous condition was alarming, and her father seemed +to rely wholly upon his future son-in-law for courage and moral support +during the trying ordeal. Like most large men of strong physique, +Judge Lawrence was as helpless as an infant in the presence of an ailing +woman; and his experience as the husband of a wife whose nerves were +the only notable thing about her, had given him an absolute terror of +feminine invalids.</p> +<p>Mabel had never been very fond of her mother; she had not been a +loving or a dutiful daughter. A petulant child and an irritable, +fault-finding young woman, who had often been devoid of sympathy for +her parents, she now exhibited such an excess of grief over the death +of her mother that her reason seemed to be threatened.</p> +<p>It was, in fact, quite as much anger as grief which caused her nervous +paroxysms. Mabel Lawrence had never since her infancy known what +it was to be thwarted in a wish. Both parents had been slaves +to her slightest caprice and she had ruled the household with a look +or a word. Death had suddenly deprived her of a mother who was +necessary to her comfort and to whose presence she was accustomed, and +her heart was full of angry resentment at the fate which had dared to +take away a member of her household. It had never entered her +thoughts that death could devastate <i>her</i> home.</p> +<p>Other people lost fathers and mothers, of course; but that Mabel +Lawrence could be deprived of a parent seemed incredible. Anger +is a strong ingredient in the excessive grief of every selfish nature.</p> +<p>Preston Cheney became more and more disheartened with the prospect +of his future, as he studied the character and temperament of his fiancée +during her first weeks of loss.</p> +<p>But the net which he had woven was closing closer and closer about +him, and every day he became more hopelessly entangled in its meshes.</p> +<p>At the end of one month, the family physician decided that travel +and change of air and scene was an imperative necessity for Miss Lawrence. +Judge Lawrence was engaged in some important legal matters which rendered +an extended journey impossible for him. To trust Mabel in the +hands of hired nurses alone, was not advisable. It was her father +who suggested an early marriage and a European trip for bride and groom, +as the wisest expedient under the circumstances.</p> +<p>Like the prisoner in the iron room, who saw the walls slowly but +surely closing in to crush out his life, Preston Cheney saw his wedding +day approaching, and knew that his doom was sealed.</p> +<p>There were many desperate hours, when, had he possessed the slightest +clue to the hiding-place of Berene Dumont, he would have flown to her, +even knowing that he left disgrace and death behind him. He realised +that he now owed a duty to the girl he loved, higher and more imperative +by far than any he owed to his fiancée. But he had not +the means to employ a detective to find Berene; and he was not sure +that, if found, she might not spurn him. He had heard and read +of cases where a woman’s love had turned to bitter loathing and +hatred for the man who had not protected her in a moment of weakness. +He could think of no other cause which would lead Berene to disappear +in such a mysterious manner at such a time, and so the days passed and +he married Mabel Lawrence two months after the death of her mother, +and the young couple set forth immediately on extended foreign travels. +Fifteen months later they returned to Beryngford with their infant daughter +Alice. Mrs Cheney was much improved in health, though still a +great sufferer from nervous disorders, a misfortune which the child +seemed to inherit. She would lie and scream for hours at a time, +clenching her small fists and growing purple in the face, and all efforts +of parents, nurses or physicians to soothe her, served only to further +increase her frenzy. She screamed and beat the air with her thin +arms and legs until nature exhausted itself, then she fell into a heavy +slumber and awoke in good spirits.</p> +<p>These attacks came on frequently in the night, and as they rendered +Mrs Cheney very “nervous,” and caused a panic among the +nurses, it devolved upon the unhappy father to endeavour to soothe the +violent child. And while he walked the floor with her or leaned +over her crib, using all his strong mental powers to control these unfortunate +paroxysms, no vision came to him of another child lying cuddled in her +mother’s arms in a distant town, a child of wonderful beauty and +angelic nature, born of love, and inheriting love’s divine qualities.</p> +<p>A few months before the young couple returned to their native soil, +they received a letter which caused Preston the greatest astonishment, +and Mabel some hours of hysterical weeping. This letter was written +by Judge Lawrence, and announced his marriage to Baroness Brown. +Judge Lawrence had been a widower more than a year when the Baroness +took the book of his heart, in which he supposed the hand of romance +had long ago written “finis,” and turning it to his astonished +eyes revealed a whole volume of love’s love.</p> +<p>It is in the second reading of their hearts that the majority of +men find the most interesting literature.</p> +<p>Before the Baroness had been three months his wife, the long years +of martyrdom he had endured as the husband of Mabel’s mother seemed +like a nightmare dream to Judge Lawrence; and all of life, hope and +happiness was embodied in the woman who ruled his destiny with a hypnotic +sway no one could dispute, yet a woman whose heart still throbbed with +a stubborn and lawless passion for the man who called her husband father.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>More than two decades had passed since Preston Cheney followed the +dictates of his ambition and married Mabel Lawrence.</p> +<p>Many of his early hopes and desires had been realised during these +years. He had attained to high political positions; and honour +and wealth were his to enjoy. Yet Senator Cheney, as he was now +known, was far from a happy man. Disappointment was written in +every lineament of his face, restlessness and discontent spoke in his +every movement, and at times the spirit of despair seemed to look from +the depths of his eyes.</p> +<p>To a man of any nobility of nature, there can be small satisfaction +in honours which he knows are bought with money and bribes; and to the +proud young American there was the additional sting of knowing that +even the money by which his honours were purchased was not his own.</p> +<p>It was the second Mrs Lawrence (still designated as the “Baroness” +by her stepdaughter and by old acquaintances) to whom Preston owed the +constant reminder of his dependence upon the purse of his father-in-law. +In those subtle, occult ways known only to a jealous and designing nature, +the Baroness found it possible to make Preston’s life a torture, +without revealing her weapons of warfare to her husband; indeed, without +allowing him to even smell the powder, while she still kept up a constant +small fire upon the helpless enemy.</p> +<p>Owing to the fact that Mabel had come as completely under the hypnotic +influence of the Baroness as the first Mrs Lawrence had been during +her lifetime, Preston was subjected to a great deal more of her persecutions +than would otherwise have been possible. Mabel was never happier +than when enjoying the companionship of her new mother; a condition +of things which pleased the Judge as much as it made his son-in-law +miserable.</p> +<p>With a malicious adroitness possible only to such a woman as the +second Mrs Lawrence, she endeared herself to Mrs Cheney, by a thousand +flattering and caressing ways, and by a constant exhibition of sympathy, +which to a weak and selfish nature is as pleasing as it is distasteful +to the proud and strong. And by this inexhaustible flow of sympathetic +feeling, she caused the wife to drift farther and farther away from +her husband’s influence, and to accuse him of all manner of shortcomings +and faults which had not suggested themselves to her own mind.</p> +<p>Mabel had not given or demanded a devoted love when she married Preston +Cheney. She was quite satisfied to bear his name, and do the honours +of his house, and to be let alone as much as possible. It was +the name, not the estate, of wifehood she desired; and motherhood she +had accepted with reluctance and distaste.</p> +<p>Never was a more undesired or unwelcome child born than her daughter +Alice, and the helpless infant shared with its father the resentful +anger which dominated her unwilling mother the wretched months before +its advent into earth life.</p> +<p>To be let alone and allowed to follow her own whims and desires, +and never to be crossed in any wish, was all Mrs Cheney asked of her +husband.</p> +<p>This rôle was one he had very willingly permitted her to pursue, +since with every passing week and month he found less and less to win +or bind him to his wife. Wretched as this condition of life was, +it might at least have settled into a monotonous calm, undisturbed by +strife, but for the molesting “sympathy” of the Baroness.</p> +<p>“Poor thing, here you are alone again,” she would say +on entering the house where Mabel lounged or lolled, quite content with +her situation until the tone and words of her stepmother aroused a resentful +consciousness of being neglected. Again the Baroness would say:</p> +<p>“I do think you are such a brave little darling to carry so +smiling a face about with all you have to endure.” Or, “Very +few wives would bear what you bear and hide every vestige of unhappiness +from the world. You are a wonderful and admirable character in +my eyes.” Or, “It seems so strange that your husband +does not adore you—but men are blind to the best qualities in +women like you. I never hear Mr Cheney praising other women without +a sad and almost resentful feeling in my heart, realising how superior +you are to all of his favourites.” It was the insidious +effect of poisoned flattery like this, which made the Baroness a ruling +power in the Cheney household, and at the same time turned an already +cold and unloving wife into a jealous and nagging tyrant who rendered +the young statesman’s home the most dreaded place on earth to +him, and caused him to live away from it as much as possible.</p> +<p>His only child, Alice, a frail, hysterical girl, devoid of beauty +or grace, gave him but little comfort or satisfaction. Indeed +she was but an added disappointment and pain in his life. Indulged +in every selfish thought by her mother and the Baroness, peevish and +petulant, always ailing, complaining and discontented, and still a victim +to the nervous disorders inherited from her mother, it was small wonder +that Senator Cheney took no more delight in the rôle of father +than he had found in the rôle of husband.</p> +<p>Alice was given every advantage which money could purchase. +But her delicate health had rendered systematic study of any kind impossible, +and her twentieth birthday found her with no education, with no use +of her reasoning or will powers, but with a complete and beautiful wardrobe +in which to masquerade and air her poor little attempts at music, art, +or conversation.</p> +<p>Judge Lawrence died when Alice was fifteen years of age, leaving +both his widow and his daughter handsomely provided for.</p> +<p>The Baroness not only possessed the Beryngford homestead, but a house +in Washington as well; and both of these were occupied by tenants, for +Mabel insisted upon having her stepmother dwell under her own roof. +Senator Cheney had purchased a house in New York to gratify his wife +and daughter, and it was here the family resided, when not in Washington +or at the seaside resorts. Both women wished to forget, and to +make others forget, that they had ever lived in Beryngford. They +never visited the place and never referred to it. They desired +to be considered “New Yorkers” and always spoke of themselves +as such.</p> +<p>The Baroness was now hopelessly passée. Yet it was the +revealing of the inner woman, rather than the withering of the exterior, +which betrayed her years. The woman who understands the art of +bodily preservation can, with constant toil and care, retain an appearance +of youth and charm into middle life; but she who would pass that dreaded +meridian, and still remain a goodly sight for the eyes of men, must +possess, in addition to all the secrets of the toilet, those divine +elixirs, unselfishness and love for humanity. Faith in divine +powers, too, and resignation to earthly ills, must do their part to +lend the fading eye lustre and to give a softening glow to the paling +cheek. Before middle life, it is the outer woman who is seen; +after middle life, skilled as she may be by art and however endowed +my nature, yet the inner woman becomes visible to the least discerning +eye, and the thoughts and feelings which have dominated her during all +the past, are shown upon her face and form like printed words upon the +open leaves of a book. That is why so many young beauties become +ugly old ladies, and why plain faces sometimes are beautiful in age.</p> +<p>The Baroness had been unremitting in the care of her person, and +she had by this toil saved her figure from becoming gross, retaining +the upright carriage and the tapering waist of youth, though she was +upon the verge of her sixtieth birthday. Her complexion, too, +owing to her careful diet, her hours of repose, and her knowledge of +skin foods and lotions, remained smooth, fair and unfurrowed. +But the long-guarded expression in her blue eyes of childlike innocence +had given place to the hard look of a selfish and unhappy nature, and +the lines about the small mouth accented the expression of the eyes.</p> +<p>It was, despite its preservation of Nature’s gifts, and despite +its forced smiles, the face of a selfish, cruel pessimist, disappointed +in her past and with no uplifting faith to brighten the future.</p> +<p>The Baroness had been the wife of Judge Lawrence a number of years, +before she relinquished her hopes of one day making Preston Cheney respond +to the passion which burned unquenched in her breast. It had been +with the idea of augmenting the interests of the man whom she believed +to be her future lover, that she aided and urged on her husband in his +efforts to procure place and honour for his son-in-law.</p> +<p>It was this idea which caused her to widen the breach between wife +and husband by every subtle means in her power; and it was when this +idea began to lose colour and substance and drop away among the wreckage +of past hopes, that the Baroness ceased to compliment and began to taunt +Preston Cheney with his dependence upon his father-in-law, and to otherwise +goad and torment the unhappy man. And Preston Cheney grew into +the habit of staying anywhere longer than at home.</p> +<p>During the last ten years the Baroness had seemed to abandon all +thoughts of gallant adventure. When the woman who has found life +and pleasures only in coquetry and conquest is forced to relinquish +these delights, she becomes either very devout or very malicious.</p> +<p>The Baroness was devoid of religious feelings, and she became, therefore, +the most bitter and caustic of cynical critics at heart, though she +guarded her expression of these sentiments from policy.</p> +<p>Yet to Mabel she expressed herself freely, knowing that her listener +enjoyed no conversation so much as that of gossip and criticism. +A beautiful or attractive woman was the target for her most cruel shafts +of sarcasm, and indeed no woman was safe from her secret malice save +Mabel and Alice, over whom she found it a greater pleasure to exercise +her hypnotic control. For Alice, indeed, the Baroness entertained +a peculiar affection. The fact that she was the child of the man +to whom she had given the strongest passion of her life, and the girl’s +lack of personal beauty, and her unfortunate physical condition, awoke +a medley of love, pity and protection in the heart of this strange woman.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The Baroness had always been a churchgoing woman, yet she had never +united with any church, or subscribed to any creed.</p> +<p>Religious observance was only an implement of social warfare with +her. Wherever her lot was cast, she made it her business to discover +which church the fashionable people of the town frequented, and to become +a familiar and liberal-handed personage in that edifice.</p> +<p>Judge Lawrence and his family were High Church Episcopalians, and +the second Mrs Lawrence slipped gracefully into the pew vacated by the +first, and became a much more important feature in the congregation, +owing to her good health and extreme desire for popularity. Mabel +and Alice were devout believers in the orthodox dogmas which have taken +the place of the simple teachings of Christ in so many of our churches +to-day. They believed that people who did not go to church would +stand a very poor chance of heaven; and that a strict observance of +a Sunday religion would ensure them a passport into God’s favour. +When they returned from divine service and mangled the character and +attire of their neighbours over the Sunday dinner-table, no idea entered +their heads or hearts that they had sinned against the Holy Ghost. +The pastor of their church knew them to be selfish, worldly-minded women; +yet he administered the holy sacrament to them without compunction of +conscience, and never by question or remark implied a doubt of their +true sincerity in things religious. They believed in the creed +of his church, and they paid liberally for the support of that church. +What more could he ask?</p> +<p>This had been true of the pastor in Beryngford, and it proved equally +true of their spiritual adviser in Washington and in New York.</p> +<p>Just across the aisle from the Lawrences sat a rich financier, in +his sumptuously cushioned pew. During six days of each week he +was engaged in crushing life and hope out of the hearts of the poor, +under his juggernaut wheels of monopoly. His name was known far +and near, as that of a powerful and cruel speculator, who did not hesitate +to pauperise his nearest friends if they placed themselves in his reach. +That he was a thief and a robber, no one ever denied; yet so colossal +were his thefts, so bold and successful his robberies, the public gazed +upon him with a sort of stupefied awe, and allowed him to proceed, while +miserable tramps, who stole overcoats or robbed money drawers, were +incarcerated for a term of years, and then sternly refused assistance +afterward by good people, who place no confidence in jail birds.</p> +<p>But each Sunday this successful robber occupied his high-priced church +pew, devoutly listening to the divine word.</p> +<p>He never failed to partake of the holy communion, nor was his right +to do so ever questioned.</p> +<p>The rector of the church knew his record perfectly; knew that his +gains were ill-gotten blood money, ground from the suffering poor by +the power of monopoly, and from confiding fools by smart lures and scheming +tricks. But this young clergyman, having recently been called +to preside over the fashionable church, had no idea of being so impolite +as to refuse to administer the bread and wine to one of its most liberal +supporters!</p> +<p>There were constant demands upon the treasury of the church; it required +a vast outlay of money to maintain the splendour and elegance of the +temple which held its head so high above many others; and there were +large charities to be sustained, not to mention its rector’s princely +salary. The millionaire pewholder was a liberal giver. It +rarely occurs to the fashionable dispensers of spiritual knowledge to +ask whether the devil’s money should be used to gild the Lord’s +temple; nor to question if it be a wise religion which allows a man +to rob his neighbours on weekdays, to give to the cause of charity on +Sundays.</p> +<p>And yet if every clergyman and priest in the land were to make and +maintain these standards for their followers, there might be an astonishing +decrease in the needs of the poor and unfortunate.</p> +<p>Were every church member obliged to open his month’s ledgers +to a competent jury of inspectors, before he was allowed to take the +holy sacrament and avow himself a humble follower of Christ, what a +revolution might ensue! How church spires would crumble for lack +of support, and poorhouses lessen in number for lack of inmates!</p> +<p>But the leniency of clergymen toward the shortcomings of their wealthy +parishioners is often a touching lesson in charity to the thoughtful +observer who stands outside the fold.</p> +<p>For how could they obtain money to convert the heathen, unless this +sweet cloak of charity were cast over the sins of the liberal rich? +Christ is crucified by the fashionable clergymen to-day more cruelly +than he was by the Jews of old.</p> +<p>Senator Cheney was not a church member, and he seldom attended service. +This was a matter of great solicitude to his wife and daughter. +The Baroness felt it to be a mistake on the part of Senator Cheney, +and even Judge Lawrence, who adored his son-in-law, regretted the young +man’s indifference to things spiritual. But with all Preston +Cheney’s worldly ambitions and weaknesses, there was a vein of +sincerity in his nature which forbade his feigning a faith he did not +feel; and the daily lives of the three feminine members of his family +were so in disaccord with his views of religion that he felt no incentive +to follow in their footsteps. Judge Lawrence he knew to be an +honest, loyal-hearted, God and humanity loving man. “A true +Christian by nature and education,” he said of his father-in-law, +“but I am not born with his tendency to religious observance, +and I see less and less in the churches to lead me into the fold. +It seems to me that these religious institutions are getting to be vast +monopolistic corporations like the railroads and oil trusts, and the +like. I see very little of the spirit of Christ in orthodox people +to-day.”</p> +<p>Meanwhile Senator Cheney’s purse was always open to any demand +the church made; he believed in churches as benevolent if not soul-saving +institutions, and cheerfully aided their charitable work.</p> +<p>The rector of St Blank’s, the fashionable edifice where the +ladies of the Cheney household obtained spiritual manna in New York, +died when Alice was sixteen years old. He was a good old man, +and a sincere Episcopalian, and whatever originality of thought or expression +he may have lacked, his strict observance of the High Church code of +ethics maintained the tone of his church and rendered him an object +of reverence to his congregation. His successor was Reverend Arthur +Emerson Stuart, a young man barely thirty years of age, heir to a comfortable +fortune, gifted with strong intellectual powers and dowered with physical +attractions.</p> +<p>It was not a case of natural selection which caused Arthur Stuart +to adopt the church as a profession. It was the result of his +middle name. Mrs Stuart had been an Emerson—in some remote +way her family claimed relationship with Ralph Waldo. Her father +and grandfather and several uncles had been clergymen. She married +a broker, who left her a rich widow with one child, a son. From +the hour this son was born his mother designed him for the clergy, and +brought him up with the idea firmly while gently fixed in his mind.</p> +<p>Whatever seed a mother plants in a young child’s mind, carefully +watches over, prunes and waters, and exposes to sun and shade, is quite +certain to grow, if the soil is not wholly stony ground.</p> +<p>Arthur Stuart adored his mother, and stifling some commercial instincts +inherited from the parental side, he turned his attention to the ministry +and entered upon his chosen work when only twenty-five years of age. +Eloquent, dramatic in speech, handsome, and magnetic in person, independent +in fortune, and of excellent lineage on the mother’s side, it +was not surprising that he was called to take charge of the spiritual +welfare of fashionable St Blank’s Church on the death of the old +pastor; or that, having taken the charge, he became immensely popular, +especially with the ladies of his congregation. And from the first +Sabbath day when they looked up from their expensive pew into the handsome +face of their new rector, there was but one man in the world for Mabel +Cheney and her daughter Alice, and that was the Reverend Arthur Emerson +Stuart.</p> +<p>It has been said by a great and wise teacher, that we may worship +the god in the human being, but never the human being as God. +This distinction is rarely drawn by women, I fear, when their spiritual +teacher is a young and handsome man. The ladies of the Rev. Arthur +Stuart’s congregation went home to dream, not of the Creator and +Maker of all things, nor of the divine Man, but of the handsome face, +stalwart form and magnetic voice of the young rector. They feasted +their eyes upon his agreeable person, rather than their souls upon his +words of salvation. Disappointed wives, lonely spinsters and romantic +girls believed they were coming nearer to spiritual truths in their +increased desire to attend service, while in fact they were merely drawn +nearer to a very attractive male personality.</p> +<p>There was not the holy flame in the young clergyman’s own heart +to ignite other souls; but his strong magnetism was perceptible to all, +and they did not realise the difference. And meantime the church +grew and prospered amazingly.</p> +<p>It was observed by the congregation of St Blank’s Church, shortly +after the advent of the new rector, that a new organist also occupied +the organ loft; and inquiry elicited the fact that the old man who had +officiated in that capacity during many years, had been retired on a +pension, while a young lady who needed the position and the salary had +been chosen to fill the vacancy.</p> +<p>That the change was for the better could not be questioned. +Never before had such music pealed forth under the tall spires of St +Blank’s. The new organist seemed inspired; and many people +in the fashionable congregation, hearing that this wonderful musician +was a young woman, lingered near the church door after service to catch +a glimpse of her as she descended from the loft.</p> +<p>A goodly sight she was, indeed, for human eyes to gaze upon. +Young, of medium height and perfectly symmetry of shape, her blonde +hair and satin skin and eyes of velvet darkness were but her lesser +charms. That which riveted the gaze of every beholder, and drew +all eyes to her whereever she passed, was her air of radiant health +and happiness, which emanated from her like the perfume from a flower.</p> +<p>A sad countenance may render a heroine of romance attractive in a +book, but in real life there is no charm at once so rare and so fascinating +as happiness. Did you ever think how few faces of the grown up, +however young, are really happy in expression? Discontent, restlessness, +longing, unsatisfied ambition or ill health mar ninety and nine of every +hundred faces we meet in the daily walks of life. When we look +upon a countenance which sparkles with health and absolute joy in life, +we turn and look again and yet again, charmed and fascinated, though +we do not know why.</p> +<p>It was such a face that Joy Irving, the new organist of St Blank’s +Church, flashed upon the people who had lingered near the door to see +her pass out. Among those who lingered was the Baroness; and all +day she carried about with her the memory of that sparkling countenance; +and strive as she would, she could not drive away a vague, strange uneasiness +which the sight of that face had caused her.</p> +<p>Yet a vision of youth and beauty always made the Baroness unhappy, +now that both blessings were irrevocably lost to her.</p> +<p>This particular young face, however, stirred her with those half-painful, +half-pleasurable emotions which certain perfumes awake in us—vague +reminders of joys lost or unattained, of dreams broken or unrealised. +Added to this, it reminded her of someone she had known, yet she could +not place the resemblance.</p> +<p>“Oh, to be young and beautiful like that!” she sighed +as she buried her face in her pillow that night. “And since +I cannot be, if only Alice had that girl’s face.”</p> +<p>And because Alice did not have it, the Baroness went to sleep with +a feeling of bitter resentment against its possessor, the beautiful +young organist of St Blank’s.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Up in the loft of St Blank’s Church the young organist had +been practising the whole morning. People paused on the street +to listen to the glorious sounds, and were thrilled by them, as one +is only thrilled when the strong personality of the player enters into +the execution.</p> +<p>Down into the committee-room, where several deacons and the young +rector were seated discussing some question pertaining to the well-being +of the church, the music penetrated too, causing the business which +had brought them together, to be suspended temporarily.</p> +<p>“It is a sin to talk while music like that can be heard,” +remarked one man. “You have found a genius in this new organist, +Rector.”</p> +<p>The young man nodded silently, his eyes half closed with an expression +of somewhat sensuous enjoyment of the throbbing chords which vibrated +in perfect unison with the beating of his strong pulses.</p> +<p>“Where does she come from?” asked the deacon, as a pause +in the music occurred.</p> +<p>“Her father was an earnest and prominent member of the little +church down-town of which I had charge during several years,” +replied the young man. “Miss Irving was scarcely more than +a child when she volunteered her services as organist. The position +brought her no remuneration, and at that time she did not need it. +Young as she was, the girl was one of the most active workers among +the poor, and I often met her in my visits to the sick and unfortunate. +She had been a musical prodigy from the cradle, and Mr Irving had given +her every advantage to study and perfect her art.</p> +<p>“I was naturally much interested in her. Mr Irving’s +long illness left his wife and daughter without means of support, at +his death, and when I was called to take charge of St Blank’s, +I at once realised the benefit to the family as well as to my church +could I secure the young lady the position here as organist. I +am glad that my congregation seem so well satisfied with my choice.”</p> +<p>Again the organ pealed forth, this time in that passionate music +originally written for the Garden Scene in <i>Faust</i>, and which the +church has boldly taken and arranged as a quartette to the words, “Come +unto me.”</p> +<p>It may be that to some who listen, it is the divine spirit which +makes its appeal through those stirring strains; but to the rector of +St Blank’s, at least on that morning, it was human heart, calling +unto human heart. Mr Stuart and the deacons sat silently drinking +in the music. At length the rector rose. “I think +perhaps we had better drop the matter under discussion for to-day,” +he said. “We can meet here Monday evening at five o’clock +if agreeable to you all, and finish the details. There are other +and more important affairs waiting for me now.”</p> +<p>The deacons departed, and the young rector sank back in his chair, +and gave himself up to the enjoyment of the sounds which flooded not +only the room, but his brain, heart and soul.</p> +<p>“Queer,” he said to himself as the door closed behind +the human pillars of his church. “Queer, but I felt as if +the presence of those men was an intrusion upon something belonging +personally to me. I wonder why I am so peculiarly affected by +this girl’s music? It arouses my brain to action, it awakens +ambition and gives me courage and hope, and yet—” +He paused before allowing his feeling to shape itself into thoughts. +Then closing his eyes and clasping his hands behind his head while the +music surged about him, he lay back in his easy-chair as a bather might +lie back and float upon the water, and his unfinished sentence took +shape thus: “And yet stronger than all other feelings which her +music arouses in me, is the desire to possess the musician for my very +own for ever; ah, well! the Roman Catholics are wise in not allowing +their priests and their nuns to listen to all even so-called sacred +music.”</p> +<p>It was perhaps ten minutes later that Joy Irving became conscious +that she was not alone in the organ loft. She had neither heard +nor seen his entrance, but she felt the presence of her rector, and +turned to find him silently watching her. She played her phrase +to the end, before she greeted him with other than a smile. Then +she apologised, saying: “Even one’s rector must wait for +a musical phrase to reach its period. Angels may interrupt the +rendition of a great work, but not man. That were sacrilege. +You see, I was really praying, when you entered, though my heart spoke +through my fingers instead of my lips.”</p> +<p>“You need not apologise,” the young man answered. +“One who receives your smile would be ungrateful indeed if he +asked for more. That alone would render the darkest spot radiant +with light and welcome to me.”</p> +<p>The girl’s pink cheek flushed crimson, like a rose bathed in +the sunset colours of the sky.</p> +<p>“I did not think you were a man to coin pretty speeches,” +she said.</p> +<p>“Your estimate of me was a wise one. You read human nature +correctly. But come and walk in the park with me. You will +overtax yourself if you practise any longer. The sunlight and +the air are vying with each other to-day to see which can be the most +intoxicating. Come and enjoy their sparring match with me; I want +to talk to you about one of my unfortunate parishioners. It is +a peculiarly pathetic case. I think you can help and advise me +in the matter.”</p> +<p>It was a superb morning in early October. New York was like +a beautiful woman arrayed in her fresh autumn costume, disporting herself +before admiring eyes.</p> +<p>Absorbed in each other’s society, their pulses beating high +with youth, love and health; the young couple walked through the crowded +avenues of the great city, as happily and as naturally as Adam and Eve +might have walked in the Garden of Eden the morning after Creation.</p> +<p>Both were city born and city bred, yet both were as unfashionable +and untrammelled by custom as two children of the plains.</p> +<p>In the very heart of the greatest metropolis in America, there are +people who live and retain all the primitive simplicity of village life +and thought. Mr Irving had been one of these. Coming to +New York from an interior village when a young man, he had, through +simple and quiet tastes and religious convictions, kept himself wholly +free from the social life of the city in which he lived. After +his marriage his entire happiness lay in his home, and Joy was reared +by parents who made her world. Mrs Irving sympathised fully with +her husband in his distaste for society, and her delicate health rendered +her almost a recluse from the world.</p> +<p>A few pleasant acquaintances, no intimates, music, books, and a large +share of her time given to charitable work, composed the life of Joy +Irving.</p> +<p>She had never been in a fashionable assemblage; she had never attended +a theatre, as Mr Irving did not approve of them.</p> +<p>Extremely fond of outdoor life, she walked, unattended, wherever +her mood led her. As she had no acquaintances among society people, +she knew nothing and cared less for the rules which govern the promenading +habits of young women in New York. Her sweet face and graceful +figure were well known among the poorer quarters of the city, and it +was through her work in such places that Arthur Stuart’s attention +had first been called to her.</p> +<p>As for him, he was filled with that high, but not always wise, disdain +for society and its customs, which we so often find in town-bred young +men of intellectual pursuits. He was clean-minded, independent, +sure of his own purposes, and wholly indifferent to the opinions of +inferiors regarding his habits.</p> +<p>He loved the park, and he asked Joy to walk with him there, as freely +as he would have asked her to sit with him in a conservatory. +It was a great delight to the young girl to go.</p> +<p>“It seems such a pity that the women of New York get so little +benefit from this beautiful park,” she said as they strolled along +through the winding paths together. “The wealthy people +enjoy it in a way from their carriages, and the poor people no doubt +derive new life from their Sunday promenades here. But there are +thousands like myself who are almost wholly debarred from its pleasures. +I have always wanted to walk here, but once I came and a rude man in +a carriage spoke to me. Mother told me never to come alone again. +It seems strange to me that men who are so proud of their strength, +and who should be the natural protectors of woman, can belittle themselves +by annoying or frightening her when alone. I am sure that same +man would never think of speaking to me now that I am with you. +How cowardly he seems when you think of it! Yet I am told there +are many like him, though that was my only experience of the kind.”</p> +<p>“Yes, there are many like him,” the rector answered. +“But you must remember how short a time man has been evolving +from a lower animal condition to his present state, and how much higher +he is to-day than he was a hundred years ago even, when occasional drunkenness +was considered an attribute of a gentleman. Now it is a vice of +which he is ashamed.”</p> +<p>“Then you believe in evolution?” Joy asked with a note +of surprise in her voice.</p> +<p>“Yes, I surely do; nor does the belief conflict with my religious +faith. I believe in many things I could not preach from my pulpit. +My congregation is not ready for broad truths. I am like an eclectic +physician—I suit my treatment to my patient—I administer +the old school or the new school medicaments as the case demands.”</p> +<p>“It seems to me there can be but one school in spiritual matters,” +Joy said gravely—“the right one. And I think one should +preach and teach what he believes to be true and right, no matter what +his congregation demands. Oh, forgive me. I am very rude +to speak like that to you!” And she blushed and paled with +fright at her boldness.</p> +<p>They were seated on a rustic bench now, under the shadow of a great +tree.</p> +<p>The rector smiled, his eyes fixed with pleased satisfaction on the +girl’s beautiful face, with its changing colour and expression. +He felt he could well afford to be criticised or rebuked by her, if +the result was so gratifying to his sight. The young rector of +St Blank’s lived very much more in his senses than in his ideals.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you are right,” he said. “I sometimes +wish I had greater courage of my convictions. I think I could +have, were you to stimulate me with such words often. But my mother +is so afraid that I will wander from the old dogmas, that I am constantly +checking myself. However, in regard to the case I mentioned to +you—it is a delicate subject, but you are not like ordinary young +women, and you and I have stood beside so many sick-beds and death-beds +together that we can speak as man to man, or woman to woman, with no +false modesty to bar our speech.</p> +<p>“A very sad case has come to my knowledge of late. Miss +Adams, a woman who for some years has been a devout member of St Blank’s +Church, has several times mentioned her niece to me, a young girl who +was away at boarding school. A few months ago the young girl graduated +and came to live with this aunt. I remember her as a bright, buoyant +and very intelligent girl. I have not seen her now during two +months; and last week I asked Miss Adams what had become of her niece. +Then the poor woman broke into sobs and told me the sad state of affairs. +It seems that the girl Marah is her daughter. The poor mother +had believed she could guard the truth from her child, and had educated +her as her niece, and was now prepared to enjoy her companionship, when +some mischief-making gossip dug up the old scandal and imparted the +facts to Marah.</p> +<p>“The girl came to Miss Adams and demanded the truth, and the +mother confessed. Then the daughter settled into a profound melancholy, +from which nothing seemed to rouse her. She will not go out, remains +in the house, and broods constantly over her disgrace.</p> +<p>“It occurred to me that if Marah Adams could be brought out +of herself and interested in some work, or study, it would be the salvation +of her reason. Her mother told me she is an accomplished musician, +but that she refuses to touch her piano now. I thought you might +take her as an understudy on the organ, and by your influence and association +lead her out of herself. You could make her acquaintance through +approaching the mother who is a milliner, on business, and your tact +would do the rest. In all my large and wealthy congregation I +know of no other woman to whom I could appeal for aid in this delicate +matter, so I am sure you will pardon me. In fact, I fear were +the matter to be known in the congregation at all, it would lead to +renewed pain and added hurts for both Miss Adams and her daughter. +You know women can be so cruel to each other in subtle ways, and I have +seen almost death-blows dealt in church aisles by one church member +to another.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that is a terrible reflection on Christians,” cried +Joy, who, a born Christ-woman, believed that all professed church members +must feel the same divine spirit of sympathy and charity which burned +in her own sweet soul.</p> +<p>“No, it is a simple truth—an unfortunate fact,” +the young man replied. “I preach sermons at such members +of my church, but they seldom take them home. They think I mean +somebody else. These are the people who follow the letter and +not the spirit of the church. But one such member as you, recompenses +me for a score of the others. I felt I must come to you with the +Marah Adams affair.”</p> +<p>Joy was still thinking of the reflection the rector had cast upon +his congregation. It hurt her, and she protested.</p> +<p>“Oh, surely,” she said, “you cannot mean that I +am the only one of the professed Christians in your church who would +show mercy and sympathy to poor Miss Adams. Surely few, very few, +would forget Christ’s words to Mary Magdalene, ‘Go and sin +no more,’ or fail to forgive as He forgave. She has led +such a good life all these years.”</p> +<p>The rector smiled sadly.</p> +<p>“You judge others by your own true heart,” he said. +“But I know the world as it is. Yes, the members of my church +would forgive Miss Adams for her sin—and cut her dead. They +would daily crucify her and her innocent child by their cold scorn or +utter ignoring of them. They would not allow their daughters to +associate with this blameless girl, because of her mother’s misstep.</p> +<p>“It is the same in and out of the churches. Twenty people +will repeat Christ’s words to a repentant sinner, but nineteen +of that twenty interpolate a few words of their own, through tone, gesture +or manner, until ‘Go and sin no more’ sounds to the poor +unfortunate more like ‘Go just as far away from me and mine as +you can get—and sin no more!’ Only one in that score +puts Christ’s merciful and tender meaning into the phrase and +tries by sympathetic association to make it possible for the sinner +to sin no more. I felt you were that one, and so I appealed to +you in this matter about Marah Adams.”</p> +<p>Joy’s eyes were full of tears. “You must know more +of human nature than I do,” she said, “but I hate terribly +to think you are right in this estimate of the people of your congregation. +I will go and see what I can do for this girl to-morrow. Poor +child, poor mother, to pass through a second Gethsemane for her sin. +I think any girl or boy whose home life is shadowed, is to be pitied. +I have always had such a happy home, and such dear parents, the world +would seem insupportable, I am sure, were I to face it without that +background. Dear papa’s death was a great blow, and mother’s +ill health has been a sorrow, but we have always been so happy and harmonious, +and that, I think, is worth more than a fortune to a child. Poor, +poor Marah—unable to respect her mother, what a terrible thing +it all is!”</p> +<p>“Yes, it is a sad affair. I cannot help thinking it would +have been a pardonable lie if Miss Adams had denied the truth when the +girl confronted her with the story. It is the one situation in +life where a lie is excusable, I think. It would have saved this +poor girl no end of sorrow, and it could not have added much to the +mother’s burden. I think lying must have originated with +an erring woman.”</p> +<p>Joy looked at her rector with startled eyes. “A lie is +never excusable,” she said, “and I do not believe it ever +saves sorrow. But I see you do not mean what you say, you only +feel very sorry for the girl; and you surely do not forget that the +lie originated with Satan, who told a falsehood to Eve.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Ever since early girlhood Joy Irving had formed a habit of jotting +down in black and white her own ideas regarding any book, painting, +concert, conversation or sermon, which interested her, and epitomising +the train of thought to which they led.</p> +<p>The evening after her walk and talk with the rector of St Blank’s, +she took out her note-book, which bore a date four years old under its +title “My Impressions,” and read over the last page of entries. +They had evidently been written at the close of some Sabbath day and +ran as follows:-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Many a kneeling woman is more occupied with how her skirts hang than +how her prayers ascend. I am inclined to think we all ought to +wear a uniform to church if we would really worship there. God +must grow weary looking down on so many new bonnets.</p> +<p>I wore a smart hat to church to-day, and I found myself criticising +every other woman’s bonnet during service, so that I failed in +some of my responses.</p> +<p>If we could all be compelled by some mysterious power to <i>think +aloud</i> on Sunday, what a veritable holy day we would make of it! +Though we are taught from childhood that God hears our thoughts, the +best of us would be afraid to have our nearest friends know them.</p> +<p>I sometimes think it is a presumption on the part of any man to rise +in the pulpit and undertake to tell me about a Creator with whom I feel +every whit as well acquainted as he. I suppose such thoughts are +wicked, however, and should be suppressed.</p> +<p>It is a curious fact, that the most aggressively sensitive persons +are at heart the most conceited.</p> +<p>I wish people smiled more in church aisles. In fact, I think +we all laugh at one another too much and smile at one another too seldom.</p> +<p>After the devil had made all the trouble for woman he could with +the fig leaf, he introduced the French heel.</p> +<p>It is well to see the ridiculous side of things, but not of people.</p> +<p>Most of us would rather be popular than right.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>To these impressions Joy added the following:-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It is not the interior of one’s house, but the interior of +one’s mind which makes home.</p> +<p>It seems to me that to be, is to love. I can conceive of no +state of existence which is not permeated with this feeling toward something, +somebody or the illimitable “nothing” which is mother to +everything.</p> +<p>I wish we had more religion in the world and fewer churches.</p> +<p>People who believe in no God, invariably exalt themselves into His +position, and worship with the very idolatry they decry in others.</p> +<p>Music is the echo of the rhythm of God’s respirations.</p> +<p>Poetry is the effort of the divine part of man to formulate a worthy +language in which to converse with angels.</p> +<p>Painting and sculpture seem to me the most presumptuous of the arts. +They are an effort of man to outdo God in creation. He never made +a perfect form or face—the artist alone makes them.</p> +<p>I am sure I do not play the organ as well at St Blank’s as +I played it in the little church where I gave my services and was unknown. +People are praising me too much here, and this mars all spontaneity.</p> +<p>The very first hour of positive success is often the last hour of +great achievement. So soon as we are conscious of the admiring +and expectant gaze of men, we cease to commune with God. It is +when we are unknown to or neglected by mortals, that we reach up to +the Infinite and are inspired.</p> +<p>I have seen Marah Adams to-day, and I felt strangely drawn to her. +Her face would express all goodness if it were not so unhappy. +Unhappiness is a species of evil, since it is a discourtesy to God to +be unhappy.</p> +<p>I am going to do all I can for the girl to bring her into a better +frame of mind. No blame can be attached to her, and yet now that +I am face to face with the situation, and realise how the world regards +such a person, I myself find it a little hard to think of braving public +opinion and identifying myself with her. But I am going to overcome +such feelings, as they are cowardly and unworthy of me, and purely the +result of education. I am amazed, too, to discover this weakness +in myself.</p> +<p>How sympathetic dear mamma is! I told her about Marah, and +she wept bitterly, and has carried her eyes full of tears ever since. +I must be careful and tell her nothing sad while she is in such a weak +state physically.</p> +<p>I told mamma what the rector said about lying. She coincided +with him that Mrs Adams would have been justified in denying the truth +if she had realised how her daughter was to be affected by this knowledge. +A woman’s past belongs only to herself and her God, she says, +unless she wishes to make a confidant. But I cannot agree with +her or the rector. I would want the truth from my parents, however +much it hurt. Many sins which men regard as serious only obstruct +the bridge between our souls and truth. A lie burns the bridge.</p> +<p>I hope I am not uncharitable, yet I cannot conceive of committing +an act through love of any man, which would lower me in his esteem, +once committed. Yet of course I have had little experience in +life, with men, or with temptation. But it seems to me I could +not continue to love a man who did not seek to lead me higher. +The moment he stood before me and asked me to descend, I should realise +he was to be pitied—not adored.</p> +<p>I told mother this, and she said I was too young and inexperienced +to form decided opinions on such subjects, and she warned me that I +must not become uncharitable. She wept bitterly as she thought +of my becoming narrow or bigoted in my ideas, dear, tender-hearted mamma.</p> +<p>Death should be called the Great Revealer instead of the Great Destroyer.</p> +<p>Some people think the way into heaven is through embroidered altar +cloths.</p> +<p>The soul that has any conception of its own possibilities does not +fear solitude.</p> +<p>A girl told me to-day that a rude man annoyed her by staring at her +in a public conveyance. It never occurred to her that it takes +four eyes to make a stare annoying.</p> +<p>Astronomers know more about the character of the stars than the average +American mother knows about the temperament of her daughters.</p> +<p>To some women the most terrible thought connected with death is the +dates in the obituary notice.</p> +<p>As a rule, when a woman opens the door of an artistic career with +one hand, she shuts the door on domestic happiness with the other.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The rector of St Blank’s Church dined at the Cheney table or +drove in the Cheney establishment every week, beside which there were +always one or two confidential chats with the feminine Cheneys in the +parsonage on matters pertaining to the welfare of the church, and occasionally +to the welfare of humanity.</p> +<p>That Alice Cheney had conceived a sudden and consuming passion for +the handsome and brilliant rector of St Blank’s, both her mother +and the Baroness knew, and both were doing all in their power to further +the girl’s hopes.</p> +<p>While Alice resembled her mother in appearance and disposition, propensities +and impulses occasionally exhibited themselves which spoke of paternal +inheritance. She had her father’s strongly emotional nature, +with her mother’s stubbornness; and Preston Cheney’s romantic +tendencies were repeated in his daughter, without his reasoning powers. +Added to her father’s lack of self-control in any strife with +his passions, Alice possessed her mother’s hysterical nerves. +In fact, the unfortunate child inherited the weaknesses and faults of +both parents, without any of their redeeming virtues.</p> +<p>The passion which had sprung to life in her breast for the young +rector, was as strong and unreasoning as the infatuation which her father +had once experienced for Berene Dumont; but instead of struggling against +the feeling as her father had at least attempted to do, she dwelt upon +it with all the mulish persistency which her mother exhibited in small +matters, and luxuriated in romantic dreams of the future.</p> +<p>Mabel was wholly unable to comprehend the depth or violence of her +daughter’s feelings, but she realised the fact that Alice had +set her mind on winning Arthur Stuart for a husband, and she quite approved +of the idea, and saw no reason why it should not succeed. She +herself had won Preston Cheney away from all rivals for his favour, +and Alice ought to be able to do the same with Arthur, after all the +money which had been expended upon her wardrobe. Senator Cheney’s +daughter and Judge Lawrence’s granddaughter, surely was a prize +for any man to win as a wife.</p> +<p>The Baroness, however, reviewed the situation with more concern of +mind. She realised that Alice was destitute of beauty and charm, +and that Arthur Emerson Stuart (it would have been considered a case +of high treason to speak of the rector of St Blank’s without using +his three names) was independent in the matter of fortune, and so dowered +with nature’s best gifts that he could have almost any woman for +the asking whom he should desire. But the Baroness believed much +in propinquity; and she brought the rector and Alice together as often +as possible, and coached the girl in coquettish arts when alone with +her, and credited her with witticisms and bon-mots which she had never +uttered, when talking of her to the young rector.</p> +<p>“If only I could give Alice the benefit of my past career,” +the Baroness would say to herself at times. “I know so well +how to manage men; but what use is my knowledge to me now that I am +old? Alice is young, and even without beauty she could do so much, +if she only understood the art of masculine seduction. But then +it is a gift, not an acquired art, and Alice was not born with the gift.”</p> +<p>While Mabel and Alice had been centring their thoughts and attentions +on the rector, the Baroness had not forgotten the rector’s mother. +She knew the very strong affection which existed between the two, and +she had discovered that the leading desire of the young man’s +heart was to make his mother happy. With her wide knowledge of +human nature, she had not been long in discerning the fact that it was +not because of his own religious convictions that the rector had chosen +his calling, but to carry out the lifelong wishes of his beloved mother.</p> +<p>Therefore she reasoned wisely that Arthur would be greatly influenced +by his mother in his choice of a wife; and the Baroness brought all +her vast battery of fascination to bear on Mrs Stuart, and succeeded +in making that lady her devoted friend.</p> +<p>The widow of Judge Lawrence was still an imposing and impressive +figure wherever she went. Though no longer a woman who appealed +to the desires of men, she exhaled that peculiar mental aroma which +hangs ever about a woman who has dealt deeply and widely in affairs +of the heart. It is to the spiritual senses what musk is to the +physical; and while it may often repulse, it sometimes attracts, and +never fails to be noticed. About the Baroness’s mouth were +hard lines, and the expression of her eyes was not kind or tender; yet +she was everywhere conceded to be a universally handsome and attractive +woman. Quiet and tasteful in her dressing, she did not accentuate +the ravages of time by any mistaken frivolities of toilet, as so many +faded coquettes have done, but wisely suited her vestments to her appearance, +as the withering branch clothes itself in russet leaves, when the fresh +sap ceases to course through its veins. New York City is a vast +sepulchre of “past careers,” and the adventurous life of +the Baroness was quietly buried there with that of many another woman. +In the mad whirl of life there is small danger that any of these skeletons +will rise to view, unless the woman permits herself to strive for eminence +either socially or in the world of art.</p> +<p>While the Cheneys were known to be wealthy, and the Senator had achieved +political position, there was nothing in their situation to challenge +the jealousy of their associates. They moved in one of the many +circles of cultured and agreeable people, which, despite the mandate +of a M‘Allister, formed a varied and delightful society in the +metropolis; they entertained in an unostentatious manner, and there +was nothing in their personality to incite envy or jealousy. Therefore +the career of the Baroness had not been unearthed. That the widow +of Judge Lawrence, the stepmother of Mrs Cheney, was known as “The +Baroness” caused some questions, to be sure, but the simple answer +that she had been the widow of a French baron in early life served to +allay curiosity, while it rendered the lady herself an object of greater +interest to the majority of people.</p> +<p>Mrs Stuart, the rector’s mother, was one of those who were +most impressed by this incident in the life of Mrs Lawrence. “Family +pride” was her greatest weakness, and she dearly loved a title. +She thought Mrs Lawrence a typical “Baroness,” and though +she knew the title had only been obtained through marriage, it still +rendered its possessor peculiarly interesting in her eyes.</p> +<p>In her prime, the Baroness had been equally successful in cajoling +women and men. Though her day for ruling men was now over, she +still possessed the power to fascinate women when she chose to exert +herself. She did exert herself with Mrs Stuart, and succeeded +admirably in her design.</p> +<p>And one day Mrs Stuart confided her secret anxiety to the ear of +the Baroness; and that secret caused the cheek of the listener to grow +pale and the look of an animal at bay to come into her eyes.</p> +<p>“There is just one thing that gives me a constant pain at my +heart,” Mrs Stuart had said. “You have never been +a mother, yet I think your sympathetic nature causes you to understand +much which you have not experienced, and knowing as you do the great +pride I feel in my son’s career, and the ambition I have for him +to rise to the very highest pinnacle of success and usefulness, I am +sure you will comprehend my anxiety when I see him exhibiting an undue +interest in a girl who is in every way his inferior, and wholly unsuited +to fill the position his wife should occupy.”</p> +<p>The Baroness listened with a cold, sinking sensation at her heart</p> +<p>“I am sure your son would never make a choice which was not +agreeable to you,” she ventured.</p> +<p>“He might not marry anyone I objected to,” Mrs Stuart +replied, “but I dread to think his heart may be already gone from +his keeping. Young men are so susceptible to a pretty face and +figure, and I confess that Joy Irving has both. She is a good +girl, too, and a fine musician; but she has no family, and her alliance +with my son would be a great drawback to his career. Her father +was a grocer, I believe, or something of that sort; quite a common man, +who married a third-class actress, Joy’s mother. Mr Irving +was in very comfortable circumstances at one time, but a stroke of paralysis +rendered him helpless some four years ago. He died last year and +left his widow and child in straitened circumstances. Mrs Irving +is an invalid now, and Joy supports her with her music. Mr Irving +and Joy were members of Arthur Emerson’s former church (Mrs Stuart +always spoke of her son in that manner), and that is how my son became +interested in the daughter—an interest I supposed to be purely +that of a rector in his parishioner, until of late, when I began to +fear it took root in deeper soil. But I am sure, dear Baroness, +you can understand my anxiety.”</p> +<p>And then the Baroness, with drawn lips and anguished eyes, took both +of Mrs Stuart’s hands in hers, and cried out:</p> +<p>“Your pain, dear madam, is second to mine. I have no +child, to be sure, but as few mothers love I love Alice Cheney, my dear +husband’s granddaughter. My very life is bound up in her, +and she—God help us, she loves your son with her whole soul. +If he marries another it will kill her or drive her insane.”</p> +<p>The two women fell weeping into each other’s arms.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Preston Cheney conceived such a strong, earnest liking for the young +clergyman whom he met under his own roof during one of his visits home, +that he fell into the habit of attending church for the first time in +his life.</p> +<p>Mabel and Alice were deeply gratified with this intimacy between +the two men, which brought the rector to the house far oftener than +they could have tastefully done without the co-operation of the husband +and father. Besides, it looked well to have the head of the household +represented in the church. To the Baroness, also, there was added +satisfaction in attending divine service, now that Preston Cheney sat +in the pew. All hope of winning the love she had so longed to +possess, died many years before; and she had been cruel and unkind in +numerous ways to the object of her hopeless passion, yet like the smell +of dead rose leaves long shut in a drawer, there clung about this man +the faint, suggestive fragrance of a perished dream.</p> +<p>She knew that he did not love his wife, and that he was disappointed +in his daughter; and she did not at least have to suffer the pain of +seeing him lavish the affection she had missed, on others.</p> +<p>Mr Cheney had been called away from home on business the day before +the new organist took her place in St Blank’s Church. Nearly +a month had passed when he again occupied his pew.</p> +<p>Before the organist had finished her introduction, he turned to Alice, +saying:</p> +<p>“There has been a change here in the choir, since I went away, +and for the better. That is a very unusual musician. Do +you know who it is?”</p> +<p>“Some lady, I believe; I do not remember her name,” Alice +answered indifferently. Like her mother, Alice never enjoyed hearing +anyone praised. It mattered little who it was, or how entirely +out of her own line the achievements or accomplishments on which the +praise was bestowed, she still felt that petty resentment of small creatures +who believe that praise to others detracts from their own value.</p> +<p>A fortune had been expended on Alice’s musical education, yet +she could do no more than rattle through some mediocre composition, +with neither taste nor skill.</p> +<p>The money which has been wasted in trying to teach music to unmusical +people would pay our national debt twice over, and leave a competency +for every orphan in the land.</p> +<p>When the organist had finished her second selection, Mr Cheney addressed +the same question to his wife which he had addressed to Alice.</p> +<p>“Who is the new organist?” he queried. Mabel only +shook her head and placed her finger on her lip as a signal for silence +during service.</p> +<p>The third time it was the Baroness, sitting just beyond Mabel, to +whom Mr Cheney spoke. “That’s a very remarkable musician, +very remarkable,” he said. “Do you know anything about +her?”</p> +<p>“Yes, wait until we get home, and I will tell you all about +her,” the Baroness replied.</p> +<p>When the service was over, Mr Cheney did not pass out at once, as +was his custom. Instead he walked toward the pulpit, after requesting +his family to wait a moment.</p> +<p>The rector saw him and came down into the aisle to speak to him.</p> +<p>“I want to congratulate you on the new organist,” Mr +Cheney said, “and I want to meet her. Alice tells me it +is a lady. She must have devoted a lifetime to hard study to become +such a marvellous mistress of that difficult instrument.”</p> +<p>Arthur Stuart smiled. “Wait a moment,” he said, +“and I will send for her. I would like you to meet her, +and like her to meet your wife and family. She has few, if any, +acquaintances in my congregation.”</p> +<p>Mr Cheney went down the aisle, and joined the three ladies who were +waiting for him in the pew. All were smiling, for all three believed +that he had been asking the rector to accompany them home to dinner. +His first word dispelled the illusion.</p> +<p>“Wait here a moment,” he said. “Mr Stuart +is going to bring the organist to meet us. I want to know the +woman who can move me so deeply by her music.”</p> +<p>Over the faces of his three listeners there fell a cloud. Mabel +looked annoyed, Alice sulky, and a flush of the old jealous fury darkened +the brow of the Baroness. But all were smiling deceitfully when +Joy Irving approached.</p> +<p>Her radiant young beauty, and the expressions of admiration with +which Preston Cheney greeted her as a woman and an artist, filled life +with gall and wormwood for the three feminine listeners.</p> +<p>“What! this beautiful young miss, scarcely out of short frocks, +is not the musician who gave us that wonderful harmony of sounds. +My child, how did you learn to play like that in the brief life you +have passed on earth? Surely you must have been taught by the +angels before you came.”</p> +<p>A deep blush of pleasure at the words which, though so extravagant, +Joy felt to be sincere, increased her beauty as she looked up into Preston +Cheney’s admiring eyes.</p> +<p>And as he held her hands in both of his and gazed down upon her it +seemed to the Baroness she could strike them dead at her feet and rejoice +in the act.</p> +<p>Beside this radiant vision of loveliness and genius, Alice looked +plainer and more meagre than ever before. She was like a wayside +weed beside an American Beauty rose.</p> +<p>“I hope you and Alice will become good friends,” Mr Cheney +said warmly. “We should like to see you at the house any +time you can make it convenient to come, would we not Mabel?”</p> +<p>Mrs Cheney gave a formal assent to her husband’s words as they +turned away, leaving Joy with the rector. And a scene in one of +life’s strangest dramas had been enacted, unknown to them all.</p> +<p>“I would like you to be very friendly with that girl, Alice,” +Mr Cheney repeated as they seated themselves in the carriage. +“She has a rare face, a rare face, and she is highly gifted. +She reminds me of someone I have known, yet I can’t think who +it is. What do you know about her, Baroness?”</p> +<p>The Baroness gave an expressive shrug. “Since you admire +her so much,” she said, “I rather hesitate telling you. +But the girl is of common origin—a grocer’s daughter, and +her mother quite an inferior person. I hardly think it a suitable +companionship for Alice.”</p> +<p>“I am sure I don’t care to know her,” chimed in +Alice. “I thought her quite bold and forward in her manner.”</p> +<p>“Decidedly so! She seemed to hang on to your father’s +hand as if she would never let go,” added Mabel, in her most acid +tone. “I must say, I should have been horrified to see you +act in such a familiar manner toward any stranger.” A quick +colour shot into Preston Cheney’s cheek and a spark into his eye.</p> +<p>“The girl was perfectly modest in her deportment to me,” +he said. “She is a lady through and through, however humble +her birth may be. But I ought to have known better than to ask +my wife and daughter to like anyone whom I chanced to admire. +I learned long ago how futile such an idea was.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well, I don’t see why you need get so angry over +a perfect stranger whom you never laid eyes on until to-day,” +pouted Alice. “I am sure she’s nothing to any of us +that we need quarrel over her.”</p> +<p>“A man never gets so old that he is not likely to make a fool +of himself over a pretty face,” supplemented Mabel, “and +there is no fool like an old fool.”</p> +<p>The uncomfortable drive home came to an end at this juncture, and +Preston Cheney retired to his own room, with the disagreeable words +of his wife and daughter ringing in his ears, and the beautiful face +of the young organist floating before his eyes.</p> +<p>“I wish she were my daughter,” he said to himself; “what +a comfort and delight a girl like that would be to me!”</p> +<p>And while these thoughts filled the man’s heart the Baroness +paced her room with all the jealous passions of her still ungoverned +nature roused into new life and violence at the remembrance of Joy Irving’s +fresh young beauty and Preston Cheney’s admiring looks and words.</p> +<p>“I could throttle her,” she cried, “I could throttle +her. Oh, why is she sent across my life at every turn? Why +should the only two men in the world who interest me to-day, be so infatuated +over that girl? But if I cannot remove so humble an obstacle as +she from my pathway, I shall feel that my day of power is indeed over, +and that I do not believe to be true.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Two weeks later the organ loft of St Blank’s Church was occupied +by a stranger. For a few hours the Baroness felt a wild hope in +her heart that Miss Irving had been sent away.</p> +<p>But inquiry elicited the information that the young musician had +merely employed a substitute because her mother was lying seriously +ill at home.</p> +<p>It was then that the Baroness put into execution a desire she had +to make the personal acquaintance of Joy Irving.</p> +<p>The desire had sprung into life with the knowledge of the rector’s +interest in the girl. No one knew better than the Baroness how +to sow the seeds of doubt, distrust and discord between two people whom +she wished to alienate. Many a sweetheart, many a wife, had she +separated from lover and husband, scarcely leaving a sign by which the +trouble could be traced to her, so adroit and subtle were her methods.</p> +<p>She felt that she could insert an invisible wedge between these two +hearts, which would eventually separate them, if only she might make +the acquaintance of Miss Irving. And now chance had opened the +way for her.</p> +<p>She made her resolve known to the rector.</p> +<p>“I am deeply interested in the young organist whom I had the +pleasure of meeting some weeks ago,” she said, and she noted with +a sinking heart the light which flashed into the man’s face at +the mere mention of the girl. “I understand her mother is +seriously ill, and I think I will go around and call. Perhaps +I can be of use. I understand Mrs Irving is not a churchwoman, +and she may be in real need, as the family is in straitened circumstances. +May I mention your name when I call, in order that Miss Irving may not +think I intrude?”</p> +<p>“Why, certainly,” the rector replied with warmth. +“Indeed, I will give you a card of introduction. That will +open the way for you, and at the same time I know you will use your +delicate tact to avoid wounding Miss Irving’s pride in any way. +She is very sensitive about their straitened circumstances; you may +have heard that they were quite well-to-do until the stroke of paralysis +rendered her father helpless. All their means were exhausted in +efforts to restore his health, and in the employment of nurses and physicians. +I think they have found life a difficult problem since his death, as +Mrs Irving has been under medical care constantly, and the whole burden +falls on Miss Joy’s young shoulders, and she is but twenty-one.”</p> +<p>“Just the age of Alice,” mused the Baroness. “How +differently people’s lives are ordered in this world! But +then we must have the hewers of wood and the drawers of water, and we +must have the delicate human flowers. Our Alice is one of the +latter, a frail blossom to look upon, but she is one of the kind which +will bloom out in great splendour under the sunshine of love and happiness. +Very few people realise what wonderful reserve force that delicate child +possesses. And such a tender heart! She was determined to +come with me when she heard of Miss Irving’s trouble, but I thought +it unwise to take her until I had seen the place. She is so sensitive +to her surroundings, and it might be too painful for her. I am +for ever holding her back from overtaxing herself for others. +No one dreams of the amount of good that girl does in a secret, quiet +way; and at the same time she assumes an indifferent air and talks as +if she were quite heartless, just to hinder people from suspecting her +charitable work. She is such a strange, complicated character.”</p> +<p>Armed with her card of introduction, the Baroness set forth on her +“errand of mercy.” She had not mentioned Miss Irving’s +name to Mabel or Alice. The secret of the rector’s interest +in the girl was locked in her own breast. She knew that Mabel +was wholly incapable of coping with such a situation, and she dreaded +the effect of the news on Alice, who was absorbed in her love dream. +The girl had never been denied a wish in her life, and no thought came +to her that she could be thwarted in this, her most cherished hope of +all.</p> +<p>The Baroness was determined to use every gun in her battery of defence +before she allowed Mabel or Alice to know that defence was needed.</p> +<p>The rector’s card admitted her to the parlour of a small flat. +The portières of an adjoining room were thrown open presently, +and a vision of radiant beauty entered the room.</p> +<p>The Baroness could not explain it, but as the girl emerged from the +curtains, a strange, confused memory of something and somebody she had +known in the past came over her. But when the girl spoke, a more +inexplicable sensation took possession of the listener, for her voice +was the feminine of Preston Cheney’s masculine tones, and then +as she looked at the girl again the haunting memories of the first glance +were explained, for she was very like Preston Cheney as the Baroness +remembered him when he came to the Palace to engage rooms more than +a score of years ago. “What a strange thing these resemblances +are!” she thought. “This girl is more like Senator +Cheney, far more like him, than Alice is. Ah, if Alice only had +her face and form!”</p> +<p>Miss Irving gave a slight start, and took a step back as her eyes +fell upon the Baroness. The rector’s card had read, “Introducing +Mrs Sylvester Lawrence.” She had known this lad by sight +ever since her first Sunday as organist at St Blank’s, and for +some unaccountable reason she had conceived a most intense dislike for +her. Joy was drawn toward humanity in general, as naturally as +the sunlight falls on the earth’s foliage. Her heart radiated +love and sympathy toward the whole world. But when she did feel +a sentiment of distrust or repulsion she had learned to respect it.</p> +<p>Our guardian angels sometimes send these feelings as danger signals +to our souls.</p> +<p>It therefore required a strong effort of her will to go forward and +extend a hand in greeting to the lady whom her rector and friend had +introduced.</p> +<p>“I must beg pardon for this intrusion,” the Baroness +said with her sweetest smile; “but our rector urged me to come +and so I felt emboldened to carry out the wish I have long entertained +to make your acquaintance. Your wonderful music inspires all who +hear you to know you personally; the service lacked half its charm on +Sunday because you were absent. When I learnt that your absence +was occasioned by your mother’s illness, I asked the rector if +he thought a call from me would be an intrusion, and he assured me to +the contrary. I used to be considered an excellent nurse; I am +very strong, and full of vitality, and if you would permit me to sit +by your mother some Sunday when you are needed at church, I should be +most happy to do so. I should like to make the acquaintance of +your mother, and compliment her on the happiness of possessing such +a gifted and dutiful daughter.”</p> +<p>Like all who sat for any time under the spell of the second Mrs Lawrence, +Joy felt the charm of her voice, words and manner, and it began to seem +as if she had been very unreasonable in entertaining unfounded prejudices.</p> +<p>That the rector had introduced her was alone proof of her worthiness; +and the gracious offer of the distinguished-looking lady to watch by +the bedside of a stranger was certainly evidence of her good heart. +The frost disappeared from her smile, and she warmed toward the Baroness. +The call lengthened into a visit, and as the Baroness finally rose to +go, Joy said:</p> +<p>“I will take you in and introduce you to mamma now. I +think it will do her good to meet you,” and the Baroness followed +the graceful girl through a narrow hall, and into a room which had evidently +been intended for a dining-room, but which, owing to its size and its +windows opening to the south, had been utilised as a sick chamber.</p> +<p>The invalid lay with her face turned away from the door. But +by the movement of the delicate hand on the counterpane, Joy knew that +her mother was awake.</p> +<p>“Mamma, I have brought a lady, a friend of Dr Stuart’s, +to see you,” Joy said gently. The invalid turned her head +upon the pillow, and the Baroness looked upon the face of—Berene +Dumont.</p> +<p>“Berene!”</p> +<p>“Madam!”</p> +<p>The two spoke simultaneously, and the invalid had started upright +in bed.</p> +<p>“Mamma, what is the matter? Oh, please lie down, or you +will bring on another hæmorrhage,” cried the startled girl; +but her mother lifted her hand.</p> +<p>“Joy,” she said in a firm, clear voice, “this lady +is an old acquaintance of mine. Please go out, dear, and shut +the door. I wish to see her alone.”</p> +<p>Joy passed out with drooping head and a sinking heart. As the +door closed behind her the Baroness spoke.</p> +<p>“So that is Preston Cheney’s daughter,” she said. +“I always had my suspicions of the cause which led you to leave +my house so suddenly. Does the girl know who her father is? +And does Senator Cheney know of her existence, may I ask?”</p> +<p>A crimson flush suffused the invalid’s face. Then a flame +of fire shot into the dark eyes, and a small red spot only glowed on +either pale cheek.</p> +<p>“I do not know by what right you ask these questions, Baroness +Brown,” she answered slowly; and her listener cringed under the +old appellation which recalled the miserable days when she had kept +a lodging-house—days she had almost forgotten during the last +decade of life.</p> +<p>“But I can assure you, madam,” continued the speaker, +“that my daughter knows no father save the good man, my husband, +who is dead. I have never by word or line made my existence known +to anyone I ever knew since I left Beryngford. I do not know why +you should come here to insult me, madam; I have never harmed you or +yours, and you have no proof of the accusation you just made, save your +own evil suspicions.”</p> +<p>The Baroness gave an unpleasant laugh.</p> +<p>“It is an easy matter for me to find proof of my suspicions +if I choose to take the trouble,” she said. “There +are detectives enough to hunt up your trail, and I have money enough +to pay them for their trouble. But Joy is the living evidence +of the assertion. She is the image of Preston Cheney, as he was +twenty-three years ago. I am ready, however, to let the matter +drop on one condition; and that condition is, that you extract a promise +from your daughter that she will not encourage the attentions of Arthur +Emerson Stuart, the rector of St Blank’s; that she will never +under any circumstances be his wife.”</p> +<p>The red spots faded to a sickly yellow in the invalid’s cheeks. +“Why should you ask this of me?” she cried. “Why +should you wish to destroy the happiness of my child’s life? +She loves Arthur Stuart, and I know that he loves her! It is the +one thought which resigns me to death; the thought that I may leave +her the beloved wife of this good man.”</p> +<p>The Baroness leaned lower over the pillow of the invalid as she answered: +“I will tell you why I ask this sacrifice of you.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps you do not know that I married Judge Lawrence after +the death of his first wife. Perhaps you do not know that Preston +Cheney’s legitimate daughter is as precious to me as his illegitimate +child is to you. Alice is only six months younger than Joy; she +is frail, delicate, sensitive. A severe disappointment would kill +her. She, too, loves Arthur Stuart. If your daughter will +let him alone, he will marry Alice. Surely the illegitimate child +should give way to the legitimate.</p> +<p>“If you are selfish in this matter, I shall be obliged to tell +your daughter the true story of her life, and let her be the judge of +what is right and what is wrong. I fancy she might have a finer +perception of duty than you have—she is so much like her father.”</p> +<p>The tortured invalid fell back panting on her pillow. She put +out her hands with a distracted, imploring gesture.</p> +<p>“Leave me to think,” she gasped. “I never +knew that Preston Cheney had a daughter; I did not know he lived here. +My life has been so quiet, so secluded these many years. Leave +me to think. I will give you my answer in a few days; I will write +you after I reflect and pray.”</p> +<p>The Baroness passed out, and Joy, hastening into the room, found +her mother in a wild paroxysm of tears. Late that night Mrs Irving +called for writing materials; and for many hours she sat propped up +in bed writing rapidly.</p> +<p>When she had completed her task she called Joy to her side.</p> +<p>“Darling,” she said, placing a sealed manuscript in her +hands, “I want you to keep this seal unbroken so long as you are +happy. I know in spite of your deep sorrow at my death, which +must come ere long, you will find much happiness in life. You +came smiling into existence, and no common sorrow can deprive you of +the joy which is your birthright. But there are numerous people +in the world who may strive to wound you after I am gone. If slanderous +tales or cruel reports reach your ears, and render you unhappy, break +this seal, and read the story I have written here. There are some +things which will deeply pain you, I know. Do not force yourself +to read them until a necessity arises. I leave you this manuscript +as I might leave you a weapon for self-defence. Use it only when +you are in need of that defence.”</p> +<p>The next morning Mrs Irving was weakened by another and most serious +hæmorrhage of the lungs. Her physician was grave, and urged +the daughter to be prepared for the worst.</p> +<p>“I fear your mother’s life is a matter of days only,” +he said.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The Baroness went directly from the home which she had entered only +to blight, and sent her card marked “urgent” to Mrs Stuart.</p> +<p>“I have come to tell you an unpleasant story,” she said—“a +painful and revolting story, the early chapters of which were written +years ago, but the sequel has only just been made known to me. +It concerns you and yours vitally; it also concerns me and mine. +I am sure, when you have heard the story to the end, you will say that +truth is stranger than fiction, indeed: and you will more than ever +realise the necessity of preventing your son from marrying Joy Irving—a +child who was born before her mother ever met Mr Irving; and whose mother, +I daresay, was no more the actual wife of Mr Irving in the name of law +and decency than she had been the wife of his many predecessors.”</p> +<p>Startled and horrified at this beginning of the story, Mrs Stuart +was in a state of excited indignation at the end. The Baroness +had magnified facts and distorted truths until she represented Berene +Dumont as a monster of depravity; a vicious being who had been for a +short time the recipient of the Baroness’s mistaken charity, and +who had repaid kindness by base ingratitude, and immorality. The +man implicated in the scandal which she claimed was the cause of Berene’s +flight was not named in this recital.</p> +<p>Indeed the Baroness claimed that he was more sinned against than +sinning, and that it was a case of mesmeric influence, or evil eye, +on the part of the depraved woman.</p> +<p>Mrs Lawrence took pains to avoid any reference to Beryngford also; +speaking of these occurrences having taken place while she spent a summer +in a distant interior town, where, “after the death of the Baron, +she had rented a villa, feeling that she wanted to retire from the world.”</p> +<p>“My heart is always running away with my head,” she remarked, +“and I thought this poor creature, who was shunned and neglected +by all, worth saving. I tried to befriend her, and hoped to waken +the better nature which every woman possesses, I think, but she was +too far gone in iniquity.</p> +<p>“You cannot imagine, my dear Mrs Stuart, what a shock it was +to me on entering that sickroom to-day, my heart full of kindly sympathy, +to encounter in the invalid the ungrateful recipient of my past favours; +and to realise that her daughter was no other than the shameful offspring +of her immoral past. In spite of the girl’s beauty, there +is an expression about her face which I never liked; and I fully understand +now why I did not like it. Of course, Mrs Stuart, this story is +told to you in strict confidence. I would not for the world have +dear Mrs Cheney know of it, nor would I pollute sweet Alice with such +a tale. Indeed, Alice would not understand it if she were told, +for she is as ignorant and innocent as a child in arms of such matters. +We have kept her absolutely unspotted from the world. But I knew +it was my duty to tell you the whole shameful story. If worst +comes to worst, you will be obliged to tell your son perhaps, and if +he doubts the story send him to me for its verification.”</p> +<p>Worst came to the worst before twenty-four hours had passed. +The rector received word that Mrs Irving was rapidly failing, and went +to act the part of spiritual counsellor to the invalid, and sympathetic +friend to the suffering girl.</p> +<p>When he returned his mother watched his face with eager, anxious +eyes. He looked haggard and ill, as if he had passed through a +severe ordeal. He could talk of nothing but the beautiful and +brave girl, who was about to lose her one worshipped companion, and +who ere many hours passed would stand utterly alone in the world.</p> +<p>“I never saw you so affected before by the troubles and sorrows +of your parishioners,” Mrs Stuart said. “I wonder, +Arthur, why you take the sorrows of this family so keenly to heart.”</p> +<p>The young rector looked his mother full in the face with calm, sad +eyes. Then he said slowly:</p> +<p>“I suppose, mother, it is because I love Joy Irving with all +my heart. You must have suspected this for some time. I +know that you have, and that the thought has pained you. You have +had other and more ambitious aims for me. Earnest Christian and +good woman that you are, you have a worldly and conventional vein in +your nature, which makes you reverence position, wealth and family to +a marked degree. You would, I know, like to see me unite myself +with some royal family, were that possible; failing in that, you would +choose the daughter of some great and aristocratic house to be my bride. +Ah, well, dear mother, you will, I know, concede that marriage without +love is unholy. I am not able to force myself to love some great +lady, even supposing I could win her if I did love her.”</p> +<p>“But you might keep yourself from forming a foolish and unworthy +attachment,” Mrs Stuart interrupted. “With your will-power, +your brain, your reasoning faculties, I see no necessity for your allowing +a pretty face to run away with your heart. Nothing could be more +unsuitable, more shocking, more dreadful, than to have you make that +girl your wife, Arthur.”</p> +<p>Mrs Stuart’s voice rose as she spoke, from a quiet reasoning +tone to a high, excited wail. She had not meant to say so much. +She had intended merely to appeal to her son’s affection for her, +without making any unpleasant disclosures regarding Joy’s mother; +she thought merely to win a promise from him that he would not compromise +himself at present with the girl, through an excess of sympathy. +But already she had said enough to arouse the young man into a defender +of the girl he loved.</p> +<p>“I think your language quite too strong, mother,” he +said, with a reproving tone in his voice. “Miss Irving is +good, gifted, amiable, beautiful, beside being young and full of health. +I am sure there could be nothing shocking or dreadful in any man’s +uniting his destiny with such a being, in case he was fortunate enough +to win her. The fact that she is poor, and not of illustrious +lineage, is but a very worldly consideration. Mr Irving was a +most intelligent and excellent man, even if he was a grocer. The +American idea of aristocracy is grotesquely absurd at the best. +A man may spend his time and strength in buying and selling things wherewith +to clothe the body, and, if he succeeds, his children are admitted to +the intimacy of princes; but no success can open that door to the children +of a man who trades in food, wherewith to sustain the body. We +can none of us afford to put on airs here in America, with butchers +and Dutch peasant traders only three or four generations back of our +‘best families.’ As for me, mother, remember my loved +father was a broker. That would damn him in the eyes of some people, +you know, cultured gentleman as he was.”</p> +<p>Mrs Stuart sat very still, breathing hard and trying to gain control +of herself for some moments after her son ceased speaking. He, +too, had said more than he intended, and he was sorry that he had hurt +his mother’s feelings as he saw her evident agitation. But +as he rose to go forward and beg her pardon, she spoke.</p> +<p>“The person of whom we were speaking has nothing whatever to +do with Mr Irving,” she said. “Joy Irving was born +before her mother was married. Mrs Irving has a most infamous +past, and I would rather see you dead than the husband of her child. +You certainly would not want your children to inherit the propensities +of such a grandmother? And remember the curse descends to the +third and fourth generations. If you doubt my words, go to the +Baroness. She knows the whole story, but has revealed it to no +one but me.”</p> +<p>Mrs Stuart left the room, closing the door behind her as she went. +She did not want to be obliged to go over the details of the story which +she had heard; she had made her statement, one which she knew must startle +and horrify her son, with his high ideals of womanly purity, and she +left him to review the situation in silence. It was several hours +before the rector left his room.</p> +<p>When he did, he went, not to the Baroness, but directly to Mrs Irving. +They were alone for more than an hour. When he emerged from the +room, his face was as white as death, and he did not look at Joy as +she accompanied him to the door.</p> +<p>Two days later Mrs Irving died.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The congregation of St Blank’s Church was rendered sad and +solicitous by learning that its rector was on the eve of nervous prostration, +and that his physician had ordered a change of air. He went away +in company with his mother for a vacation of three months. The +day after his departure Joy Irving received a letter from him which +read as follows:-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“My Dear Miss Irving,—You may not in your deep grief +have given me a thought. If such a thought has been granted one +so unworthy, it must have taken the form of surprise that your rector +and friend has made no call of condolence since death entered your household. +I want to write one little word to you, asking you to be lenient in +your judgment of me. I am ill in body and mind. I feel that +I am on the eve of some distressing malady. I am not able to reason +clearly, or to judge what is right and what is wrong. I am as +one tossed between the laws of God and the laws made by men, and bruised +in heart and in soul. I dare not see you or speak to you while +I am in this state of mind. I fear for what I may say or do. +I have not slept since I last saw you. I must go away and gain +strength and equilibrium. When I return I shall hope to be master +of myself. Until then, adieu. “ARTHUR EMERSON STUART.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>These wild and incoherent phrases stirred the young girl’s +heart with intense pain and anxiety. She had known for almost +a year that she loved the young rector; she had believed that he cared +for her, and without allowing herself to form any definite thoughts +of the future, she had lived in a blissful consciousness of loving and +being loved, which is to the fulfilment of a love dream, like inhaling +the perfume of a rose, compared to the gathered flower and its attending +thorns.</p> +<p>The young clergyman’s absence at the time of her greatest need +had caused her both wonder and pain. His letter but increased +both sentiments without explaining the cause.</p> +<p>It increased, too, her love for him, for whenever over-anxiety is +aroused for one dear to us, our love is augmented.</p> +<p>She felt that the young man was in some great trouble, unknown to +her, and she longed to be able to comfort him. Into the maiden’s +tender and ardent affection stole the wifely wish to console and the +motherly impulse to protect her dear one from pain, which are strong +elements in every real woman’s love.</p> +<p>Mrs Irving had died without writing one word to the Baroness; and +that personage was in a state of constant excitement until she heard +of the rector’s plans for rest and travel. Mrs Stuart informed +her of the conversation which had taken place between herself and her +son; and of his evident distress of mind, which had reacted on his body +and made it necessary for him to give up mental work for a season.</p> +<p>“I feel that I owe you a debt of gratitude, dear Baroness,” +Mrs Stuart had said. “Sad as this condition of things is, +imagine how much worse it would be, had my son, through an excess of +sympathy for that girl at this time, compromised himself with her before +we learned the terrible truth regarding her birth. I feel sure +my son will regain his health after a few months’ absence, and +that he will not jeopardise my happiness and his future by any further +thoughts of this unfortunate girl, who in the meantime may not be here +when we return.”</p> +<p>The Baroness made a mental resolve that the girl should not be there.</p> +<p>While the rector’s illness and proposed absence was sufficient +evidence that he had resolved upon sacrificing his love for Joy on the +altar of duty to his mother and his calling, yet the Baroness felt that +danger lurked in the air while Miss Irving occupied her present position. +No sooner had Mrs Stuart and her son left the city, than the Baroness +sent an anonymous letter to the young organist. It read:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“I do not know whether your mother imparted the secret of her +past life to you before she died, but as that secret is known to several +people, it seems cruelly unjust that you are kept in ignorance of it. +You are not Mr Irving’s child. You were born before your +mother married. While it is not your fault, only your misfortune, +it would be wise for you to go where the facts are not so well known +as in the congregation of St Blank’s. There are people in +that congregation who consider you guilty of a wilful deception in wearing +the name you do, and of an affront to good taste in accepting the position +you occupy. Many people talk of leaving the church on your account. +Your gifts as a musician would win you a position elsewhere, and as +I learn that your mother’s life was insured for a considerable +sum, I am sure you are able to seek new fields where you can bide your +disgrace.</p> +<p>“A WELL-WISHER.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Quivering with pain and terror, the young girl cast the letter into +the fire, thinking that it was the work of one of those half-crazed +beings whose mania takes the form of anonymous letters to unoffending +people. Only recently such a person had been brought into the +courts for this offence. It occurred to her also that it might +be the work of someone who wished to obtain her position as organist +of St Blank’s. Musicians, she knew, were said to be the +most jealous of all people, and while she had never suffered from them +before, it might be that her time had now come to experience the misfortunes +of her profession.</p> +<p>Tender-hearted and kindly in feeling to all humanity, she felt a +sickening sense of sorrow and fear at the thought that there existed +such a secret enemy for her anywhere in the world.</p> +<p>She went out upon the street, and for the first time in her life +she experienced a sense of suspicion and distrust toward the people +she met; for the first time in her life, she realised that the world +was not all kind and ready to give her back the honest friendship and +the sweet good-will which filled her heart for all her kind. Strive +as she would, she could not cast off the depression caused by this vile +letter. It was her first experience of this cowardly and despicable +phase of human malice, and she felt wounded in soul as by a poisoned +arrow shot in the dark. And then, suddenly, there came to her +the memory of her mother’s words—“If unhappiness ever +comes to you, read this letter.”</p> +<p>Surely this was the time she needed to read that letter. That +it contained some secret of her mother’s life she felt sure, and +she was equally sure that it contained nothing that would cause her +to blush for that beloved mother.</p> +<p>“Whatever the manuscript may have to reveal to me,” she +said, “it is time that I should know.” She took the +package from the hiding place, and broke the seal. Slowly she +read it to the end, as if anxious to make no error in understanding +every phase of the long story it related. Beginning with the marriage +of her mother to the French professor, Berene gave a detailed account +of her own sad and troubled life, and the shadow which the father’s +appetite for drugs cast over her whole youth. “They say,” +she wrote, “that there is no personal devil in existence. +I think this is true; he has taken the form of drugs and spirituous +liquors, and so his work of devastation goes on.” Then followed +the story of the sacrilegious marriage to save her father from suicide, +of her early widowhood; and the proffer of the Baroness to give her +a home. Of her life of servitude there, her yearning for an education, +and her meeting with “Apollo,” as she designated Preston +Cheney. “For truly he was like the glory of the rising day +to me, the first to give me hope, courage and unselfish aid. I +loved him, I worshipped him. He loved me, but he strove to crush +and kill this love because he had worked out an ambitious career for +himself. To extricate himself from many difficulties and embarrassments, +and to further his ambitious dreams, he betrothed himself to the daughter +of a rich and powerful man. He made no profession of love, and +she asked none. She was incapable of giving or inspiring that +holy passion. She only asked to be married.</p> +<p>“I only asked to be loved. Knowing nothing of the terrible +conflict in his breast, knowing nothing of his new-made ties, I was +wounded to the soul by his speaking unkindly to me—words he forced +himself to speak to hide his real feelings. And then it was that +a strange fate caused him to find me fainting, suffering, and praying +for death. The love in both hearts could no longer be restrained. +Augmented by its long control, sharpened by the agony we had both suffered, +overwhelmed by the surprise of the meeting, we lost reason and prudence. +Everything was forgotten save our love. When it was too late I +foresaw the anguish and sorrow I must bring into this man’s life. +I fear it was this thought rather than repentance for sin which troubled +me. Well may you ask why I did not think of all this before instead +of after the error was committed. Why did not Eve realise the +consequences of the fall until she had eaten of the apple? Only +afterward did I learn of the unholy ties which my lover had formed that +very day—ties which he swore to me should be broken ere another +day passed, to render him free to make me his wife in the eyes of men, +as I already was in the sight of God.</p> +<p>“Yet a strange and sudden resolve came to me as I listened +to him. Far beyond the thought of my own ruin, rose the consciousness +of the ruin I should bring upon his life by allowing him to carry out +his design. To be his wife, his helpmate, chosen from the whole +world as one he deemed most worthy and most able to cheer and aid him +in life’s battle—that seemed heaven to me; but to know that +by one rash, impetuous act of folly, I had placed him in a position +where he felt that honour compelled him to marry me—why, this +thought was more bitter than death. I knew that he loved me; yet +I knew, too, that by a union with me under the circumstances he would +antagonise those who were now his best and most influential friends, +and that his entire career would be ruined. I resolved to go away; +to disappear from his life and leave no trace. If his love was +as sincere as mine, he would find me; and time would show him some wiser +way for breaking his new-made fetters than the rash and sudden method +he now contemplated. He had forgotten to protect me with his love, +but I could not forget to protect him. In every true woman’s +love there is the maternal element which renders sacrifice natural.</p> +<p>“Fate hastened and furthered my plans for departure. +Made aware that the Baroness was suspicious of my fault, and learning +that my lover was suddenly called to the bedside of his fiancée, +I made my escape from the town and left no trace behind. I went +to that vast haystack of lost needles—New York, and effaced Berene +Dumont in Mrs Lamont. The money left from my father’s belongings +I resolved to use in cultivating my voice. I advertised for embroidery +and fine sewing also, and as I was an expert with the needle, I was +able to support myself and lay aside a little sum each week. I +trimmed hats at a small price, and added to my income in various manners, +owing to my French taste and my deft fingers.</p> +<p>“I was desolate, sad, lonely, but not despairing. What +woman can despair when she knows herself loved? To me that consciousness +was a far greater source of happiness than would have been the knowledge +that I was an empress, or the wife of a millionaire, envied by the whole +world. I believed my lover would find me in time, that we should +be reunited. I believed this until I saw the announcement of his +marriage in the press, and read that he and his bride had sailed for +an extended foreign tour; but with this stunning news, there came to +me the strange, sweet, startling consciousness that you, my darling +child, were coming to console me.</p> +<p>“I know that under the circumstances I ought to have been borne +down to the earth with a guilty shame; I ought to have considered you +as a punishment for my sin—and walked in the valley of humiliation +and despair.</p> +<p>“But I did not. I lived in a state of mental exaltation; +every thought was a prayer, every emotion was linked with religious +fervour. I was no longer alone or friendless, for I had you. +I sang as I had never sung, and one theatrical manager, who happened +to call upon my teacher during my lesson hour, offered me a position +at a good salary at once if I would accept.</p> +<p>“I could not accept, of course, knowing what the coming months +were to bring to me, but I took his card and promised to write him when +I was ready to take a position. You came into life in the depressing +atmosphere of a city hospital, my dear child, yet even there I was not +depressed, and your face wore a smile of joy the first time I gazed +upon it. So I named you Joy—and well have you worn the name. +My first sorrow was in being obliged to leave you; for I had to leave +you with those human angels, the sweet sisters of charity, while I went +forth to make a home for you. My voice, as is sometimes the case, +was richer, stronger and of greater compass after I had passed through +maternity. I accepted a position with a travelling theatrical +company, where I was to sing a solo in one act. My success was +not phenomenal, but it <i>was</i> success nevertheless. I followed +this life for three years, seeing you only at intervals. Then +the consciousness came to me that without long and profound study I +could never achieve more than a third-rate success in my profession.</p> +<p>“I had dreamed of becoming a great singer; but I learned that +a voice alone does not make a great singer. I needed years of +study, and this would necessitate the expenditure of large sums of money. +I had grown heart-sick and disgusted with the annoyances and vulgarity +I was subjected to in my position. When you were four years old +a good man offered me a good home as his wife. It was the first +honest love I had encountered, while scores of men had made a pretence +of loving me during these years.</p> +<p>“I was hungering for a home where I could claim you and have +the joy of your daily companionship instead of brief glimpses of you +at the intervals of months. My voice, never properly trained, +was beginning to break. I resolved to put Mr Irving to a test; +I would tell him the true story of your birth, and if he still wished +me to be his wife, I would marry him.</p> +<p>“I carried out my resolve, and we were married the day after +he had heard my story. I lived a peaceful and even happy life +with Mr Irving. He was devoted to you, and never by look, word +or act, seemed to remember my past. I, too, at times almost forgot +it, so strange a thing is the human heart under the influence of time. +Imagine, then, the shock of remembrance and the tidal wave of memories +which swept over me when in the lady you brought to call upon me I recognised—the +Baroness.</p> +<p>“It is because she threatened to tell you that you were not +born in wedlock that I leave this manuscript for you. It is but +a few weeks since you told me the story of Marah Adams, and assured +me that you thought her mother did right in confessing the truth to +her daughter. Little did you dream with what painful interest +I listened to your views on that subject. Little did I dream that +I should so soon be called upon to act upon them.</p> +<p>“But the time is now come, and I want no strange hand to deal +you a blow in the dark; if any part of the story comes to you, I want +you to know the whole truth. You will wonder why I have not told +you the name of your father. It is strange, but from the hour +I knew of his marriage, and of your dawning life, I have felt a jealous +fear lest he should ever take you from me; even after I am gone, I would +not have him know of your existence and be unable to claim you openly. +Any acquaintance between you could only result in sorrow.</p> +<p>“I have never blamed him for my past weakness, however I have +blamed him for his unholy marriage. Our fault was mutual. +I was no ignorant child; while young in years, I had sufficient knowledge +of human nature to protect myself had I used my will-power and my reason. +Like many another woman, I used neither; unlike the majority, I did +not repent my sin or its consequences. I have ever believed you +to be a more divinely born being than any children who may have resulted +from my lover’s unholy marriage. I die strong in the belief. +God bless you, my dear child, and farewell.”</p> +<p>Joy sat silent and pale like one in a trance for a long time after +she had finished reading. Then she said aloud, “So I am +another like Marah Adams; it was this knowledge which caused the rector +to write me that strange letter. It was this knowledge which sent +him away without coming to say one word of adieu. The woman who +sent me the message, sent it to him also. Well, I can be as brave +as my mother was. I, too, can disappear.”</p> +<p>She arose and began silently and rapidly to make preparations for +a journey. She felt a nervous haste to get away from something—from +all things. Everything stable in the world seemed to have slipped +from her hold in the last few days. Home, mother, love, and now +hope and pride were gone too. She worked for more than two hours +without giving vent to even a sigh. Then suddenly she buried her +face in her hands and sobbed aloud: “Oh, mother, mother, you were +not ashamed, but I am ashamed for you! Why was I ever born? +God forgive me for the sinful thought, but I wish you had lied to me +in place of telling me the truth.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Just as Mrs Irving had written her story for her daughter to read, +she told it, in the main, to the rector a few days before her death.</p> +<p>Only once before had the tale passed her lips; then her listener +was Horace Irving; and his only comment was to take her in his arms +and place the kiss of betrothal on her lips. Never again was the +painful subject referred to between them. So imbued had Berene +Dumont become with her belief in the legitimacy of her child, and in +her own purity, that she felt but little surprise at the calm manner +in which Mr Irving received her story, and now when the rector of St +Blank’s Church was her listener, she expected the same broad judgment +to be given her. But it was the calmness of a great and all-forgiving +love which actuated Mr Irving, and overcame all other feelings.</p> +<p>Wholly unconventional in nature, caring nothing and knowing little +of the extreme ideas of orthodox society on these subjects, the girl +Berene and the woman Mrs Irving had lived a life so wholly secluded +from the world at large, so absolutely devoid of intimate friendships, +so absorbed in her own ideals, that she was incapable of understanding +the conventional opinion regarding a woman with a history like hers.</p> +<p>In all those years she had never once felt a sensation of shame. +Mr Irving had requested her to rear Joy in the belief that she was his +child. As the matter could in no way concern anyone else, Mrs +Irving’s lips had remained sealed on the subject; but not with +any idea of concealing a disgrace. She could not associate disgrace +with her love for Preston Cheney. She believed herself to be his +spiritual widow, as it were. His mortal clay and legal name only +belonged to his wife.</p> +<p>Mr Irving had met Berene on a railroad train, and had conceived one +of those sudden and intense passions with which a woman with a past +often inspires an innocent and unworldly young man. He was sincerely +and truly religious by nature, and as spotless as a maiden in mind and +body.</p> +<p>When he had dreamed of a wife, it was always of some shy, innocent +girl whom he should woo almost from her mother’s arms; some gentle, +pious maid, carefully reared, who would help him to establish the Christian +household of his imagination. He had thought that love would first +come to him as admiring respect, then tender friendship, then love for +some such maiden; instead it had swooped down upon him in the form of +an intense passion for an absolute stranger—a woman travelling +with a theatrical company. He was like a sleeper who awakens suddenly +and finds a scorching midday sun beating upon his eyes. A wrecked +freight train upon the track detained for several hours the car in which +they travelled. The passengers waived ceremony and conversed to +pass the time, and Mr Irving learnt Berene’s name, occupation +and destination. He followed her for a week, and at the end of +that time asked her hand in marriage.</p> +<p>Even after he had heard the story of her life, he was not deterred +from his resolve to make her his wife. All the Christian charity +of his nature, all its chivalry was aroused, and he believed he was +plucking a brand from the burning. He never repented his act. +He lived wholly for his wife and child, and for the good he could do +with them as his faithful allies. He drew more and more away from +all the allurements of the world, and strove to rear Joy in what he +believed to be a purely Christian life, and to make his wife forget, +if possible, that she had ever known a sorrow. All of sincere +gratitude, tenderness, and gentle affection possible for her to feel, +Berene bestowed upon her husband during his life, and gave to his memory +after he was gone.</p> +<p>Joy had been excessively fond of Mr Irving, and it was the dread +of causing her a deep sorrow in the knowledge that she was not his child, +and the fear that Preston Cheney would in any way interfere with her +possession of Joy, which had distressed the mother during the visit +of the Baroness, rather than unwillingness to have her sin revealed +to her daughter. Added to this, the intrusion of the Baroness +into this long hidden and sacred experience seemed a sacrilege from +which she shrank with horror. But she now told the tale to Arthur +Stuart frankly and fearlessly.</p> +<p>He had asked her to confide to him whatever secret existed regarding +Joy’s birth.</p> +<p>“There is a rumour afloat,” he said, “that Joy +is not Mr Irving’s child. I love your daughter, Mrs Irving, +and I feel it is my right to know all the circumstances of her life. +I believe the story which was told my mother to be the invention of +some enemy who is jealous of Joy’s beauty and talents, and I would +like to be in a position to silence these slanders.”</p> +<p>So Mrs Irving told the story to the end; and having told it, she +felt relieved and happy in the thought that it was imparted to the only +two people whom it could concern in the future.</p> +<p>No disturbing fear came to her that the rector would hesitate to +make Joy his wife. To Berene Dumont, love was the law. If +love existed between two souls she could not understand why any convention +of society should stand in the way of its fulfilment.</p> +<p>Arthur Stuart in his role of spiritual confessor and consoler had +never before encountered such a phase of human nature. He had +listened to many a tale of sin and folly from women’s lips, but +always had the sinner bemoaned her sin, and bitterly repented her weakness. +Here instead was what the world would consider a fallen woman, who on +her deathbed regarded her weakness as her strength, her shame as her +glory, and who seemed to expect him to take the same view of the matter. +When he attempted to urge her to repent, the words stuck in his throat. +He left the deathbed of the unfortunate sinner without having expressed +one of the conflicting emotions which filled his heart. But he +left it with such a weight on his soul, such distress on his mind that +death seemed to him the only way of escape from a life of torment.</p> +<p>His love for Joy Irving was not killed by the story he had heard. +But it had received a terrible shock, and the thought of making her +his wife with the probability that the Baroness would spread the scandal +broadcast, and that his marriage would break his mother’s heart, +tortured him. Added to this were his theories on heredity, and +the fear that there might, nay, must be, some dangerous tendency hidden +in the daughter of a mother who had so erred, and who in dying showed +no comprehension of the enormity of her sin. Had Mrs Irving bewailed +her fall, and represented herself as the victim of a wily villain, the +rector would not have felt so great a fear of the daughter’s inheritance. +A frail, repentant woman he could pity and forgive, but it seemed to +him that Mrs Irving was utterly lacking in moral nature. She was +spiritually blind. The thought tortured him. To leave Joy +at this time without calling to see her seemed base and cowardly; yet +he dared not trust himself in her presence. So he sent her the +strangely worded letter, and went away hoping to be shown the path of +duty before he returned.</p> +<p>At the end of three months he came home stronger in body and mind. +He had resolved to compromise with fate; to continue his calls upon +Joy Irving; to be her friend and rector only, until by the passage of +time, and the changes which occur so rapidly in every society, the scandal +in regard to her birth had been forgotten. And until by patience +and tenderness, he won his mother’s consent to the union. +He felt that all this must come about as he desired, if he did not aggravate +his mother’s feeling or defy public opinion by too precipitate +methods.</p> +<p>He could not wholly give up all thoughts of Joy Irving. She +had grown to be a part of his hopes and dreams of the future, as she +was a part of the reality of his present. But she was very young; +he could afford to wait, and while he waited to study the girl’s +character, and if he saw any budding shoot which bespoke the maternal +tree, to prune and train it to his own liking. For the sake of +his unborn children he felt it his duty to carefully study any woman +he thought to make his wife.</p> +<p>But when he reached home, the surprising intelligence awaited him +that Miss Irving had left the metropolis. A brief note to the +church authorities, resigning her position, and saying that she was +about to leave the city, was all that anyone knew of her.</p> +<p>The rector instituted a quiet search, but only succeeded in learning +that she had conducted her preparations for departure with the greatest +secrecy, and that to no one had she imparted her plans.</p> +<p>Whenever a young woman shrouds her actions in the garments of secrecy, +she invites suspicion. The people who love to suspect their fellow-beings +of wrong-doing were not absent on this occasion.</p> +<p>The rector was hurt and wounded by all this, and while he resented +the intimation from another that Miss Irving’s conduct had been +peculiar and mysterious, he felt it to be so in his own heart.</p> +<p>“Is it her mother’s tendency to adventure developing +in her?” he asked himself.</p> +<p>Yet he wrote her a letter, directing it to her at the old number, +thinking she would at least leave her address with the post-office for +the forwarding of mail. The letter was returned to him from that +cemetery of many a dear hope, the dead-letter office. A personal +in a leading paper failed to elicit a reply. And then one day +six months after the disappearance of Joy Irving, the young rector was +called to the Cheney household to offer spiritual consolation to Miss +Alice, who believed herself to be dying. She had been in a decline +ever since the rector went away for his health.</p> +<p>Since his return she had seen him but seldom, rarely save in the +pulpit, and for the last six weeks she had been too ill to attend divine +service.</p> +<p>It was Preston Cheney himself, at home upon one of his periodical +visits, who sent for the rector, and gravely met him at the door when +he arrived, and escorted him into his study.</p> +<p>“I am very anxious about my daughter,” he said. +“She has been a nervous child always, and over-sensitive. +I returned yesterday after an absence of some three months in California, +to find Alice in bed, wasted to a shadow, and constantly weeping. +I cannot win her confidence—she has never confided to me. +Perhaps it is my fault; perhaps I have not been at home enough to make +her realise that the relationship of father and daughter is a sacred +one. This morning when I was urging her to tell me what grieved +her, she remarked that there was but one person to whom she could communicate +this sorrow—her rector. So, my dear Dr Stuart, I have sent +for you. I will conduct you to my child, and I leave her in your +hands. Whatever comfort and consolation you can offer, I know +will be given. I hope she will not bind you to secrecy; I hope +you may be able to tell me what troubles her, and advise me how to help +her.”</p> +<p>It was more than an hour before the rector returned to the library +where Preston Cheney awaited him. When the senator heard his approaching +step, he looked up, and was startled to see the pallor on the young +man’s face. “You have something sad, something terrible +to tell me!” he cried. “What is it?”</p> +<p>The rector walked across the room several times, breathing deeply, +and with anguish written on his countenance. Then he took Senator +Cheney’s hand and wrung it. “I have an embarrassing +announcement to make to you,” he said. “It is something +so surprising, so unexpected, that I am completely unnerved.”</p> +<p>“You alarm me, more and more,” the senator answered. +“What can be the secret which my frail child has imparted to you +that should so distress you? Speak; it is my right to know.”</p> +<p>The rector took another turn about the room, and then came and stood +facing Senator Cheney.</p> +<p>“Your daughter has conceived a strange passion for me,” +he said in a low voice. “It is this which has caused her +illness, and which she says will cause her death, if I cannot return +it.”</p> +<p>“And you?” asked his listener after a moment’s +silence.</p> +<p>“I? Why, I have never thought of your daughter in any +such manner,” the young man replied. “I have never +dreamed of loving her, or winning her love.”</p> +<p>“Then do not marry her,” Preston Cheney said quietly. +“Marriage without love is unholy. Even to save life it is +unpardonable.”</p> +<p>The rector was silent, and walked the room with nervous steps. +“I must go home and think it all out,” he said after a time. +“Perhaps Miss Cheney will find her grief less, now that she has +imparted it to me. I am alarmed at her condition, and I shall +hope for an early report from you regarding her.”</p> +<p>The report was made twelve hours later. Miss Cheney was delirious, +and calling constantly for the rector. Her physician feared the +worst.</p> +<p>The rector came, and his presence at once soothed the girl’s +delirium.</p> +<p>“History repeats itself,” said Preston Cheney meditatively +to himself. “Alice is drawing this man into the net by her +alarming physical condition, as Mabel riveted the chains about me when +her mother died.</p> +<p>“But Alice really loves the rector, I think, and she is capable +of a much stronger passion than her mother ever felt; and the rector +loves no other woman at least, and so this marriage, if it takes place, +will not be so wholly wicked and unholy as mine was.”</p> +<p>The marriage did take place three months later. Alice Cheney +was not the wife whom Mrs Stuart would have chosen for her son, yet +she urged him to this step, glad to place a barrier for all time between +him and Joy Irving, whose possible return at any day she constantly +feared, and whose power over her son’s heart she knew was undiminished.</p> +<p>Alice Cheney’s family was of the best on both sides; there +were wealth, station, and honour; and a step-grandmamma who could be +referred to on occasions as “The Baroness.” And there +was no skeleton to be hidden or excused.</p> +<p>And Arthur Stuart, believing that Alice Cheney’s life and reason +depended upon his making her his wife, resolved to end the bitter struggle +with his own heart and with fate, and do what seemed to be his duty, +toward the girl and toward his mother. When the wedding took place, +the saddest face at the ceremony, save that of the groom, was the face +of the bride’s father. But the bride was radiant, and Mabel +and the Baroness walked in clouds.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Alice did not rally in health or spirits after her marriage, as her +family, friends and physician had anticipated. She remained nervous, +ailing and despondent.</p> +<p>“Should maternity come to her, she would doubtless be very +much improved in health afterward,” the doctor said, and Mabel, +remembering how true a similar prediction proved in her case, despite +her rebellion against it, was not sorry when she knew that Alice was +to become a mother, scarcely a year after her marriage.</p> +<p>But Alice grew more and more despondent as the months passed by; +and after the birth of her son, the young mother developed dementia +of the most hopeless kind. The best specialists in two worlds +were employed to bring her out of the state of settled melancholy into +which she had fallen, but all to no avail. At the end of two years, +her case was pronounced hopeless. Fortunately the child died at +the age of six weeks, so the seed of insanity which in the first Mrs +Lawrence was simply a case of “nerves,” growing into the +plant hysteria in Mabel, and yielding the deadly fruit of insanity in +Alice, was allowed by a kind providence to become extinct in the fourth +generation.</p> +<p>This disaster to his only child caused a complete breaking down of +spirit and health in Preston Cheney.</p> +<p>Like some great, strongly coupled car, which loses its grip and goes +plunging down an incline to destruction, Preston Cheney’s will-power +lost its hold on life, and he went down to the valley of death with +frightful speed.</p> +<p>During the months which preceded his death, Senator Cheney’s +only pleasure seemed to be in the companionship of his son-in-law. +The strong attachment between the two men ripened with every day’s +association. One day the rector was sitting by the invalid’s +couch, reading aloud, when Preston Cheney laid his hand on the young +man’s arm and said: “Close your book and let me tell you +a true story which is stranger than fiction. It is the story of +an ambitious man and all the disasters which his realised ambition brought +into the lives of others. It is a story whose details are known +to but two beings on earth, if indeed the other being still exists on +earth. I have long wanted to tell you this story—indeed, +I wanted to tell it to you before you made Alice your wife, yet the +fear that I would be wrecking the life and reason of my child kept me +silent. No doubt if I had told you, and you had been influenced +by my experience against a loveless marriage, I should to-day be blaming +myself for her condition, which I see plainly now is but the culmination +of three generations of hysterical women. But I want to tell you +the story and urge you to use it as a warning in your position of counsellor +and friend of ambitious young men.</p> +<p>“No matter what else a man may do for position, don’t +let him marry a woman he does not love, especially if he crucifies a +vital passion for another, in order to do this.” Then Preston +Cheney told the story of his life to his son-in-law; and as the tale +proceeded, a strange interest which increased until it became violent +excitement, took possession of the rector’s brain and heart. +The story was so familiar—so very familiar; and at length, when +the name of <i>Berene Dumont</i> escaped the speaker’s lips, Arthur +Stuart clutched his hands and clenched his teeth to keep silent until +the end of the story came.</p> +<p>“From the hour Berene disappeared, to this very day, no word +or message ever came from her,” the invalid said. “I +have never known whether she was dead or alive, married, or, terrible +thought, perhaps driven into a reckless life by her one false step with +me. This last fear has been a constant torture to me all these +years.</p> +<p>“The world is cruel in its judgment of woman. And yet +I know that it is woman herself who has shaped the opinions of the world +regarding these matters. If men had had their way since the world +began, there would be no virtuous women. Woman has realised this +fact, and she has in consequence walled herself about with rules and +conventions which have in a measure protected her from man. When +any woman breaks through these conventions and errs, she suffers the +scorn of others who have kept these self-protecting and society-protecting +laws; and, conscious of their scorn, she believes all hope is lost for +ever.</p> +<p>“The fear that Berene took this view of her one mistake, and +plunged into a desperate life, has embittered my whole existence. +Never before did a man suffer such a mental hell as I have endured for +this one act of sin and weakness. Yet the world, looking at my +life of success, would say if it knew the story, ‘Behold how the +man goes free.’ Free! Great God! there is no bondage +so terrible as that of the mind. I have loved Berene Dumont with +a changeless passion for twenty-three years, and there has not been +a day in all that time that I have not during some hours endured the +agonies of the damned, thinking of all the disasters and misery that +might have come into her life through me. Heaven knows I would +have married her if she had remained. Strange and intricate as +the net was which the devil wove about me when I had furnished the cords, +I could and would have broken through it after that strange night—at +once the heaven and the hell of my memory—if Berene had remained. +As it was—I married Mabel, and you know what a farce, ending in +a tragedy, our married life has been. God grant that no worse +woes befell Berene; God grant that I may meet her in the spirit world +and tell her how I loved her and longed for her companionship.”</p> +<p>The young rector’s eyes were streaming with tears, as he reached +over and clasped the sick man’s hands in his. “You +will meet her,” he said with a choked voice. “I heard +this same story, but without names, from Berene Dumont’s dying +lips more than two years ago. And just as Berene disappeared from +you—so her daughter disappeared from me; and, God help me, dear +father—doubly now my father, I crushed out my great passion for +the glorious natural child of your love, to marry the loveless, wretched +and <i>unnatural</i> child of your marriage.”</p> +<p>The sick man started up on his couch, his eyes flaming, his cheeks +glowing with sudden lustre.</p> +<p>“My child—the natural child of Berene’s love and +mine, you say; oh, my God, speak and tell me what you mean; speak before +I die of joy so terrible it is like anguish.”</p> +<p>So then it became the rector’s turn to take the part of narrator. +When the story was ended, Preston Cheney lay weeping like a woman on +his couch; the first tears he had shed since his mother died and left +him an orphan of ten.</p> +<p>“Berene living and dying almost within reach of my arms—almost +within sound of my voice!” he cried. “Oh, why did +I not find her before the grave closed between us?—and why did +no voice speak from that grave to tell me when I held my daughter’s +hand in mine?—my beautiful child, no wonder my heart went out +to her with such a gush of tenderness; no wonder I was fired with unaccountable +anger and indignation when Mabel and Alice spoke unkindly of her. +Do you remember how her music stirred me? It was her mother’s +heart speaking to mine through the genius of our child.</p> +<p>“Arthur, you must find her—you must find her for me! +If it takes my whole fortune I must see my daughter, and clasp her in +my arms before I die.”</p> +<p>But this happiness was not to be granted to the dying man. +Overcome by the excitement of this new emotion, he grew weaker and weaker +as the next few days passed, and at the end of the fifth day his spirit +took its flight, let us hope to join its true mate.</p> +<p>It had been one of his dying requests to have his body taken to Beryngford +and placed beside that of Judge Lawrence.</p> +<p>The funeral services took place in the new and imposing church edifice +which had been constructed recently in Beryngford. The quiet interior +village had taken a leap forward during the last few years, and was +now a thriving city, owing to the discovery of valuable stone quarries +in its borders.</p> +<p>The Baroness and Mabel had never been in Beryngford since the death +of Judge Lawrence many years before; and it was with sad and bitter +hearts that both women recalled the past and realised anew the disasters +which had wrecked their dearest hopes and ambitions.</p> +<p>The Baroness, broken in spirit and crushed by the insanity of her +beloved Alice, now saw the form of the man whom she had hopelessly loved +for so many years, laid away to crumble back to dust; and yet, the sorrows +which should have softened her soul, and made her heart tender toward +all suffering humanity, rendered her pitiless as the grave toward one +lonely and desolate being before the shadows of night had fallen upon +the grave of Preston Cheney.</p> +<p>When the funeral march pealed out from the grand new organ during +the ceremonies in the church, both the Baroness and the rector, absorbed +as they were in mournful sorrow, started with surprise. Both gazed +at the organ loft; and there, before the great instrument, sat the graceful +figure of Joy Irving. The rector’s face grew pale as the +corpse in the casket; the withered cheek of the Baroness turned a sickly +yellow, and a spark of anger dried the moisture in her eyes.</p> +<p>Before the night had settled over the thriving city of Beryngford, +the Baroness dropped a point of virus from the lancet of her tongue +to poison the social atmosphere where Joy Irving had by the merest accident +of fate made her new home, and where in the office of organist she had, +without dreaming of her dramatic situation, played the requiem at the +funeral of her own father.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Joy Irving had come to Beryngford at the time when the discoveries +of the quarries caused that village to spring into sudden prominence +as a growing city. Newspaper accounts of the building of the new +church, and the purchase of a large pipe organ, chanced to fall under +her eye just as she was planning to leave the scene of her unhappiness.</p> +<p>“I can at least only fail if I try for the position of organist +there,” she said, “and if I succeed in this interior town, +I can hide myself from all the world without incurring heavy expense.”</p> +<p>So all unconsciously Joy fled from the metropolis to the very place +from which her mother had vanished twenty-two years before.</p> +<p>She had been the organist in the grand new Episcopalian Church now +for three years; and she had made many cordial acquaintances who would +have become near friends, if she had encouraged them. But Joy’s +sweet and trustful nature had received a great shock in the knowledge +of the shadow which hung about her birth. Where formerly she had +expected love and appreciation from everyone she met, she now shrank +from forming new ties, lest new hurts should await her.</p> +<p>She was like a flower in whose perfect heart a worm had coiled. +Her entire feeling about life had undergone a change. For many +weeks after her self-imposed exile, she had been unable to think of +her mother without a mingled sense of shame and resentment; the adoring +love she had borne this being seemed to die with her respect. +After a time the bitterness of this sentiment wore away, and a pitying +tenderness and sorrow took its place; but from her heart the twin angels, +Love and Forgiveness, were absent. She read her mother’s +manuscript over, and tried to argue herself into the philosophy which +had sustained the author of her being through all these years.</p> +<p>But her mind was shaped far more after the conventional pattern of +her paternal ancestors, who had been New England Puritans, and she could +not view the subject as Berene had viewed it.</p> +<p>In spite of the ideality which her mother had woven about him, Joy +entertained the most bitter contempt for the unknown man who was her +father, and the whole tide of her affections turned lavishly upon the +memory of Mr Irving, whom she felt now more than ever so worthy of her +regard.</p> +<p>Reason as she would on the supremacy of love over law, yet the bold, +unpleasant fact remained that she was the child of an unwedded mother. +She shrank in sensitive pain from having this story follow her, and +the very consciousness that her mother’s experience had been an +exceptional one, caused her the greater dread of having it known and +talked of as a common vulgar liaison.</p> +<p>There are two things regarding which the world at large never asks +any questions—namely, How a rich man made his money, and how an +erring woman came to fall. It is enough for the world to know +that he is rich—that fact alone opens all doors to him, as the +fact that the woman has erred closes them to her.</p> +<p>There was a common vulgar creature in Beryngford, whose many amours +and bold defiance of law and order rendered her name a synonym for indecency. +This woman had begun her career in early girlhood as a mercenary intriguer; +and yet Joy Irving knew that the majority of people would make small +distinctions between the conduct of this creature and that of her mother, +were the facts of Berene’s life and her own birth to be made public.</p> +<p>The fear that the story would follow her wherever she went became +an absolute dread with her, and caused her to live alone and without +companions, in the midst of people who would gladly have become her +warm friends, had she permitted.</p> +<p>Her book of “Impressions” reflected the changes which +had taken place in the complexion of her mind during these years. +Among its entries were the following:-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>People talk about following a divine law of love, when they wish +to excuse their brute impulses and break social and civil codes.</p> +<p>No love is sanctioned by God, which shatters human hearts.</p> +<p>Fathers are only distantly related to their children; love for the +male parent is a matter of education.</p> +<p>The devil macadamises all his pavements.</p> +<p>A natural child has no place in an unnatural world.</p> +<p>When we cannot respect our parents, it is difficult to keep our ideal +of God.</p> +<p>Love is a mushroom, and lust is its poisonous counterpart.</p> +<p>It is a pity that people who despise civilisation should be so uncivil +as to stay in it. There is always darkest Africa.</p> +<p>The extent of a man’s gallantry depends on the goal. +He follows the good woman to the borders of Paradise and leaves her +with a polite bow; but he follows the bad woman to the depths of hell.</p> +<p>It is easy to trust in God until he permits us to suffer. The +dentist seems a skilled benefactor to mankind when we look at his sign +from the street. When we sit in his chair he seems a brute, armed +with devil’s implements.</p> +<p>An anonymous letter is the bastard of a diseased mind.</p> +<p>An envious woman is a spark from Purgatory.</p> +<p>The consciousness that we have anything to hide from the world stretches +a veil between our souls and heaven. We cannot reach up to meet +the gaze of God, when we are afraid to meet the eyes of men.</p> +<p>It may be all very well for two people to make their own laws, but +they have no right to force a third to live by them.</p> +<p>Virtue is very secretive about her payments, but the whole world +hears of it when vice settles up.</p> +<p>We have a sublime contempt for public opinion theoretically so long +as it favours us. When it turns against us we suffer intensely +from the loss of what we claimed to despise.</p> +<p>When the fruit must apologise for the tree, we do not care to save +the seed.</p> +<p>It is only when God and man have formed a syndicate and agreed upon +their laws, that marriage is a safe investment.</p> +<p>The love that does not protect its object would better change its +name.</p> +<p>When we say <i>of</i> people what we would not say <i>to</i> them, +we are either liars or cowards.</p> +<p>The enmity of some people is the greatest compliment they can pay +us.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It was in thoughts like these that Joy relieved her heart of some +of the bitterness and sorrow which weighed upon it. And day after +day she bore about with her the dread of having the story of her mother’s +sin known in her new home.</p> +<p>As our fears, like our wishes, when strong and unremitting, prove +to be magnets, the result of Joy’s despondent fears came in the +scandal which the Baroness had planted and left to flourish and grow +in Beryngford after her departure. An hour before the services +began, on the day of Preston Cheney’s burial, Joy learned at whose +rites she was to officiate as organist. A pang of mingled emotions +shot through her heart at the sound of his name. She had seen +this man but a few times, and spoken with him but once; yet he had left +a strong impression upon her memory. She had felt drawn to him +by his sympathetic face and atmosphere, the sorrow of his kind eyes, +and the keen appreciation he had shown in her art; and just in the measure +that she had been attracted by him, she had been repelled by the three +women to whom she was presented at the same time. She saw them +all again mentally, as she had seen them on that and many other days. +Mrs Cheney and Alice, with their fretful, plain, dissatisfied faces, +and their over-burdened costumes, and the Baroness, with her cruel heart +gazing through her worn mask of defaced beauty.</p> +<p>She had been conscious of a feeling of overwhelming pity for the +kind, attractive man who made the fourth of that quartette. She +knew that he had obtained honours and riches from life, but she pitied +him for his home environment. She had felt so thankful for her +own happy home life at the time; and she remembered, too, the sweet +hope that lay like a closed-up bud in the bottom of her heart that day, +as the quartette moved away and left her standing alone with Arthur +Stuart.</p> +<p>It was only a few weeks later that the end came to all her dreams, +through that terrible anonymous letter.</p> +<p>It was the Baroness who had sent it, she knew—the Baroness +whose early hatred for her mother had descended to the child. +“And now I must sit in the same house with her again,” she +said, “and perhaps meet her face to face; and she may tell the +story here of my mother’s shame, even as I have felt and feared +it must yet be told. How strange that a ‘love child’ +should inspire so much hatred!”</p> +<p>Joy had carefully refrained from reading New York papers ever since +she left the city; and she had no correspondents. It was her wish +and desire to utterly sink and forget the past life there. Therefore +she knew nothing of Arthur Stuart’s marriage to the daughter of +Preston Cheney. She thought of the rector as dead to her. +She believed he had given her up because of the stain upon her birth, +and, bitter as the pain had been, she never blamed him. She had +fought with her love for him and believed that it was buried in the +grave of all other happy memories.</p> +<p>But as the earth is wrenched open by volcanic eruptions and long +buried corpses are revealed again to the light of day, so the unexpected +sight of Arthur Stuart, as he took his place beside Mabel and the Baroness +during the funeral services, revealed all the pent-up passion of her +heart to her own frightened soul.</p> +<p>To strong natures, the greater the inward excitement the more quiet +the exterior; and Jay passed through the services, and performed her +duties, without betraying to those about her the violent emotions under +which she laboured.</p> +<p>The rector of Beryngford Church requested her to remain for a few +moments, and consult with him on a matter concerning the next week’s +musical services. It was from him Joy learned the relation which +Arthur Stuart bore to the dead man, and that Beryngford was the former +home of the Baroness.</p> +<p>Her mother’s manuscript had carefully avoided all mention of +names of people or places. Yet Joy realised now that she must +be living in the very scene of her mother’s early life; she longed +to make inquiries, but was prevented by the fear that she might hear +her mother’s name mentioned disrespectfully.</p> +<p>The days that followed were full of sharp agony for her. It +was not until long afterward that she was able to write her “impressions” +of that experience. In the extreme hour of joy or agony we formulate +no impressions; we only feel. We neither analyse nor describe +our friends or enemies when face to face with them, but after we leave +their presence. When the day came that she could write, some of +her reflections were thus epitomised:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Love which rises from the grave to comfort us, possesses more of +the demons’ than the angels’ power. It terrifies us +with its supernatural qualities and deprives us temporarily of our reason.</p> +<p>Suppressed steam and suppressed emotion are dangerous things to deal +with.</p> +<p>The infant who wants its mother’s breast, and the woman who +wants her lover’s arms, are poor subjects to reason with. +Though you tell the former that fever has poisoned the mother’s +milk, or the latter that destruction lies in the lover’s embrace, +one heeds you no more than the other.</p> +<p>The accumulated knowledge of ages is sometimes revealed by a kiss. +Where wisdom is bliss, it is folly to be ignorant.</p> +<p>Some of us have to crucify our hearts before we find our souls.</p> +<p>A woman cannot fully know charity until she has met passion; but +too intimate an acquaintance with the latter destroys her appreciation +of all the virtues.</p> +<p>To feel temptation and resist it, renders us liberal in our judgment +of all our kind. To yield to it, fills us with suspicion of all.</p> +<p>There is an ecstatic note in pain which is never reached in happiness.</p> +<p>The death of a great passion is a terrible thing, unless the dawn +of a greater truth shines on the grave.</p> +<p>Love ought to have no past tense.</p> +<p>Love partakes of the feline nature. It has nine lives.</p> +<p>It seems to be difficult for some of us to distinguish between looseness +of views, and charitable judgments. To be sorry for people’s +sins and follies and to refuse harsh criticism is right; to accept them +as a matter of course is wrong.</p> +<p>Love and sorrow are twins, and knowledge is their nurse.</p> +<p>The pathway of the soul is not a steady ascent, but hilly and broken. +We must sometimes go lower, in order to get higher.</p> +<p>That which is to-day, and will be to-morrow, must have been yesterday. +I know that I live, I believe that I shall live again, and have lived +before.</p> +<p>Earth life is the middle rung of a long ladder which we climb in +the dark. Though we cannot see the steps below, or above, they +exist all the same.</p> +<p>The materialist denying spirit is like the burr of the chestnut denying +the meat within.</p> +<p>The inevitable is always right.</p> +<p>Prayer is a skeleton key that opens unexpected doors. We may +not find the things we came to seek, but we find other treasures.</p> +<p>The pessimist belongs to God’s misfit counter.</p> +<p>Art, when divorced from Religion, always becomes a wanton.</p> +<p>To forget benefits we have received is a crime. To remember +benefits we have bestowed is a greater one.</p> +<p>To some men a woman is a valuable book, carefully studied and choicely +guarded behind glass doors. To others, she is a daily paper, idly +scanned and tossed aside.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>While Joy battled with her sorrow during the days following Preston +Cheney’s burial, she woke to the consciousness that her history +was known in Beryngford. The indescribable change in the manner +of her acquaintances, the curiosity in the eyes of some, the insolence +or familiarity of others, all told her that her fears were realised; +and then there came a letter from the church authorities requesting +her to resign her position as organist.</p> +<p>This letter came to the young girl on one of those dreary autumn +nights when all the desolation of the dying summer, and none of the +exhilaration of the approaching winter, is in the air. She had +been labouring all day under a cloud of depression which hovered over +her heart and brain and threatened to wholly envelop her; and the letter +from the church committee cut her heart like a poniard stroke. +Sometimes we are able to bear a series of great disasters with courage +and equanimity, while we utterly collapse under some slight misfortune. +Joy had been a heroine in her great sorrows, but now in the undeserved +loss of her position as church organist, she felt herself unable longer +to cope with Fate.</p> +<p>“There’s no place for me anywhere,” she said to +herself. Had she known the truth, that the Baroness had represented +her to the committee as a fallen woman of the metropolis, who had left +the city for the city’s good, the letter would not have seemed +to her so cruelly unjust and unjustifiable.</p> +<p>Bitter as had been her suffering at the loss of Arthur Stuart from +her life, she had found it possible to understand his hesitation to +make her his wife. With his fine sense of family pride, and his +reverence for the estate of matrimony, his belief in heredity, it seemed +quite natural to her that he should be shocked at the knowledge of the +conditions under which she was born; and the thought that her disappearance +from his life was helping him to solve a painful problem, had at times, +before this unexpected sight of him, rendered her almost happy in her +lonely exile. She had grown strangely fond of Beryngford—of +the old streets and homes which she knew must have been familiar to +her mother’s eyes, of the new church whose glorious voiced organ +gave her so many hours of comfort and relief of soul, of the tiny apartment +where she and her heart communed together. She was catlike in +her love of places, and now she must tear herself away from all these +surroundings and seek some new spot wherein to hide herself and her +sorrows.</p> +<p>It was like tearing up a half-rooted flower, already drooping from +one transplanting. She said to herself that she could never survive +another change. She read the letter over which lay in her hand, +and tears began to slowly well from her eyes. Joy seldom wept; +but now it seemed to her she was some other person, who stood apart +and wept tears of sympathy for this poor girl, Joy Irving, whose life +was so hemmed about with troubles, none of which were of her own making; +and then, like a dam which suddenly gives way and allows a river to +overflow, a great storm of sobs shook her frame, and she wept as she +had never wept before; and with her tears there came rushing back to +her heart all the old love and sorrow for the dead mother which had +so long been hidden under her burden of shame; and all the old passion +and longing for the man whose insane wife she knew to be a more hopeless +obstacle between them than this mother’s history had proven.</p> +<p>“Mother, Arthur, pity me, pity me!” she cried. +“I am all alone, and the strife is so terrible. I have never +meant to harm any living thing! Mother Arthur, <i>God</i>, how +can you all desert me so?”</p> +<p>At last, exhausted, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.</p> +<p>She awoke the following morning with an aching head, and a heart +wherein all emotions seemed dead save a dull despair. She was +conscious of only one wish, one desire—a longing to sit again +in the organ loft, and pour forth her soul in one last farewell to that +instrument which had grown to seem her friend, confidant and lover.</p> +<p>She battled with her impulse as unreasonable and unwise, till the +day was well advanced. But it grew stronger with each hour; and +at last she set forth under a leaden sky and through a dreary November +rain to the church.</p> +<p>Her head throbbed with pain, and her hands were hot and feverish, +as she seated herself before the organ and began to play. But +with the first sounds responding to her touch, she ceased to think of +bodily discomfort.</p> +<p>The music was the voice of her own soul, uttering to God all its +desolation, its anguish and its despair. Then suddenly, with no +seeming volition of her own, it changed to a passion of human love, +human desire; the sorrow of separation, the strife with the emotions, +the agony of renunciation were all there; and the November rain, beating +in wild gusts against the window-panes behind the musician, lent a fitting +accompaniment to the strains.</p> +<p>She had been playing for perhaps an hour, when a sudden exhaustion +seized upon her, and her hands fell nerveless and inert upon her lap; +she dropped her chin upon her breast and closed her eyes. She +was drunken with her own music.</p> +<p>When she opened them again a few moments later, they fell upon the +face of Arthur Stuart, who stood a few feet distant regarding her with +haggard eyes. Unexpected and strange as his presence was, Joy +felt neither surprise nor wonder. She had been thinking of him +so intensely, he had been so interwoven with the music she had been +playing, that his bodily presence appeared to her as a natural result. +He was the first to speak; and when he spoke she noticed that his voice +sounded hoarse and broken, and that his face was drawn and pale.</p> +<p>“I came to Beryngford this morning expressly to see you, Joy,” +he said. “I have many things to say to you. I went +to your residence and was told by the maid that I would find you here. +I followed, as you see. We have had many meetings in church edifices, +in organ lofts. It seems natural to find you in such a place, +but I fear it will be unnatural and unfitting to say to you here, what +I came to say. Shall we return to your home?”</p> +<p>His eyes shone strangely from dusky caverns, and there were deep +lines about his mouth.</p> +<p>“He, too, has suffered,” thought Joy; “I have not +borne it all alone.” Then she said aloud:</p> +<p>“We are quite undisturbed here; I know of nothing I could listen +to in my room which I could not hear you say in this place. Go +on.”</p> +<p>He looked at her silently for a moment, his cheeks pale, his breast +heaving. Before he came to Beryngford, he had fought his battle +between religion and human passion, and passion had won. He had +cast under his feet every principle and tradition in which he had been +reared, and resolved to live alone henceforth for the love and companionship +of one human being, could he obtain her consent to go with him.</p> +<p>Yet for the moment, he hesitated to speak the words he had resolved +to utter, under the roof of a house of God, so strong were the influences +of his early training and his habits of thought. But as his eyes +feasted upon the face before him, his hesitation vanished, and he leaned +toward her and spoke. “Joy,” he said, “three +years ago I went away and left you in sorrow, alone, because I was afraid +to brave public opinion, afraid to displease my mother and ask you to +be my wife. The story your mother told me of your birth, a story +she left in manuscript for you to read, made a social coward of me. +I was afraid to take a girl born out of wedlock to be my life companion, +the mother of my children. Well, I married a girl born in wedlock; +and where is my companion?” He paused and laughed recklessly. +Then he went on hurriedly: “She is in an asylum for the insane. +I am chained to a corpse for life. I had not enough moral courage +three-years ago to make you my wife. But I have moral courage +enough now to come here and ask you to go with me to Australia, and +begin a new life together. My mother died a year ago. I +donned the surplice at her bidding. I will abandon it at the bidding +of Love. I sinned against heaven in marrying a woman I did not +love. I am willing to sin against the laws of man by living with +the woman I do love; will you go with me, Joy?” There was +silence save for the beating of the rain against the stained window, +and the wailing of the wind.</p> +<p>Joy was in a peculiarly overwrought condition of mind and body. +Her hours of extravagant weeping the previous night, followed by a day +of fasting, left her nervous system in a state to be easily excited +by the music she had been playing. She was virtually intoxicated +with sorrow and harmony. She was incapable of reasoning, and conscious +only of two things—that she must leave Beryngford, and that the +man whom she had loved with her whole heart for five years, was asking +her to go with him; to be no more homeless, unloved, and alone, but +his companion while life should last.</p> +<p>“Answer me, Joy,” he was pleading. “Answer +me.”</p> +<p>She moved toward the stairway that led down to the street door; and +as she flitted by him, she said, looking him full in the eyes with a +slow, grave smile, “Yes, Arthur, I will go with you.”</p> +<p>He sprang toward her with a wild cry of joy, but she was already +flying down the stairs and out upon the street.</p> +<p>When he joined her, they walked in silence through the rain to her +door, neither speaking a word, until he would have followed her within. +Then she laid her hand upon his shoulder and said gently but firmly: +“Not now, Arthur; we must not see each other again until we go +away. Write me where to meet you, and I will join you within twenty-four +hours. Do not urge me—you must obey me this once—afterward +I will obey you. Good-night.”</p> +<p>As she closed the door upon him, he said, “Oh, Joy, I have +so much to tell you. I promised your father when he was dying +that I would find you; I swore to myself that when I found you I would +never leave you, save at your own command. I go now, only because +you bid me go. When we meet again, there must be no more parting; +and you shall hear a story stranger than the wildest fiction—the +story of your father’s life. Despite your mother’s +secretiveness regarding this portion of her history, the knowledge has +come to me in the most unexpected manner, from the lips of the man himself.”</p> +<p>Joy listened dreamily to the words he was saying. Her father—she +was to know who her father was? Well, it did not matter much to +her now—father, mother, what were they, what was anything save +the fact that he had come back to her and that he loved her?</p> +<p>She smiled silently into his eyes. Glance became entangled +with glance, and would not be separated.</p> +<p>He pushed open the almost closed door and she felt herself enveloped +with arms and lips.</p> +<p>A second later she stood alone, leaning dizzily against the door; +heart, brain and blood in a mad riot of emotion.</p> +<p>Then she fell into a chair and covered her burning face with her +hands as she whispered, “Mother, mother, forgive me—I understand—I +understand.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The first shock of the awakened emotions brings recklessness to some +women, and to others fear.</p> +<p>The more frivolous plunge forward like the drunken man who leaps +from the open window believing space is water.</p> +<p>The more intense draw back, startled at the unknown world before +them.</p> +<p>The woman who thinks love is all ideality is more liable to follow +into undreamed-of chasms than she who, through the complexity of her +own emotions, realises its grosser elements.</p> +<p>It was long after midnight when Joy fell into a heavy sleep, the +night of Arthur Stuart’s visit. She heard the drip of the +dreary November rain upon the roof, and all the light and warmth seemed +stricken from the universe save the fierce fire in her own heart.</p> +<p>When she woke in the late morning, great splashes of sunlight were +leaping and quivering like living things across the foot of her bed; +she sprang up, dazed for a moment by the flood of light in the room, +and went to the window and looked out upon a sun-kissed world smiling +in the arms of a perfect Indian summer day.</p> +<p>A happy little sparrow chirped upon the window sill, and some children +ran across the street bare-headed, exulting in the soft air. All +was innocence and sweetness. Mind and morals are greatly influenced +by weather. Many things seem right in the fog and gloom, which +we know to be wrong in the clear light of a sunny morning. The +events of the previous day came back to Joy’s mind as she stood +by the window, and stirred her with a sense of strangeness and terror. +The thought of the step she had resolved to take brought a sudden trembling +to her limbs. It seemed to her the eyes of God were piercing into +her heart, and she was afraid.</p> +<p>Joy had from her early girlhood been an earnest and sincere follower +of the Christian religion. The embodiment of love and sympathy +herself, it was natural for her to believe in the God of Love and to +worship Him in outward forms, as well as in her secret soul. It +was the deep and earnest fervour of religion in her heart, which rendered +her music so unusual and so inspiring. There never was, is not +and never can be greatness in any art where religious feeling is lacking.</p> +<p>There must be the consciousness of the Infinite, in the mind which +produces infinite results.</p> +<p>Though the artist be gifted beyond all other men, though he toil +unremittingly, so long as he says, “Behold what I, the gifted +and tireless toiler, can achieve,” he shall produce but mediocre +and ephemeral results. It is when he says reverently, “Behold +what powers greater than I shall achieve through me, the instrument,” +that he becomes great and men marvel at his power.</p> +<p>Joy’s religious nature found expression in her music, and so +something more than a harmony of beautiful sounds impressed her hearers.</p> +<p>The first severe blow to her faith in the church as a divine institution, +was when her rector and her lover left her alone in the hour of her +darkest trials, because he knew the story of her mother’s life. +His hesitancy to make her his wife she understood, but his absolute +desertion of her at such a time, seemed inconsistent with his calling +as a disciple of the Christ.</p> +<p>The second blow came in her dismissal from the position of organist +at the Beryngford Church, after the presence of the Baroness in the +town.</p> +<p>A disgust for human laws, and a bitter resentment towards society +took possession of her. When a gentle and loving nature is roused +to anger and indignation, it is often capable of extremes of action; +and Arthur Stuart had made his proposition of flight to Joy Irving in +an hour when her high-wrought emotions and intensely strung nerves made +any desperate act possible to her. The sight of his face, with +its evidences of severe suffering, awoke all her smouldering passion +for the man; and the thought that he was ready to tread his creed under +his feet and to defy society for her sake, stirred her with a wild joy. +God had seemed very far away, and human love was very precious; too +precious to be thrown away in obedience to any man-made law.</p> +<p>But somehow this morning God seemed nearer, and the consciousness +of what she had promised to do terrified her. Disturbed by her +thoughts, she turned towards her toilet-table and caught sight of the +letter of dismissal from the church committee. It acted upon her +like an electric shock. Resentment and indignation re-enthroned +themselves in her bosom.</p> +<p>“Is it to cater to the opinions and prejudices of people like +<i>these</i> that I hesitate to take the happiness offered me?” +she cried, as she tore the letter in bits and cast it beneath her feet. +Arthur Stuart appeared to her once more, in the light of a delivering +angel. Yes, she would go with him to the ends of the earth. +It was her inheritance to lead a lawless life. Nothing else was +possible for her. God must see how she had been hemmed in by circumstances, +how she had been goaded and driven from the paths of peace and purity +where she had wished to dwell. God was not a man, and He would +be merciful in judging her.</p> +<p>She sent her landlady two months’ rent in advance, and notice +of her departure, and set hurriedly about her preparations.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Twenty-five years before, when Berene Dumont disappeared from Beryngford, +she had, quite unknown to herself, left one devoted though humble friend +behind, who sincerely mourned her absence.</p> +<p>Mrs Connor liked to be spoken of as “the wash-lady at the Palace.” +Yet proud as she was of this appellation, she was not satisfied with +being an excellent laundress. She was a person of ambitions. +To be the owner of a lodging-house, like the Baroness, was her leading +ambition, and to possess a “peany” for her young daughter +Kathleen was another.</p> +<p>She kept her mind fixed on these two achievements, and she worked +always for those two results. And as mind rules matter, so the +laundress became in time the landlady of a comfortable and respectable +lodging-house, and in its parlour a piano was the chief object of furniture.</p> +<p>Kathleen Connor learned to play; and at last to the joy of the lodgers, +she married and bore her “peany” away with her. During +the time when Mrs Connor was the ambitious “wash-lady” at +the Palace, Berene Dumont came to live there; and every morning when +the young woman carried the tray down to the kitchen after having served +the Baroness with her breakfast, she offered Mrs Connor a cup of coffee +and a slice of toast.</p> +<p>This simple act of thoughtfulness from the young dependant touched +the Irishwoman’s tender heart and awoke her lasting gratitude. +She had heard Berene’s story, and she had been prepared to mete +out to her that disdainful dislike which Erin almost invariably feels +towards France. Realising that the young widow was by birth and +breeding above the station of housemaid, Mrs Connor and the servants +had expected her to treat them with the same lofty airs which the Baroness +made familiar to her servants. When, instead, Berene toasted the +bread for Mrs Connor, and poured the coffee and placed it on the kitchen +table with her own hands, the heart of the wash-lady melted in her ample +breast. When the heart of the daughter of Erin melts, it permeates +her whole being; and Mrs Connor became a secret devotee at the shrine +of Miss Dumont.</p> +<p>She had never entertained cordial feelings toward the Baroness. +When a society lady—especially a titled one—enters into +competition with working people, and yet refuses to associate with them, +it always incites their enmity. The working population of Beryngford, +from the highest to the lowest grades, felt a sense of resentment toward +the Baroness, who in her capacity of landlady still maintained the airs +of a grand dame, and succeeded in keeping her footing with some of the +most fashionable people in the town.</p> +<p>Added to these causes of dislike, the Baroness was, like many wealthier +people, excessively close in her dealings with working folk, haggling +over a few cents or a few moments of wasted time, while she was generosity +itself in association with her equals.</p> +<p>Mrs Connor, therefore, felt both pity and sympathy for Miss Dumont, +whose position in the Palace she knew to be a difficult one; and when +Preston Cheney came upon the scene the romantic mind of the motherly +Irishwoman fashioned a future for the young couple which would have +done credit to the pen of a Mrs Southworth.</p> +<p>Mr Cheney always had a kind word for the laundress, and a tip as +well; and when Mrs Connor’s dream of seeing him act the part of +the Prince and Berene the Cinderella of a modern fairy story, ended +in the disappearance of Miss Dumont and the marriage of Mr Cheney to +Mabel Lawrence, the unhappy wash-lady mourned unceasingly.</p> +<p>Ten years of hard, unremitting toil and rigid economy passed away +before Mrs Connor could realise her ambition of becoming a landlady +in the purchase of a small house which contained but four rooms, three +of which were rented to lodgers. The increase in the value of +her property during the next five years, left the fortunate speculator +with a fine profit when she sold her house at the end of that time, +and rented a larger one; and as she was an excellent financier, it was +not strange that, at the time Joy Irving appeared on the scene, “Mrs +Connor’s apartments” were as well and favourably known in +Beryngford, if not as distinctly fashionable, as the Palace had been +more than twenty years ago.</p> +<p>So it was under the roof of her mother’s devoted and faithful +mourner that the unhappy young orphan had found a home when she came +to hide herself away from all who had ever known her.</p> +<p>The landlady experienced the same haunting sensation of something +past and gone when she looked on the girl’s beautiful face, which +had so puzzled the Baroness; a something which drew and attracted the +warm heart of the Irishwoman, as the magnet draws the steel. Time +and experience had taught Mrs Connor to be discreet in her treatment +of her tenants; to curb her curiosity and control her inclination to +sociability. But in the case of Miss Irving she had found it impossible +to refrain from sundry kindly acts which were not included in the terms +of the contract. Certain savoury dishes found their way mysteriously +to Miss Irving’s <i>ménage</i>, and flowers appeared in +her room as if by magic, and in various other ways the good heart and +intentions of Mrs Connor were unobtrusively expressed toward her favourite +tenant. Joy had taken a suite of four rooms, where, with her maid, +she lived in modest comfort and complete retirement from the social +world of Beryngford, save as the close connection of the church with +Beryngford society rendered her, in the position of organist, a participant +in many of the social features of the town. While Joy was in the +midst of her preparations for departure, Mrs Connor made her appearance +with swollen eyes and red, blistered face.</p> +<p>“And it’s the talk of that ould witch of a Baroness, +may the divil run away with her, that is drivin’ ye away, is it?” +she cried excitedly; “and it’s not Mrs Connor as will consist +to the daughter of your mother, God rest her soul, lavin’ my house +like this. To think that I should have had ye here all these years, +and never known ye to be her child till now, and now to see ye driven +away by the divil’s own! But if it’s the fear of not +being able to pay the rint because ye’ve lost your position, ye +needn’t lave for many a long day to come. It’s Mrs +Connor would only be as happy as the queen herself to work her hands +to the bone for ye, remembering your darlint of a mother, and not belavin’ +one word against her, nor ye.”</p> +<p>So soon as Joy could gain possession of her surprised senses, she +calmed the weeping woman and began to question her.</p> +<p>“My good woman,” she said, “what are you talking +about? Did you ever know my mother, and where did you know her?”</p> +<p>“In the Palace, to be sure, as they called the house of that +imp of Satan, the Baroness. I was the wash-lady there, for it’s +not Mrs Conner the landlady as is above spakin’ of the days when +she wasn’t as high in the world as she is now; and many is the +cheerin’ cup of coffee or tay from your own mother’s hand, +that I’ve had in the forenoon, to chirk me up and put me through +my washing, bless her sweet face; and niver have I forgotten her; and +niver have I ceased to miss her and the fine young man that took such +an interest in her and that I’m as sure loved her, in spite of +his marrying the Judge’s spook of a daughter, as I am that the +Holy Virgin loves us all; and it’s a foine man that your father +must have been, but young Mr Cheney was foiner.”</p> +<p>So little by little Joy drew the story from Mrs Connor and learned +the name of the mysterious father, so carefully guarded from her in +Mrs Irving’s manuscript, the father at whose funeral services +she had so recently officiated as organist.</p> +<p>And strangest and most startling of all, she learned that Arthur +Stuart’s insane wife was her half-sister.</p> +<p>Added to all this, Joy was made aware of the nature of the reports +which the Baroness had been circulating about her; and her feeling of +bitter resentment and anger toward the church committee was modified +by the knowledge that it was not owing to the shadow on her birth, but +to the false report of her own evil life, that she had been asked to +resign.</p> +<p>After Mrs Connor had gone, Joy was for a long time in meditation, +and then turned in a mechanical manner to her delayed task. Her +book of “Impressions” lay on a table close at hand.</p> +<p>And as she took it up the leaves opened to the sentence she had written +three years before, after her talk with the rector about Marah Adams.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“It seems to me I could not love a man who did not seek to +lead me higher; the moment he stood below me and asked me to descend, +I should realise he was to be pitied, not adored!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>She shut the book and fell on her knees in prayer; and as she prayed +a strange thing happened. The room filled with a peculiar mist, +like the smoke which is illuminated by the brilliant rays of the morning +sun; and in the midst of it a small square of intense rose-coloured +light was visible. This square grew larger and larger, until it +assumed the size and form of a man, whose face shone with immortal glory. +He smiled and laid his hand on Joy’s head. “Child, +awake,” he said, and with these words vast worlds dawned upon +the girl’s sight. She stood above and apart from her grosser +body, untrammelled and free; she saw long vistas of lives in the past +through which she had come to the present; she saw long vistas of lives +in the future through which she must pass to gain the experience which +would lead her back to God. An ineffable peace and serenity enveloped +her. The divine Presence seemed to irradiate the place in which +she stood—she felt herself illuminated, transfigured, sanctified +by the holy flame within her.</p> +<p>When she came back to the kneeling form by the couch, and rose to +her feet, all the aspect of life had changed for her.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Joy Irving had unpacked her trunks and set her small apartment to +rights, when the postman’s ring sounded, and a moment later a +letter was slipped under her door.</p> +<p>She picked it up, and recognised Arthur Stuart’s penmanship. +She sat down, holding the unopened letter in her hands.</p> +<p>“It is Arthur’s message, appointing a time and place +for our meeting,” she said to herself. “How long ago +that strange interview with him seems!—yet it was only yesterday. +How utterly the whole of life has changed for me since then! The +universe seems larger, God nearer, and life grander. I am as one +who slept and dreamed of darkness and sorrow, and awakes to light and +joy.”</p> +<p>But when she opened the envelope and read the few hastily written +lines within, an exclamation of surprise escaped her lips. It +was a brief note from Arthur Stuart and began abruptly without an address +(a manner more suggestive of strong passion than any endearing words).</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“The first item which my eye fell upon in the telegraphic column +of the morning paper, was the death of my wife in the Retreat for the +Insane. I leave by the first express to bring her body here for +burial.</p> +<p>“A merciful providence has saved us the necessity of defying +the laws of God or man, and opened the way for me to claim you before +all the world as my worshipped wife so soon as propriety will permit.</p> +<p>“I shall see you at any hour you may indicate after to-morrow, +for a brief interview.</p> +<p>“ARTHUR EMERSON STUART.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Joy held the letter in her hand a long time, lost in profound reflection. +Then she sat down to her desk and wrote three letters; one was to Mrs +Lawrence; one to the chairman of the church committee, who had requested +her resignation; the third was to Mr Stuart, and read thus:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“My Dear Mr Stuart,—Many strange things have occurred +to me since I saw you. I have learned the name of my father, and +this knowledge reveals the fact to me that your unfortunate wife was +my half-sister. I have learned, too, that the loss of my position +here as organist is not due to the narrow prejudice of the committee +regarding the shadow on my birth, but to malicious stories put in circulation +by Mrs Lawrence, relating to me.</p> +<p>“Infamous and libellous tales regarding my life have been told, +and must be refuted. I have written to Mrs Lawrence demanding +a letter from her, clearing my personal character, or giving her the +alternative of appearing in court to answer the charge of defamation +of character. I have also written to the church committee requesting +them to meet me here in my apartments to-morrow, and explain their demand +for my resignation.</p> +<p>“I now write to you my last letter and my farewell.</p> +<p>“In the overwrought and desperate mood in which you found me, +it did not seem a sin for me to go away with the man who loved me and +whom I loved, before false ideas of life and false ideas of duty made +him the husband of another. Conscious that your wife was a hopeless +lunatic whose present or future could in no way be influenced by our +actions, I reasoned that we wronged no one in taking the happiness so +long denied us.</p> +<p>“The last three years of my life have been full of desolation +and sorrow. From the day my mother died, the stars of light which +had gemmed the firmament for me, seemed one by one to be obliterated, +until I stood in utter darkness. You found me in the very blackest +hour of all—and you seemed a shining sun to me.</p> +<p>“Yet so soon as my tired brain and sorrow-worn heart were able +to think and reason, I realised that it was not the man I had worshipped +as an ideal, who had come to me and asked me to lower my standard of +womanhood. It was another and less worthy man—and this other +was to be my companion through time, and perhaps eternity. When +I learned that your insane wife was my sister, and that knowing this +fact you yet planned our flight, an indescribable feeling of repulsion +awoke in my heart.</p> +<p>“I confess that this arose more from a sentiment than a principle. +The relationship of your wife to me made the contemplated sin no greater, +but rendered it more tasteless.</p> +<p>“Had I gone away with you as I consented to do, the world would +have said, she but follows her fatal inheritance—like mother like +daughter. There were some bitter rebellious hours, when that thought +came to me. But to-day light has shone upon me, and I know there +is a law of Divine Heredity which is greater and more powerful than +any tendency we derive from parents or grandparents. I have believed +much in creeds all my life; and in the hour of great trials I found +I was leaning on broken reeds. I have now ceased to look to men +or books for truth—I have found it in my own soul. I acknowledge +no unfortunate tendencies from any earthly inheritance; centuries of +sinful or weak ancestors are as nothing beside the God within. +The divine and immortal <i>me</i> is older than my ancestral tree; it +is as old as the universe. It is as old as the first great Cause +of which it is a part. Strong with this consciousness, I am prepared +to meet the world alone, and unafraid from this day onward. When +I think of the optimistic temperament, the good brain, and the vigorous +body which were naturally mine, and then of the wretched being who was +my legitimate sister, I know that I was rightly generated, however unfortunately +born, just as she was wrongly generated though legally born.</p> +<p>“My father, I am told, married into a family whose crest is +traced back to the tenth century. I carry a coat-of-arms older +yet—the Cross; it dates back eighteen hundred years—yes, +many thousand years, and so I feel myself the nobler of the two. +Had you been more of a disciple of Christ, and less of a disciple of +man, you would have realised this truth long ago, as I realise it to-day. +No man should dare stand before his fellows as a revealer of divine +knowledge until he has penetrated the inmost recesses of his own soul, +and found God’s holy image there; and until he can show others +the way to the same wonderful discovery. The God you worshipped +was far away in the heavens, so far that he could not come to you and +save you from your baser self in the hour of temptation. But the +true God has been miraculously revealed to me. He dwells within; +one who has found Him, will never debase His temple.</p> +<p>“Though there is no legal obstacle now in the path to our union, +there is a spiritual one which is insurmountable. <i>I no longer +love you</i>. I am sorry for you, but that is all. You belonged +to my yesterday—you can have no part in my to-day. The man +who tempted me in my weak hour to go lower, could not help me to go +higher. And my face is set toward the heights.</p> +<p>“I must prove to that world that a child born under the shadow +of shame, and of two weak, uncontrolled parents, can be virtuous, strong, +brave and sensible. That she can conquer passion and impulse, +by the use of her divine inheritance of will; and that she can compel +the respect of the public by her discreet life and lofty ideals.</p> +<p>“I shall stay in this place until I have vindicated my name +and character from every aspersion cast upon them. I shall retain +my position of organist, and retain it until I have accumulated sufficient +means to go abroad and prepare myself for the musical career in which +I know I can excel. I am young, strong and ambitious. My +unusual sorrows will give me greater power of character if I accept +them as spiritual tonics—bitter but strengthening.</p> +<p>“Farewell, and may God be with you.</p> +<p>“Joy Irving.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>When the rector of St Blank’s returned from the Beryngford +Cemetery, where he had placed the body of his wife beside her father, +he found this letter lying on his table in the hotel.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, AN AMBITIOUS MAN ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named ammn10h.htm or ammn10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, ammn11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ammn10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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