Once only, love, may love’s sweet song be sung;
But once, love, at our feet, love’s flower is flung;
Once, love--only once--can we be young;
Say, shall we love, dear love, or shall we hate?
Once only, love, will burn the blood-red fire;
But once awaketh the wild desire;
Love pleadeth long, but what if love should tire?
Now shall we love, dear love, or shall we wait?
The day is short, the evening cometh fast;
The time of choosing, love, will soon be past;
The outer darkness falleth, love--at last.
Love, let us love ere it be late--too late.
After hastily perusing the letter which he had received, Ray Challoner
thrust it quickly into his pocket, muttering hoarsely to himself that
there was little time to lose. He must propose to Jess as expeditiously
as possible.
He would not trust himself to figure on the result further than to
assure himself that the marriage ceremony should be consummated by fair
means or foul, and that, too, without delay.
That evening, when he followed Jess to the drawing-room he primed
himself for the coming ordeal, for he felt that it would amount to
simply that.
She was advancing toward the open window, and he hastened to her side,
saying:
“I know you were just about to step out on the porch. You love the
outdoor air so well that I am sorry to inform you that it is raining
heavily.”
“What difference will that make to me, Mr. Dinsmore?” exclaimed the
girl, cresting her dark, curly head. “I love the rain and the warring
of the elements. I am at home among them. They will not harm me; I am
not sugar, nor salt; therefore the rain will not spoil me nor make
havoc of my complexion.” And she laughed airily as she uttered the
words.
“But the rain will make havoc of that lovely costume you have on,” he
declared, biting his lips with vexation.
“I shall throw my waterproof cloak about me, and put on my rubbers,”
she retorted, nonchalantly.
“But what is the use of venturing out on to the porch in a driving
gale like this?” he cried. “You will take your death of cold.” Adding:
“Besides, I am not so fortunate as to be equipped to accompany you.”
“Indeed, I did not expect you to do so,” retorted the girl, quickly.
“And you are mistaken about my intending to stop on the porch.
Why, I’m going out into the very teeth of the storm--out into the
grounds--possibly farther down the road. There is a miniature cataract
in the woods about half a mile from here. I always go there to watch
the swirling, angry water in a storm. It is simply grand, especially
when the lightning strikes and fells some of the giant trees, which it
is nearly always sure to do.”
Challoner looked at the girl in dismay, wondering what sort of a
creature she could be. She was so vastly different from the rest of
the girls he had known. Silks and laces could not make her different
from what nature had intended her--a veritable tomboy, and a heathenish
one at that.
No matter where she went, he was determined to accompany her and
propose to her, that very evening, come what might.
He swallowed his chagrin in the most amiable manner possible, remarking
with apparent calmness:
“As the queen wills, I suppose. Here is an umbrella close at hand,
fortunately,” and as he stepped out of the long French window after the
bounding figure of the girl who preceded him, he comforted himself with
the thought that the stake he must win that night was worth a thousand
times more than his evening suit and new patent leather ties, which
would, of course, be ruined by this mad escapade.
In that moment he fairly hated this girl whom he had come there to
win at all hazards--playing such a daring game for the great fortune
involved. He would soon stop such mad freaks as this, after the knot
was tied, even though he crushed her spirit, and broke her heart
to accomplish it--he promised himself with a good deal of inward
satisfaction.
He wondered if there was ever a man on earth who proposed marriage
under such trying circumstances.
Jess scorned the use of his umbrella, and his arm, but ran on before
him at a breakneck pace, and it was all that he could do to keep up
with her and manage to keep the umbrella from turning inside out in the
mad gale and torrents of downpouring rain.
He even had the uncomfortable feeling that the girl was laughing at his
plight and enjoying his discomfiture hugely.
There was clearly not the slightest use, or opportunity, as for that
matter, of uttering one word of the declaration he had prepared with
such care, for he could scarcely catch his breath as it was. He must
wait until they reached their destination, the cascade, and had time to
recover himself after so swift a race at the girl’s heels.
The half mile she had spoken of seemed three times that length to him,
and he was nearly dropping with exhaustion when at last the welcome
sound of the dashing of the water fell upon his ears.
“Here we are, Mr. Dinsmore. I hope you are not tired,” said Jess, and
if they had not been standing in the shadow of the trees he would have
seen the amused sparkle in her eyes as she heard him actually panting
for breath.
“Not at all,” he remarked, grimly. But she noticed that he made all
haste to throw himself down upon a fallen log to rest.
“The rain will soon cease, for it is only a shower, then the moon will
come forth from behind the clouds in a flood of silvery brightness,
but the wind will take up the battle, and uproot the trees that the
lightning failed to find.”
“For Heaven’s sake, why should you elect to remain where there is so
much danger?” he cried, as her words were verified at that very instant
by the crashing down of a giant oak almost at his feet.
“Because I love danger!” answered the girl, musingly. “I think if I
had been born a boy instead of a girl, I should have gone on the high
seas, and perhaps turned out a pirate captain, or something equally as
romantic. I crave a life filled with excitement. I cannot understand
how young girls can sit in parlors dressed up as puppets and crochet,
and talk by rule. Such restraint would be simply unendurable to me.
I should feel like a wild bird who has been captured from his nest
in some grand old tree in a deep green wood and thrust into a gilded
cage. He sees not the gilding, nor the food and drink placed in it; he
sees only the cruel iron bars that hold him back from freedom and its
joyousness.”
This was the very opening which Challoner desired, and he was quick to
take advantage of it.
“Marry me, little Jess, and you shall live just the life you crave,” he
cried, falling dramatically on his knees at her feet, and at the same
instant seizing both her little clasped hands in his and covering them
with hot, passionate kisses.
“You shall go where you will, do as you like. Your caprices shall be as
law to me. I--I----”
“Stop!” cried Jess, drawing her hands away from him angrily. “You are
cruel to spoil the beauty of the scene and the night.”
“My heart compels me to speak,” he answered, hoarsely, “the words force
themselves from my heart to my lips. I can no more keep them back than
I could withhold the mad torrent of waters that are dashing down the
bed of yonder cataract. Listen to the story of my love, little Jess,
and then blame me if you can find it in your heart to do so.”
“I do not want to hear about it now,” persisted Jess, impatiently.
He drew away from her and leaned against a tree with his arms folded
across his chest and a decidedly queer expression on his face. He was
struggling hard with himself to keep down his anger. Such a declaration
as he had just uttered had never been known to fail in winning a
feminine heart, and the idea of this girl “calling him down,” as he
phrased it, for declaring himself, filled him with rage which he found
difficult to master.
It was not the first time she had snubbed him during their short
acquaintance, and then and there he told himself that he had a long
score to settle with this girl, and he would settle it with a vengeance
some day, but he had yet his game to win, and for the present he must
play the part of an adoring lover, which was very repugnant to his
feelings.
He looked at the slim slip of a girl the winning of whom meant a
fortune to him, if she could be won quickly, and commenced the attack
in another way, and more adroitly.
“So fair, so cold and so heartless,” he murmured. “Cold as yonder lady
moon breaking away from the clouds that would fain clasp her and hold
her; but the moon has not so true a lover in the clouds as you have in
me, little Jess. I pray you listen to me, for I must speak and tell you
all that is in my heart--or die!” he added, dramatically.
An amused laugh broke from the girl’s fresh red lips as she looked up
into the handsome, cynical face.
“Ah, if you were less heartless, Jess,” he sighed. “But even the
hardest heart may sometimes suffer, and your day may come. Perhaps you
may experience some day the love that I feel now, and if the object of
your affection laughs at you in your face for your folly in loving,
then you will know what I am suffering to-night.”
“I did not mean to do anything so positively rude as that!” declared
Jess, “but somehow this whole transaction seems so very ridiculous to
me, just as if I were a bale of tobacco put up for a purchaser. You
were to come here and look me over, and if I half suited you, you would
marry me, because that was the condition of that dreadful will. But I
tell you here and now that I have something to say in the matter--a
voice to raise--since my future happiness is at stake. All the money
your uncle left could not make me marry a man I did not love. And I do
not love you, that is certain, Mr. Dinsmore. And what’s more, I never
will. Marriage between us is, therefore, impossible. Speak no more of
it, for it can never be, I tell you.”
He was silent from sheer rage. He knew if he opened his lips to speak
he would curse her as she stood there before him in the bright, white
moonlight. Was ever so splendid a fortune lost! and all through the
willful caprice of a girl. It fairly drove him mad to think of it--ay,
mad--and desperate.