call with him, but always retired from the scene as soon as propriety
would allow. He seemed to know that David and I were engaged. Once
when it was time for David to call, he failed. Fearing he was ill I
immediately wrote to him to ascertain the cause. His very cold letter
informed me that he had come to our town with the intention of making
his regular call, but had learned that I was being attended in a very
chivalrous manner by his old friend Singleton, and he did not wish to be
classed as an interloper, etc.
“That almost killed me; that letter petrified my heart. It took months of
indulgence and constant coaxing for Mr. Singleton to convince me that it
was David’s plan to jilt me.
“‘You don’t know,’ he said, ‘but there is some one else he loves.’
“He besought me to bestow my love on him, but I was true to David. It was
a fact that I had not answered his letter. I simply ignored him. I still
accepted Mr. Singleton’s attentions and allowed him to condemn David, but
it took more than that to cause me to rescind my promise.
“But the time came—it came, too, just as I had arrived at the conclusion
that I could not live longer without David. Of course, I had Mr.
Singleton at my feet making love to me all the time and I think that had
much to do with my endurance in the matter, for when a woman loves a man
and that man for any reason whatever goes out of her life, she can even
appreciate the affection of a good loyal dog. It seems to fill an aching
void, you know.
“As I said, the time came when the last cord of love which bound me to
David was called upon to stand a severe strain. It happened in this way:
There was a party given near our home. I was invited to attend and Mr.
Singleton had insisted on calling for me, but there had happened to be
one girl in the crowd who had made the remark that I surely must be proud
to be able to take up all of Ned Singleton’s time.
“It stung me, and not caring to be the butt of remarks, I declined to go.
I was at home that evening when about ten o’clock Mr. Singleton called.
He apologized for the time and then went on to say smilingly that he
could not resist the temptation of running in just to tell me that David
was at the party with Emma Cline.
“The blood left my face. I could feel the pallor creeping over me, then
with a flash and a horrid thought, I almost screamed:
“‘I don’t believe it.’
“I was now burning up.
“‘Come,’ said Singleton.
“I went, and there through the bright plate glass I could see that the
bad thought of calling Singleton a liar was entirely wrong. David was
enjoying himself with the other young people.
“The words of love that Mr. Singleton poured into my ear that night
sounded like the song of the nightingale. It soothed my poor, troubled
heart, and seemed to gather the torn and bleeding fragments together and
they grew with a new hope. I did not know that I was yearning to be
loved, but I was. My soul was fed to its full. I had never before fully
enjoyed Singleton’s protestations of love, but now they were as healing
balm, and I was glad to lay my face on his shoulder and weep as a child
weeps for its lost mother, while his strong arms encircled my form. With
each loving word he gave me a firm but gentle pressure, which only made
the shivers and sobs more delightfully thrilling, and while his own great
heart throbbed in muffled accord with mine he kissed away my tears,
smoothed back the straggling locks of hair which clung to my feverish
face and softened my feelings in such a way that when he tenderly took
me in his arms for the last time that night I felt that there had been a
death and a birth at one and the same time, and that I was the mother of
two children and those two were each named Love, and that in the act of
burying one in the darkness of the cavern of despair the other Love had
shed its light and been born into my soul.
“From that on I wondered how a girl could be so foolish as to think she
was in love with anyone until she had known at least more than one man.
“Those were happy days,” said the girl with a sigh, as she glanced at the
little picture.
“And of course you and Mr. Singleton were married,” said I.
“I will tell you all, everything,” she said, then hastily rising, she
walked across the room and gazed out of the window.
When she returned tears were glistening on her cheeks.
I waited for her to continue, which she did after a moment.
“Those were happy days; I mean the last days of Ned’s school, for we
planned our future, at least my future. He graduated with highest honors
and came to see me often during vacation. He had intended to settle in
business somewhere before the next term of school commenced. He was just
killing time for one summer, he said. He seemed to fully realize that his
boyhood days were over and put in his time calling on me and writing to
old college chums.
“We were much surprised when the management of the institution of
learning which he had attended offered him a chair in the college. He had
never aspired to become identified with the faculty, but the honor was
so great for a young man that he was not long in allowing his friends to
persuade him to accept.
“Our wedding day was set; it was to occur during the holiday season.
Just about the time that Ned took his position I realized that our
indiscretions in love had led to a state of affairs that would be
exceedingly embarrassing. I told Ned my trouble and insisted on an
immediate marriage. But he, of course, would not do that. Now that he was
a Professor there must be some deliberation in the matter of a ceremony.
A big wedding must be planned. Then I began to fail in health, and a
physician, who had been an old classmate of Ned’s, advised that I go
South. My mother wished to accompany me, but as my father’s health was
poor I simply declared myself against going unless she remained with him.
I told her I would rather stay at home and die than go away and live at
the expense of my father’s comfort.
“I went alone; no power could help me from the predicament which had been
wrought by folly.
“My babe was born in New Orleans. Ned came to see me as often as his
duties would permit; I had the tenderest of care, and he always commented
on my good appearance when he was with me; but I am sure if he could have
seen me one hour after he had gone he would have thought differently.
“Of course, I begged him to marry me, and he faithfully promised to do
so, but, he said, ‘We must first allow your dishonor to be forgotten.’”
“Think of that, will you—my dishonor!”
At this thought Ethel began to pace the floor, seeming to forget my
presence.
“Ah,” she said, “if the baby had only lived!” Then, clutching the little
square of tin, she pressed it to her lips with the fervor of a loving
mother.
“If you had but lived,” she said, as her deep blue eyes gazed at the
chubby face shown in the picture.
“He put me off from time to time.”
“One day I received a letter from my mother saying that she would visit
me. Horrors! what was I to do. It was at this point that the good little
French woman with whom I was making my home came to my rescue. She was a
mother. She had a child a year older than mine, but still at the breast.
I told her of my predicament.
“‘Never mind, dear,’ said she, with a pat on the head, ‘tell your mere to
come; I will save you.’”
“On the day my mother was to arrive she sent her child to her sister’s
home in the country, and for three days my child received the nourishment
which rightfully belonged to another child.
“I looked quite well and my mother insisted on my returning home with
her, but I made the excuse that I was going to take a course and become a
trained nurse. My argument prevailed.
“In sixty days my baby was at rest in a far off corner in one of the
famous cemeteries of New Orleans, which is the object of so much interest
to travelers from the fact that all the vaults are above the ground.
Then for many reasons, I did go into a training school and eventually
graduated as a professional nurse.
“I followed that occupation for eight years.”
“But what became of Professor Singleton?”
“Oh, he became Professor Doubleton,” said the girl, with a toss of her
head, which denoted more sarcasm than words could imply.
“You mean⸺”
“Yes, I mean he was married three weeks after the baby died, while I was
yet weeping my eyes red as I sat on that cold gray slab of stone each
day.”
“Did you not protest?”
“Yes, I wrote, upbraiding him with all the power I had left, but sorrow
for the loss of my baby had so softened me that my letter was more in the
manner of an appeal than a command, and a man who is as heartless as he
will quickly see a woman’s weak point and will not hesitate to grasp the
opportunity of crushing her so completely that she loses all semblance of
her former self.”
“He did answer me; rather a long letter, too, it was, but among other
things he said that his position in life was so changed and that he would
be able to rise higher if he would marry some one in his present station,
and a lot of such rot. He closed by saying that ‘a woman with a past has
no future.’
“At the end of eight years’ service as a nurse I was a mature woman of
thirty. I had learned enough of the world to be able to take care of
myself. The last patient for whom I cared in the capacity of nurse was a
foreigner; he was a nobleman who had contracted the yellow fever which
was raging in the South at that time.
“One accomplishment which I had picked up at odd times was playing the
guitar. I could sing a little, and this patient, who was wealthy, seemed
to improve so rapidly after he was able to listen and enjoy music that I
would often sit and play and sing softly to him for hours. The music was
not grand, but, as he said, ‘it was vera sweet.’
“As soon as he was able to leave the hospital he insisted that I take
a vacation; purely out of gratitude he took me to New York, where he
lavished many fine presents on me.
“At last, and to my sorrow, the time arrived when the prince must sail
for his native land, and while I did not love him I was sorry to have him
go. He had never been anything to me nor I to him, except on the lines
of purest Platonicy. True, we had been much together. He was kind and
affectionate to me; he had held me in his arms, but beyond the admiration
of pure loyal friendship he had never expressed himself. I think he
detected my feelings as the time for his departure drew near, for I could
tell that he was more attentive and considerate than ever before. One day
he came to my room and found me crying, whereupon he took me gently in
his arms and asked what caused my sorrow; as I sought to free myself that
I might bathe my swollen eyes, this little picture dropped from my bosom
where I had hastily thrust it. Out of chivalry he picked it up and handed
it to me, glancing at it as he did so.
“‘Ah,’ said he, ‘a story, eh?’
“I indignantly replied that I had never lied to him, for I had never told
him anything.
“‘No, no. I mean you have—you—know—perhaps—ah—a life story.’
“Then while he held me in his strong arms I told him all. I think I felt
better after I had finished than I ever had since Ned Singleton had
instilled a hope in my heart. It was only three hours until the boat
would draw in the gang-plank and depart for sunny Italy.
“The prince came to say goodbye, as he held my hands in both his and
looked into my eyes I saw the tenderness shine out of his face, then,
without warning, without power to stop, I burst into tears.
“‘There, there, little girl,’ he said, ‘don’t cry, I won’t go and leave
you; you shall go with me.’
“Glad to leave the country where I had known so much misery and pain I
did not wait for a second invitation. In one hour my trunk was aboard the
vessel, and I was strolling about the deck taking in the wonders which
the huge ocean liner affords the untrained mind of the untraveled novice.
“The state room (our state room) was to me the most wonderful and
interesting point on the boat, so cozy and secluded, to what I had
anticipated, that I felt like lounging around all the time for the first
day or two out.
“The prince was so pleased to have me play and sing to him that I found
great pleasure in that pastime.
“I know you think it strange that a woman of the age that I had reached,
should repeat my youthful indiscretions, but nevertheless I did so.
The commonplace existence of man and mistress seemed very conducive to
pleasure for we did enjoy each other’s society so much.
“We traveled from one point of interest to another in the foreign
country; six years had been spent in sight seeing and pleasure seeking.
I was then thirty-six. We were in Paris when the Chicago World’s Fair
opened. The Prince had often told me that we must begin to surrender each
other, for he was expected to marry someone of rank; I knew all the time
that he was everything to me that it was possible for him to be. I well
knew that I was drifting down the stream of time only to be cast onto
the breakers of separation. We could see the great ghost of dissolution
looming up higher and higher as one by one the days were torn from our
calendar of pleasure. That one haunting thought was the only blot on our
title of happiness. I was surrounded by all the luxuries of the land. The
Prince lavished costly presents on me and seemed so happy when he could
think of some little act of kindness that would especially please me; he
was ever thoughtful and kind, he cared nothing for the company of other
women.
“He came to our apartments one day. I was almost lost in thought and only
looked up and smiled after he had taken my face between his soft hands
and kissed me.
“‘And what is my little Senorita dreaming about now?’ he asked.
“‘I was just thinking,’ I said, ‘that my boy would have been almost a man
now had he lived, and now that I must give you up soon I would have had
some one to love me.’
“‘Oh, don’t worry, little girl,’ (he always called me little girl), ‘I
guess some one will love you.’ He seemed to forget that I was growing
old. I have forgotten to mention that my musical education had been taken
up and I had learned to sing fairly well. I had been thinking how I might
earn a living and when he came in I told him my quandary. He suggested
that I take instruction in French dancing and come to America and join
the profession.
“I hesitated, I could not bring myself to the point of considering such a
proposition, while such joy as I now possessed lasted. Then the necessity
of supporting myself again forced itself into my mind, and we laid the
plans which later brought me to this city. I gained a fair knowledge of
heel and toe dancing, and believing what my teacher said, I considered
myself competent to fill an engagement in America. As a last farewell
trip my Prince concluded to sail with me, we would take in the sights of
the World’s Fair here and he would then say goodbye and leave me in my
native land, older, wiser and as unhappy as when he found me, but it must
all end. He had done all and more for me than he had promised. It was
such a rarity for a man to keep his word with me that the novelty of the
thing was entrancing.
“The Fair and all its glories were viewed and absorbed by us. Then came
the sad bitter end of all; we must give up all pleasures. I shall never
forget the last few days of his stay. We sat up late into the night,
reviewing all our travels.
“Then goodbye—I lived days in blank despair. Each time I looked on some
treasure he had given me, tears would flow so freely as to indicate no
control of the flood gates which my eyes appeared to be.
“At last, more to attract my mind to other things, I made application for
a position. I did not need to work yet, for the Prince had left me with a
well filled purse. I had no trouble in getting an engagement. I rehearsed
all day, performed in the evening, went to my room at night and looked
at this poor little picture and cried myself to sleep. My boy would have
been nineteen. I used to try and imagine what he would have been like as
a full grown man.
“One night as I was doing my turn I saw in the audience Professor
Singleton. He did not recognize me, and fool like I left the stage and
cried. I arose the next day with that long reaching determination and
desire to see him and talk with him. It was an easy matter to search
the hotels. I found him. He failed to recognize me at first, but a few
words from me quickly convinced him of my identity. I learned that his
daughter, who was nearly seventeen, was attending a musical college here.
Then I wanted to see her, but was careful not to let him know my wishes
in that direction.
“I soon found her and managed to make her my friend. She was a sweet
girl; I often closed my eyes and took her in my arms with brain afire and
ears strained, almost expecting to hear her call me mamma.
“We grew fond of each other. She was filled with a desire to go on the
stage.
“I dared not ask her about her home or her parents. One day she came to
me asking me to go with her to the station to meet a friend, as she put
it. That friend was her father. I would not have gone for worlds for I
was not inclined to make anyone suffer. I am sure I did not expect to
be a witness of what happened. I gave him credit for having more sense,
but as she led me to meet him, instead of being a man and accepting
his position by bowing to the circumstances, he turned his back on me,
grabbed Ione by the arm, and hurried her into a carriage.
“He came to me the next day and his abuse was as shameful and disgraceful
as it was uncalled for. He insisted that I had taken foul means to poison
his child’s mind. I begged for pity. I tried to stay his scathing tongue;
but, no. He would show me, a public woman, how to entice a pure young
girl from her duty. Then he struck me, the brute. I might have forgiven
all he said, for I suppose he was sincere in his belief, but he should
not have been so cruel as to use personal violence. He went away and left
me lying on the floor in agony. My mind was quickly made up. He prized
this daughter so highly that he could lay me low in the dust and dirt. I,
who should have been mother to his second child the same as I was to the
first. My child by him had long ago been food for the worms. I resolved
that his daughter should meet a fate worse than did his son. I would ruin
her and then ask him to strike again, strike the kind of a blow that _he_
deserved when I was young and fair like his much beloved daughter.
“The plan was long. I had many admirers, several of whom professed to
love me; one in particular whom I think meant it. I sent for him and
quickly told him that I had been injured, and that a certain young lady
was the cause of it. He immediately grew gallant and suggested that he
assist me in punishing my tormenter. That was what I wanted. He would
do anything for me especially when there was a girl in the case. I told
him how he could meet her. He followed my instructions, went to her and
represented himself as a theatrical man who was just organizing a company.
“She took the bait easily and when she was more than half drunk he
brought her to my home, where several members of the profession had
gathered for a little dinner. She soon forgot all about the footlights,
and when she was thoroughly under the influence we put her to bed. Her
downfall was as complete as the plan that caused it. We kept her there
for four days and to make my victory more pronounced I wired for her
father. His curse on her was worse than the one that rested upon me. He
cast her off and attempted to strike her but I was on the lookout. I put
myself between him and her with a dagger. He was a coward.
“He went away. Ione became herself again but she was a pitiable
object. She wanted so much to die. Just at this time the Prince came
unexpectedly; he had concluded that he could not live without me and had
come to take me, rank or no rank. He met Ione Singleton; her sadness
caused him to ask questions. I told him all, and then with my arms around
his neck asked him if he wished me to be happy.
“‘Of course I do, dearest, and came to try and make you so.’
“‘Then,’ said I, ‘marry Ione, and not me.’
“He objected, but I would not yield, and she is a princess now, having
lavished upon her the same kind treatment which almost healed the wound
so much like hers, that I had suffered.”
TALE FIVE.
A FORECAST.
“Ah, that is the ship from over the sea,
That is bringing my lover back to me,
Bringing my lover so fond and true,
Who does not change like the wind like you.”
“Oh, my! Look at that. Money, a letter, and good news. Oh, jolly! Three
aces, change of places, and affection of a dark man, and a diamond woman
has good hearts for me, and great days! Of all things! Well, just look at
that! The nine of diamonds, my wish! I am going to get my wish, so I am,
’cause the cards say so!”
I stood in the open door as the above monologue was being rendered,
feeling a trifle guilty at the thought that I was even a friendly
eavesdropper. I consoled myself, however, with the assurance that I did
not intend to listen, and that I stood as I did all on account of the
picture before me. Even the calloused heart of the writer was felt to
swell, and his mind counted backward to a time when he often looked upon
such sights as I now beheld.
The room was small, but very cozy and well furnished. The careless
confusion with which the pillows and doilies were scattered around the
room was so absolutely natural that it helped me to form an opinion
of the occupant. And she was but little more than a child. There she
sat tailor fashion on the soft, fur rug, shuffling and dealing a pack
of cards, all the time prattling to herself as some card was turned
over that would signify any important event in her life. Her sweet,
youthful voice was in unison with the rings of light shining hair, while
the rosebud mouth seemed to talk only to keep the big blue eyes from
expressing the feelings of this care free heart.
When the merry chattering ceased I concluded it was absolutely necessary,
for manner’s sake if nothing more, to make my presence known. I did so by
addressing the young lady.
“Ah, are you here? When did you come? Won’t you sit down?”
The running fire of questions did not disturb me in the least, for before
I could frame an answer to any of them she continued to talk.
“Now, that is right; take that big, soft chair and here, for goodness
sake, let me take your hat. I was just telling my fortune, and don’t you
know, it just came out fine, not a bad card in it—isn’t that jolly? And
would you like to have your fortune told? No, I am not in that business
and will not charge you, so there now, isn’t that cheap enough?”
To which I replied that I should prefer to be entertained by her own
conversation than to have any forecast added by reading the spots.
“Oh, well, I can’t entertain.”
“Yes, but you can give me some news.”
“News?”
“Yes.”
“What subject can I enlighten you on?”
“Well, you are such an interesting little body I think I should like to
know all about yourself.”
“All that I know is that I am in love, and, oh, yes, I am very, very
rich, I guess, at least my lawyer says so.”
“I did not know you were a woman of wealth.”
“I know. You see no one knows that but my attorney and myself, and now
that I have told you, you also know it, but you won’t tell it, will you?”
“Not if you wish it to remain a secret, but now that you have told me so
much, will you tell me why you do not want the fact to become public?”
“Well, you see, as I said, I am in love, and I guess to tell you one part
I must tell you all, but you are one of those horrid newspaper reporters.
You will have that all printed.”
“No, not until you have given your permission.”
“Have some candy, and see, here is a present I just received yesterday.
Isn’t he a little darling?”
Whereupon this little one hundred ten pound mite of humanity dropped a
silk poodle from under a soft comforter with one hand while she passed a
box of Allegrettis to me with the other. While I in turn patted the dog
with one hand and at the same time relieved the box of a couple of pieces
of the sweet-meats.
“Now,” said I, “let’s have a story.”
“Well, you see, it was this way. I was born in Janesville, Wisconsin. My
father was a mechanic; he was poor, so very poor, that my mother’s folks,
who were rich, got awfully mad when she married papa. They would not go
to see her nor allow her to go to see them.