He had wandered about like a soul condemned and lost to eternity. But
the one hope to meet her again possessed him, kept him alive. And
then--she'll come back to him--he was convinced of that; to his lonely
little Mary. And after all she might be touched by his devoted love
that knows how to pardon and overlook certain occurrences in the life
of a giddy-headed woman!
Unfortunately the cold, calculating coquette had never felt a tinge
of anything like love, and had only an observing eye for the monthly
allowances he received from his well-to-do parents.
He had come to Dresden a young, inexperienced student to pursue a
course in literature and jurisprudence. The handsome, dashing woman,
somewhere in the twenties, soon allured him with her well tried
arts. Within a short time he was her devoted slave and did not see
nor hear anything else but her alluring voice, and after six months'
acquaintance he led her to the altar without the knowledge of his
parents.
When they found it out, through a friend living in Dresden, they were
in despair, in their helpless anger. His mother never recovered from
the rude shock her ambition had received. She did not know the woman,
but when she heard that she belonged to a different faith, she was
crushed, although the noble catholicity of spirit that distinguished
her character did not allow her to show it. Her proudest hope to see
that beloved son some day a respected citizen and lawyer in that little
provincial town where his cradle stood, was gone forever!
Years of wrestling with life's sorrows had set upon her noble,
benignant countenance, almost a seal of holiness, and shed over her
placid features the mild, sweet life of a pure heart. Her white hair,
the snowy mass prematurely white, wonderfully softened the outlines of
her face.
Now deep lines commenced to furrow her sweet, indulgent features, and
she grieved so deeply over the disgrace that she began to lose her
health. Silently, without a word to her husband she performed her
household duties, until one day her enfeebled constitution gave way and
she died, praying for the only child she had ever had.
Her husband, Mr. Burge, under the double stress of the sorrow, refused
to hear anything of the ungrateful son, for whom he had slaved and
worked all his life, and whose grievous mistake in marrying an
adventuress, had cost the mother's life.
He had a large estate to look after, but he was alone now. He needed
the son, but what could he do? He was ashamed of the daughter-in-law!
"No, not a cent of my money can she have," he murmured constantly to
himself with a flushed face and dry lips, looking at his imposing
estate, where the beautiful Rhine rushed by and the tumbled down
castles of long-forgotten races were seen in the distance.
The irate father dissolved all connection with the son and stopped all
payments, denying him any assistance whatsoever in the future.
After the regular allowance from home had entirely ceased, it was
necessary for the young husband to go and seek some profitable
employment to support his expensive wife.
He had never earned a cent, and racked his brain now how to get money.
The tantalizing condition pressed upon him that he might not be able
to support his family. Finally, he got a position with a meagre salary
in a newspaper office, but he was scarcely able to provide the barest
necessaries of life.
He commenced to write short stories. Although he had no ambition
to climb to such a lofty niche in the temple of fame, he thought
he might at least earn a modest income. Short stories and humorous
lectures--that must make a hit. Everybody said that he had a humorous
vein. Now the time had come to show his mettle, but the short stories
were generally returned. The irate father had ceased to send money and
no other help was discoverable. And then--after all that--she, his
loving wife, dropped her mask and showed herself in her true colors.
"I have had enough of this," she said with a disgusted shrug of her
white shoulders to her horrified husband. "I don't intend to starve
here."
In vain he begged her to have a little patience for the sake of their
child. The last short story must turn out to be a great success; he
felt it and was really convinced of it.
"Convinced," she sneered contemptuously and turned away. No use of
losing any breath about it, she thought. I am through with him anyway.
Oh! How she longed to be rich, wear stylish clothes and be admired.
The beautiful coquette became restless in her little home; she looked
about sick at heart, unable to tolerate it any longer, only wishing to
get the opportunity to leave it forever. Her eyes were full of scorn
when looking at her husband, who could not supply her with all that she
longed for just now, and for which she would have pledged the salvation
of her very soul. She commenced to frequent public places in the
absence of her husband.
How she loathed poverty! "Anything but that," she murmured to herself,
her face white with disgust as she walked on, gazing in all directions
to see one of her former acquaintances, with a strange unrest in her
large eyes. Her opportunity would come; she was sure of that, and it
came in meeting one day the rich Englishman who was introduced to her
by one of her former friends and boon companions.
Shortly after this encounter, she received a letter from the Englishman
telling her of the deep and lasting impression she had made on him and
how he longed to see her again. Her face flushed with pleasure as she
read all these, and then perused an invitation to take an automobile
ride through the beautiful mountains.
For some time she sat dazzled, and then she looked at the poorly
furnished rooms; at her own wretched outfit, and her eyes flashed
indignantly.
"I am through with all this. Here is the opportunity I was longing
for," she said with a contemptuous smile. "I'll show him--the young
inexperienced fool I have married--that beauty counts for a whole lot
and ... boldness even more."
She stopped at the window and looked down at the Englishman's
automobile before her door.
"The opportunity--my opportunity has come." These words rang
ceaselessly in her ears and filled her being with a strange endeavor
to avenge herself on the man who could not supply her with all the
luxuries she craved for, and according to her ethics, was entitled to.