Then had come the hour of temptation to him. Sweet Margaret had come
into his life, and he found himself shaken to the very depths of his
being, but he came forth conqueror. He loved the girl with all the power
of an intense nature, but he would never seek to bind her. His love
should bless her but never prove a scourge. The girl’s heart had grown
faint when it had caught his meaning. Love, sweet, pure soul-redeeming
love, had come to her, but not such as the world knew it. She was not to
know the meaning of the word wife. O, how her love had been tested! But
love had conquered, and together they had studied the problem that had
at first appeared as though it would prove the shoal upon which their
bark of life was to be wrecked. But the skillful hands of reason had
warded off the dreaded disaster and had safely guided them through the
rocks out into the smooth waters of the mid ocean, but for the present
they were adrift; as yet they could not see the shore, the haven where
they might safely be anchored. Now and then this caused the trusting
maiden an anxious pang, the honorable man a deeper pain than he wished
to betray, but the sky was clear, bright sunshine and smooth waters made
the way very pleasant. So they were content to drift on.
Margaret had learned to understand the meaning of the glorious freedom
that her lover sought to secure to her. She had looked deep into the
mysteries of married life with the aid of that mother whose experiences
had been so terrible. She had learned also to walk with open eyes and to
read the signs as she walked. And oh, how her pure soul revolted at the
hideous sights that were covered with a filmy veil, sights that the
gauze like covering made only the more horrible by the vain attempt at
concealment.
She lifted the smiling blue eyes to the clouded face of her friend who
seemed almost to have forgotten her presence.
“Well, Imelda, what do you think? Do you now understand how I could
express myself as I did some days ago?”
“I understand now, as I did then, that you had just cause to mistrust
the present institution of marriage. I do not blame you, but there is
still much that is not clear to me. What else can we do, if we would not
sacrifice nature’s truest, purest instincts?”
Margaret slowly shook her head, and scarcely above a whisper came the
words:
“I do not know.”
Wilbur had been observing the girls and had heard the low-spoken words.
A sad smile played about his lips.
“Wait,” he gently said. “The problem is too great to be solved in one
short afternoon. It has caused me considerable thought for quite a
number of years. As yet I have found no satisfactory solution, but do
not despair of eventually doing so. When woman becomes conscious of her
true worth she will soon find means to have that worth recognized. I
think, however, for a first lesson, Miss Ellwood has done extremely
well. Suppose we discuss some commonplace subject for a change. The
weather for instance. Have we not been having some very fine weather for
October?”
Both girls looked up, first at Wilbur, then at each other. There was
nothing remarkable about discussing the weather, but just at this moment
it sounded ridiculous, and but for the fact that Wilbur’s face was like
an impenetrable mask they would have burst out laughing. As it was they
controlled the desire and soon found themselves discussing plays,
literature, art, etc., which they found very interesting.
The minutes passed by and soon they arrived at their destination. The
parting words were said, Wilbur giving expression to the sincere wish
that she would again join their circle.
And Imelda did join them, again and again. She seemed drawn to the
circle in the lecture room by some magic force. Question after question
on that radical platform was brought up for discussion. The fields of
science also were explored. She soon found that she was able to learn at
that place more in a few short months than in all probability she would
have learned in the outside world in years.
Many were the battles she was called upon to fight with the deep rooted
superstitions of other days. Idol after idol crumbled to dust beneath
the merciless fingers, but bravely she held out while scale after scale
fell from the weak eyes until at last they grew stronger and she could
see as with a new light. Bright and clear was now what had seemed dark
and murky before. The new truths burst upon her in all their splendor
and at last Imelda was ready to take her place in the world as an
inspired priestess of the new realm of thought; of the new truths by
means of which the world should be renovated and womankind uplifted.
Thus time had slipped by and brought its changes to Imelda. Her mother
had been laid to rest at her father’s side, and in spite of the desire
of her friends to share their home, she had made one for herself. Humble
though her little attic room might be she was queen in its realm.
They were indeed dark days that now fell to the lot of Imelda. It was
hard to hide the aching heart beneath a smiling exterior, but it was
part of her daily task, and bravely did she accomplish it. But when she
returned at night to spend the evening alone in her little room, it was
then that she was often overcome; it was then that the over tired spirit
gave way to grief. As she looked around at the many little mementoes of
earlier and happier days, they brought vividly to her memory the times
when her father, with his favorite child at his side, had permitted her
to look into the depths of his artist soul. If home had not always been
the most pleasant of places, yet at those times she had not known the
meaning of the word sorrow as she now knew it. Father and mother were
now sleeping in the silent grave. The brother and sister who ought, by
nature’s ties, to be more closely drawn to her now than ever before,
were, she knew not where. And in the new light in which she now looked
upon the world, she felt more sorrow than anger toward the wayward
absent ones. O, if she could but have the assurance that the future
would develop the better part of their natures she felt she could
willingly forget the past. Could she but find them! She thought that
perhaps there might yet be a way of reaching their hearts; but never a
word did she hear from either. If it had not been for the friendship of
Margaret, who was more and more a true sister to her, her life would
indeed have been lonely and dark.
Nor was Margaret her only friend. Among the circle of radicals where
Imelda was a constant attendant she found many that were sympathetic in
more ways than one, but none attracted her more powerfully than did Mr.
Roland. He was more like a father than a mere friend, and fatherly had
often been the advice that the kind and sympathetic old gentleman had
given her. One other, also, had an influence over her life and strongly
did she feel herself attracted in this direction. That other was Wilbur
Wallace. In spite of the love he bore the winsome Margaret, the sad
dark-eyed Imelda had the power to stir his heart to its very depths.
Fain would he have folded both sweet girls to his great loving heart and
cherished them there as priceless treasures. Margaret saw and understood
what was going on in the heart of the man she loved, but she understood
also that that which was “her own” would remain her own, and she “feared
not.”
Margaret was right. Even though Imelda’s head was sometimes pillowed on
the breast of her lover and even though he should kiss the tears from
the sad eyes and hush the fear of the trembling lips, what of it? The
love that was to throw Imelda’s whole being into a tumult was yet to be
called forth by another. This love that she felt for Wilbur Wallace was
a sweet, tranquil affection, undisturbed by the passions that clamor for
possession. Knowing and understanding this, the two girls were more firm
friends than ever. If now and then Wilbur felt a stronger emotion; an
emotion that would cost him an effort to subdue, no one but himself was
aware of it. He knew that the time had not as yet come that it would be
practicable to give vent to his feelings in the manner that he felt was
right and natural, and that the well being and happiness of both these
girls was far too dear to his noble heart for him to cause them one
needless pang.
Thus matters stood when one day Margaret startled them by stating her
determination to prepare to go upon the stage. She knew that she
possessed dramatic talent of no mean order, and had often expressed a
desire to choose the stage as a means of earning a livelihood. Nor did
she meet with opposition now from her friends, although they were at
first somewhat taken aback. Within a week she was in the hands of a
competent teacher. This, of course, necessitated study, and instead of
spending so many of her evenings as she had hitherto done in the society
of Wilbur and Imelda, she was forced to devote her spare time to books.
This fact caused Imelda and Wilbur to be more often thrown together than
ever before. Now it was music they practiced together; then it was a new
book they read and discussed, while now and then they would go and hear
some good opera. As a general thing when such was the case Margaret
would go also, as she passionately loved the queens of song; and her
sweet lips only curved in a happy smile as she observed the good
understanding between the two whom she so dearly loved. That such a
thing could be possible as Imelda winning her lover from her never once
entered Margaret’s mind. And she was right. Wilbur Wallace did not hold
lightly the gift of his Margaret’s love.