Quite a while she lay thus, for the first time giving full vent to her
feelings. She had not intended to do so, but of what avail are good
resolutions when the heart is full to overflowing; when every fiber
clings to some loved object from which it is about to be separated, and
she had not known how close her heart had clung and was clinging to this
handsome, noble man, this lover of her best, her almost only friend. In
spite of all the teachings and theorizing of later days the thought
would steal into her mind—was it right? Is it right? Was she, O, was she
wronging that noble girl? But Margaret’s clear eyes still wore the same
sweet, shining light that they had always been wont to wear. Always
cheerful, always loving. If she considered herself wronged she certainly
understood how to most successfully hide it.
But in giving shape and being to such a thought, was she not wronging
Margaret? Her ideas of right and wrong were far too lofty to permit her
for one instant to entertain such a sentiment. Would not the idea that
those precious friends by their love were wronging her, be equivalent to
placing a curb upon the natural outpourings of their hearts? Would not
this thought be an infringement on personal liberty? To prove that she
had been wronged Margaret must analyze the how! Could it in this case be
otherwise than that some one person had taken or appropriated something
that was her own, her personal property? Now how could any one rob her
of her own? She knew and felt that that which was her own no one else
could take from her, for just as soon as that which she had thought her
own was appropriated by another, the unquestionable, the insurmountable
truth confronted her that the said object had not been her own. Or,
again, if such could once have been the case it proved now her inability
to hold it and consequently at the same time proved her unworthiness.
Are we, is anyone, justified in an attempt to forcibly retain that which
in nature is attracted elsewhere?
Margaret in her reasoning would have answered “No!” Therefore it was the
height of folly to speak of robbing her. And when the object in
question, as in this case, was the heart of a man, was it not a question
so easily answered as not to leave a shadow of doubt that he who bore
the heart in question in his bosom was the natural owner thereof, and as
such, was possessed of the indisputable right to dispose of it?
But Imelda, through his love for her, might sway that heart? O, yes!
that was her right, as he had granted it to her. That another, equally
pure and good girl had the power to win and sway him also proved only to
her that his nature was more grand, his character more noble, his mind
more pure, and his heart vastly larger than that of other men. No!
Margaret did not feel herself wronged, although she knew that Imelda
held an equally warm place in his great heart.
But as yet Imelda did not fully realize and understand the full grandeur
of Margaret’s nature; how wholly uncalled for her fears were; and when
she gave expression to this fear that was making havoc with her peace,
Wilbur who knew and understood the noble sentiments of his brave
Margaret answered the agitated girl:
“Where is the usually clear-headed woman, the woman who has discussed so
often these questions of right and wrong? of individual liberty, of
universal liberty? the question of the emancipation of women from sex
slavery? the woman who has been claiming and agitating for herself, and
for her much wronged sex, the right to the indisputable ownership of
herself? In accordance with all this, would you now place all your
holiest and purest feelings and desires in a bondage most unnatural?
Would you not by such action admit the right of one person to dictate a
‘thou shalt’ and ‘thou shalt not’ to another? Look up, my sweet. You do
not think me, and believe me, still so far in the old ruts and so deep
in the old superstitions and prejudices that in order to love one girl I
must prove false and disloyal in my allegiance to another.
“See! as yet we have not arrived at the point of action. We have not yet
the strength to stand and walk alone. As yet we are only theorizing. The
few advocates of Love in Liberty with whom we have been associating in
an intimate circle are not egotistic enough to expect our women, our
girls, to shake off the restraining hands of society and act in accord
with their beliefs and views. That would mean ostracism. We dare not
place so heavy a load upon weak shoulders without giving them the
assurance that at all events their future is provided for. Stern,
demoralizing poverty binds our hands, and until ways and means are found
which will show us in a clear light the road we are to travel we must
conquer nature’s desires and wait, patiently wait. But shall this
circumstance prevent us also from folding the sweet loved ones to our
hearts and from laying the kiss of pure and holy love upon their lips?
Never! Imelda, you would not ask it. What is it to us if the whole world
declares the human heart is capable of only one small dwarfed love. We
know better; we who have been developing under Nature’s teachings. We
will follow nature’s promptings and permit our hearts to expand in the
sunshine of their beauty, wherever and whenever this beauty bursts in
its glory upon us.”
Placing his hand gently under and raising the tear-wet face until he
could look into the shining moist eyes, and bending low his lips pressed
hers in a long and lingering kiss, and by and by under the influence of
his caresses and soothing words a quiet peace stole over Imelda, only
that subtle pain that held her heart, as with an icy grip would torment
her and—well she knew what caused it.
“But,—‘Harrisburg’”—Wilbur was speaking—“is not the end of the world by
any means. We will meet again, my love. I feel it. Probably when the
clouds have passed away, when we can see clearer and know what we can do
and ought to do. And then, who knows, in that unknown future into which
you are about to step, may be a work for you to perform. Your destiny
may be lying awaiting your coming. There you may find him who will prove
your best loved one. Nay, sweet one; shake not your head. I am not vain
enough, not conceited enough to think that I alone should possess the
power to sway your gentle heart. No! I hope you may prove yourself
stronger and greater than the common everyday woman, whose ideal of pure
love is centered in one poor, weak mortal with his one, two, perhaps
more, sterling good qualities yet who will prove himself lacking in
others equally good, nay, perhaps better qualities, which will be
represented in another man but which by her must be passed by unnoticed
because not centered in the person of her one love. No! my darling. I
hope the time will come when a grander passion will come to you than I
have inspired.”
Wilbur smiled as he again folded her close and kissed the trembling
lips. “I appreciate the sweet tender love that fills and swells your
gentle breast, but I know, if you do not, that it will be another than
myself who will be able to shake this woman’s heart of yours to the very
foundation of your being. Under the influence of a mightier love than
you have yet felt you will awake to your full strength. Then will come
the time when you will arise to the height and glory of your work in the
cause of humanity, in the cause of womankind.”
He spoke the words soothingly, smoothing the glossy dark braids, as if
thereby to cause the pain of the present hour to gently pass over. Did
he feel that his words would prove prophetic? With a swift motion
peculiar to herself she threw her head slightly back looking upward into
the earnest eyes, taking his face between both her hands, she said,
softly, gently:
“Wilbur, you are a man among men! A friend whom any woman might well
count a priceless treasure. Whether or not it is true that my heart will
find another whom, in time, it will own king, this much I do know, that
I know of no place where I would rather rest than in your strong
sheltering arms, but the time has come that I must stand alone. I am
about to weigh the last anchor that holds me to the old life. In a few
hours I shall be speeding away, cut loose from all the old ties. I will
be brave now, and calmly look the coming time squarely in the face.”
Saying which she disengaged herself from the encircling arms.
“Where is Margaret?” Scarcely had the question dropped from her lips
when the answer came just outside the door.
“Here! I am late, I know, and that too when I wanted to be here early in
order to have one more hour with my darling girl, ere we are parted. But
mamma was quite sick this morning; something unusual for her, as she
generally has such good health. I left her sleeping, however, and
feeling much better.” This last in answer to the anxious inquiry that
fell from two pairs of lips at the same time.
“O, my precious, precious darling, must I really lose you? I cannot
realize that it can be true that I am to lose my friend, my Imelda;” and
the two girls sank into each other’s arms, clasping each other in a
tender loving embrace, mingling their pain and tears. Wilbur stepped to
the window and studied the tops of the buildings upon which he gazed in
order to give these two tried and true friends an opportunity for a last
exchange of a multitude of thoughts and emotions that were thronging
their breasts and seeking utterance in incoherent speech. But time is
merciless in its flight. Wilbur turned to remind the girls that the
final moments were drawing very near.