IN THE BALANCES.
At last the day came on which Dorlan was to submit his plan to Morlene.
He arose early that morning, packed his trunk, boxed up his most important
papers and wrote out instructions as to the disposition to be made of his
other possessions. These preparations completed, he walked down town to the
post office and sent his plan to Morlene as registered matter. Having done
this, Dorlan returned to his boarding place and bade all a sorrowful
good-bye, stating that a great deal of uncertainty was attendant upon his
journey, and that he knew not whether he would ever return to R----. Going
down to the depot, he was soon aboard a train speeding away.
In the meanwhile Morlene had received the documents sent to her. In
addition to the plan, Dorlan had sent a personal letter, on the envelope of
which were written these words, "Please do not read the enclosed letter
until you have read and passed upon the plan." Morlene lifted the envelope
to her lips, kissed it, and laid it away, intending to read the letter
after her study of the plan, in keeping with Dorlan's wishes.
Morlene was deeply conscious as to how much depended upon her verdict on
Dorlan's plan. Her own and the happiness of Dorlan were involved. The
suffering, restless Negroes were to be offered a panacea and she was their
representative to accept or reject the proffered medicine. The welfare of
the South and the peace of the nation were at stake. Upon the outcome of
the race question in America the hopes of the darker races of the world
depended. Even the cause of popular government was involved, she felt, for
it was to be seen whether a republic could deal with a race problem of so
virulent a type. Thus, with the eyes of the world upon her, Morlene
unfolded the manuscript and began its study.
As the document was somewhat voluminous, and as the issues involved were of
such grave import to the cause of humanity, Morlene decided that she would
proceed about her task with much deliberation. Had she known the contents
of Dorlan's personal letter she would have proceeded with more dispatch.
This Dorlan knew, and not desiring the personal element to appear in her
study of the plan enjoined that she should pursue her work without being
influenced by what was contained in his letter.
So, after reading a while, Morlene laid the manuscript aside and spent the
remainder of the day in meditating on what she had read. The second day
she did likewise. Morlene began to be much elated, for, as the paper
progressed, she saw that Dorlan was treating the subject in a most
comprehensive way. Thus, from day to day, she read and pondered, her hopes
rising higher and higher.
Sometimes when Dorlan would enter upon the discussion of some particularly
difficult question, her old feeling of fear would return, but when in a
most masterly manner he would sweep away the seeming difficulties just as
though they were so many cobwebs, her heart would leap joyfully. By and by,
after the lapse of many days Morlene drew near to the close of the
document. When, on the last day of her perusal, she read the last words of
the last page, and her mind flashed back to the beginning and surveyed in
general outline the whole, her enthusiasm knew no bounds. In quavering
tones the sweet voice of this girl, charged and surcharged with love and
patriotism, murmured the words, "Columbia is saved. Let all mankind
henceforth honor the name of Dorlan, the hero of humanity." She now secured
Dorlan's letter, broke the seal and read as follows, a look of pain
deepening on her beautiful face as she read.
THE LETTER.
"DEAR MORLENE:
"As best I could, heaven knows, I have wrestled with
the problem assigned to me by you, the queen of my
heart. Some one has said that the most _sublime_
incident in all of human history was Martin Luther's
standing alone before the Diet of Worms. Side by side
with that statement let all men now write that my
situation is the most excruciatingly _painful_ one that
a human being has ever been called upon to endure. When
I first met you, circumstances forced me to stifle the
love that was ready to burst into a flame.
Subsequently, fate decreed that you should be free, and
my heart ran riot.
"But fate was determined that one so beautiful and so
worthy as yourself should not be won until the wooer
appeared in some degree worthy of the lady whose hand
was desired.
"Now, dear Morlene, tell me by what process, human or
divine, I could be made in any measure worthy of you?
If this plan is supposed to achieve that result, is
supposed to mark me as worthy of your hand, it has
failure written on its face. This conclusion would seem
to be beyond the realm of debate. And yet my reason
tells me that the plan must of necessity succeed; that,
being based upon incontrovertible laws there is no way
for it to fail.
"Now, Morlene, my darling, with my powers of intuition
telling me that I must fail of winning your hand and
with my reason telling me I have successfully performed
the task assigned me, what must I do? Hope and Fear
have come to terms in my bosom, and one occupies the
throne one minute and the other the next. They
alternate thus by day and by night. In my dreams I am
sometimes as happy as the angels are reputed to
be--happier than they, I should say. But the joy is
short-lived, and in my dreams I find myself tumbling
over precipices and wading through miry swamps.
"I could not stay in R----, and in quietness await your
verdict. I have had to travel, to lessen, if possible,
the strain of anxiety upon my mind. So, when you find
yourself reading this letter, I shall be hundreds of
miles away at Galveston, Texas, on the beach of the
great Gulf. I am here awaiting your verdict. If it is
favorable, I shall return to you forthwith. If
unfavorable, I am at a port where ships are daily
leaving for all parts of the world. Enough for that.
"Finally, dear one, if the scheme which I submitted to
you affords the necessary assurance that the problem
will be solved, telegraph to me the one word,
'Unfettered.' If it does not afford such assurance, let
your message be 'Fettered still.'
"Am I yours,
_Forever or Never_?
"DORLAN WARTHELL."
When Morlene finished reading the letter it was covered with the tears that
had sped down her cheeks. "Dear, dear boy! how much he must have suffered,
if he loves me thus!" So saying, she arose and hastened toward the
telegraph office for the purpose of sending a message to Dorlan.
"Suppose my delay has begotten in Dorlan the recklessness of despair,"
thought Morlene, and fear born of the terrible thought seemed to lend her
wings.