"I WILL NEVER HUMBLE MYSELF TO YOU AGAIN."
Fare thee well, and if forever,
Still forever fare thee well,
Even though unforgiving, never
'Gainst thee shall this heart rebel.
BYRON.
Helen Fox was a very bright girl. She did not tell Kathleen that Ralph
Chainey frequently visited the house, nor did she mention to him that
Kathleen was to be her guest. Yet she knew very well that the unhappy
young lovers were sure to meet under her roof.
And, in fact, Kathleen had not been twenty-four hours at Helen's when
George Fox encountered Ralph somewhere, and dragged him home with him.
Kathleen was playing and singing for Helen. Her back was turned to the
door, so she did not know when the two young gentlemen entered and
silently seated themselves, obeying a gesture from Helen.
The young girl, unconscious of her lover's presence, sung on, sweetly
and sadly:
"One word is too often profaned,
For me to profane it,
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it.
One hope is too like to despair,
For prudence to smother,
And Pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
"I can give not when men call love,
But wilt thou accept not--
The worship the heart lifts above
And the heavens reject not,
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the day for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?"
The plaintive words rang in sad echoes through her lover's brain:
"The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the day for the morrow?"
She turned around, and in a minute more she saw him coming forward to
speak to her. A start, and she recovered herself enough to speak to
him, but her voice faltered, and the little hand, as it touched his,
was deadly cold. It was like the old, sad song:
"We met--'twas in a crowd,
And I thought he would shun me,
He came, I could not breathe,
For his eyes were upon me,
He spoke--his words were cold,
Though his smile was unaltered--
I knew how much he felt,
For his deep-toned voice faltered."
She did not know what he was saying to her, or what she murmured in
reply. She could realize nothing clearly but the ecstatic consciousness
of his presence, that had such power to thrill her whole being.
Then she found herself slipping into a seat by Helen, and twining her
cold fingers in those of her friend. They turned the conversation
cleverly away from her, but in a very few moments George Fox got up and
left the room, saying as he went:
"I will get those specimens we were talking about, Ralph."
Ten minutes later he called down the stairs:
"Helen, will you please come up and help me find those things I brought
from Palestine for Ralph?"
"George can never find anything without my assistance," laughed the
young girl, as she excused herself and left the room.
The unhappy lovers were alone together--perhaps by the clever scheming
of George and Helen, perhaps by chance; who could tell?
There ensued a moment of intense embarrassment. Kathleen, sitting with
down-dropped eyes, felt her lover's eager brown eyes upon her, and a
deep blush arose to her beautiful face. Slowly she raised her bashful
eyes and they met his--deep, passionate, reproachful, beseeching,
all in one. In spite of herself, her own gaze replied to that
look--answered love for love.
A moment, and he rose and came toward her. She thrilled with ecstasy
as he sat down by her side. Her little hand, icy cold a moment before,
grew burning hot as he touched it with his own.
"Kathleen, forgive me," he murmured, "but I can not let this blessed
chance pass. I wrote to you. Did you receive my letter?"
"Yes," she faltered.
"Cruel girl! And you would not reply? Kathleen, was that just or fair?
Could you find no excuse in your heart for me when I had told you my
whole sad story?"
"I--I--was sorry for you. I--wanted to--write--but I promised not to,"
she whispered, almost inaudibly.
"Promised not to write to me!" His dark eyes flashed with anger. "Who
was so cruel as to forbid you? Mr. Darrell?"
"No--No! Teddy knows nothing. It was my uncle. It seemed to him that it
would not be right to my--to--to--Mr. Darrell!"
"To Mr. Darrell! Oh, Kathleen, is it true, that you will marry him? Do
you love him?"
"Do not ask me. It is not right. You--you--are not free!" she cried,
trying to be loyal to her absent betrothed.
"I shall be--soon. The courts will certainly grant me a divorce from
that dreadful woman. But then, Kathleen, my freedom will avail me
nothing if you are lost to me! Oh, my own love--my darling! be brave,
and break through the fetters that bind you to this man you do not
love! Wait for me?"
Oh, the passionate pleading in his voice and eyes! how they thrilled
her soul. She wished to herself that she had never seen poor Teddy,
whom she had so rashly promised to marry.
"Oh, I must not listen to you!" she sobbed. "Please, Ralph, do not
speak to me so; do not look at me! I can not bear your eyes!" and she
hid her own with a trembling hand.
There was silence for a moment, but Ralph could not give it up. It
seemed to him that he was pleading for more than life.
"Kathleen, don't be angry, dear; but I can not give it up so
easily," he began. "If I thought you did not love me, if I believed
you cared for Teddy Darrell, I would not say another word.
But--if--I--were--free--you--would love me again, would you not, my
dear one?"
Kathleen had been fighting down the weakness of her loving heart. She
looked at him with sad, hopeless eyes.
"Spare me!" she sighed. "Oh, Ralph, we must not count on what has been
or what may be. I am promised to another, and I can not break my vow.
Think of the suffering I should bring to Teddy's noble heart."
"He would soon forget you," Ralph Chainey urged.
"Then you may soon forget me, too," she replied.
"But, Kathleen, my darling, it is so different. I love only you, while
your Teddy has had scores of loves. Think, if you marry him, his fickle
heart may soon tire of you; then how wretched you would be!"
"I do not believe that Teddy is fickle. If I thought so, I would beg
him to release me from my promise. But he loves me truly, in spite of
his past, and so I must be true to him," sadly replied Kathleen.
"And your marriage day is set?" he asked, gloomily.
"It is only two weeks from now," she replied; then her courage failed
her; she burst into tears, and sobbed miserably against his shoulder.
Ralph tried to soothe her, whispering:
"If he knew you cared like this--for--me--he would not want to marry
you. No true lover would accept the hand without the heart."
"He must never know--for--I--I--shall learn to love him by and by. Mrs.
Stone says so; they all say so," she whispered.
"They are driving you into a--a--a wretched future with their silly
advice!" cried the young man, violently, despair goading him to
desperation. He pushed her from him and rose to his feet.
"I have been deluding myself," he said, bitterly. "I thought you loved
me. I was mistaken, I see. I will never humble myself to you again,
proud Kathleen. From this moment to my life's end, we are strangers.
Farewell!" and with a stately bow he was gone.
Kathleen sprung to her feet with wild despair at her loss.
"Oh, Ralph! come back!" she cried, faintly; but he was beyond the reach
of her voice.
She threw herself weeping into the chair where he had sat but just now.
"Gone--and forever!" she sobbed in bitterest agony, and there came over
her a longing to die and be at rest from her sorrow. Life seemed too
bitter to be borne, now that the last hope had failed, and Ralph had
gone from her "forever."