Love can conquer pride

Front matter

Shelf L.

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

t iN.‘V

Chapter I

“ So your answer is final? Yo.u*prize money more highly than you do the pure, unselfish love I have lavished upon you? I suppose I should thank God that I have been spared the fate .of having such a wife ; for, when a woman stoops so low as to sell her heart for gold, she is not worthy of the love of any man. Silvia, you did not used to be so cold and proud; what has changed you? Oh, my darling, reconsider your answer and be true to your own heart. Come with me, and I will make up for the absence of wealth with love and tenderness. What would money be worth to you, my darling, without happiness? for there can be no happiness without love.” Elmo Vane’s face was pale as death as he ceased speaking, and held out his arms to Silvia Carlton imploringly. He was one of nature’s noblemen, with eyes of the darkest blue — eyes that any one could trust; a high, noble forehead, over which clustered a wreath of brown, curly hair; a mouth small and sen'sitive as a woman’s.

He belonged to one of the best families in the county. The Vanes had been noted, for generations, for their chivalry and pride. His father had been very

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wealthy; but, like others, he speculated and lost all. When the news came that he was ruined, he became paralyzed and lived only a few short hours. He died, leaving Elmo with nothing except an untarnished name.

Having gone to Silvia Carlton, the one love of his life, he had told her all, and asked her to be his wife. Not then, but in a few years when he should have made enough to buy the old home back. But her answer had been so cold and cruel ! She had told him coldly and calmly that she could never be a poor man’s wife.

Silvia Carlton was as beautiful as a dream. She was tall and graceful as a queen. Her eyes were like twin stars. They were of that dark brown that belong only to the daughters of the Sunny South. The expression of her eyes varied with her moods. When excited or angry, they were black as midnight. When peaceful, they were soft and tender as could be. Her hair was a beautiful golden brown that was like spun gold in the sunlight. A dainty little mouth that was a little too proud mayhaps, but beautiful and tender for all that.

When she smiled, all the pride vanished, and she was irresistible. As she stood there under the shade of the tall trees and listened to the words of Elmo Vane, that lovely August day, all the pride was gone ; nothing remained but tenderness and love. For she loved him with that love that only a dark-eyed, pas-.

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sionate woman can love — with a love that comes once in a life-time. She raised her sweet, brown eyes to his face, and answered gently :

“Nay, dear, do not tempt me. I could never be content to be a poor man’s wife. Ah, my love, do not think that I do not suffer ; when I have said goodby to you I shall have said good-by to all that I hold dear in life. If I listened to the pleadings of my heart I would be your wife ; but I shall not do that, dear, for I am tired of poverty, and when I go to the altar it must be by the side of a man with houses and lands, for they are the things that count and that last. You know the old adage, ‘When poverty comes in the door, love flies through the window,’ and I fear our case would be no e'xception.”

“ I suppose, then, when Douglas Sinclair asks you to be his wife, you will say ‘yes?’ ” he asked slowly.

“You have no right to question me so,” she answered proudly. Then, seeing his sad face, she repented her harshness and added : “ Yes, when he does me the honor of asking me to be his wife, I will answer ‘yes.’”

“Do you suppose if he knew your sentiments he would marry you? It seems like a pity to see a man deceived so easily,” he said.

“No, I suppose not,” she answered. “May be you deem it your duty to go and explain my motive to him ; then he would not ask me to be his wife, and you would have the sweet consolation of knowing

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that you had saved me from ruin.” There is a touch of scorn in her voice. ^

“ Silvia, I thought you knew me better than to think me capable of such a cowardly act. However low I may be in your estimation, I am at least a gen- , tleman,” he answered proudly.

“ Do you know, Elmo, how we used to play, and quarrel, and make up? We are older now; let us not quarrel. Let us at least part as friends. It may be years before we meet again, and I wish to remember Uiat we were friends to the last,” she said sadly.

“ No, Silvia, I have no desire to quarrel with you ; but as to friendship between you and I, that can never be. I asked for bread, and you gave me a stone. When you and I part to-day, we part as strangers and forever. Miss Carlton, may I wish you joy? When we meet again you will be Mrs. Sinclair, the leader of society ; and I would have you understand, Silvia Carlton, that the man you were too proud to marry will be too proud to be friends with Douglas Sinclair’s wife.” The pain in his voice was terrible. She goes up to him and, placing one beautiful hand on his arm; looks up into his angry blue eyes and says gently :

“ Listen, Elmo ; I do not ask^ou to be friends with Douglas Sinclair’s wife. I only ask you to speak kindly to your old playmate and friend. Do not make my lot harder to bear. It is best that we should part, dear. It is not that I am too proud to marry

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you, but it is because I am afraid to face poverty, even with you — the one that I love better than my own life. Let us part as friends. Let me wish you God-speed upon your journey, and sometimes when you are far away in your western home think of me — not bitterly but sorrowfully. My lot is harder to bear than yours, in that I have to send you from me. Will you not forgive me, dear, and try to think kindly of me?” she asked pleadingly.

“No,” he answered slowly; do you think I am presumptuous enough to think that you love me? You are a cold, heartless flirt. If it was your intention to win my love and break my heart, I must ask you to allow me the privilege of congratulating you upon your success. For I have loved — nay, do love you — with all my heart, and you can say truthfully that you have broken one man’s heart and ruined his life. I could almost curse the day I met you.”

“ Elmo,” she pleaded sadly.

“ Forgive me, Silvia,” he said gently. “ I do not mean that, for the happiest hours of my life have been spent with you. Forgive my hard, bitter words ; for, as you say, we will soon be far apartf^and we will at least part as friends for the sake of old times.” He held out his hand to her, and said :

“Good-by, my little brown-eyed sweetheart; we part now, it may be for years, it may be forever ; but of one thing be assured — I shall hope that you will be happy, and that the dearest dream of your life may

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be realized — that of being wealthy. Take care, my dear, that you do not find it all an empty dream.’’

“ Good by, Elmo,” she said simply. “ May God bless you, and may you be successful in your new home. I shall pray for you, wherever you may be.”

So they parted, he to try his fortune in the golden west, she to crush her heart and marry for gold. Do not judge her too harshly, gentle reader. She is not wholly bad. Deep down in her .heart she despises herself for selling her heart for gold, but she cannot face poverty. Ah ! you who have been reared in the lap of luxury can blame her, for you have never had to toil from morning till night for your daily bread.. But those who have had her sad experience can sympathize with her, and not blame her too much.

She had only done as thousands of others have done — sacrificed love for wealth. She loved Elmo Vane with her whole heart, and as he left her she went up to her room, and, falling upon her knees, she prayed that she might be strong enough to bear her loss. As she rose from her knees she raised her eyes, and they fell upon his pictured face, and there seemed to be a look of reproach in the blue eyes as they gazed at her. A cry of agony came from the white lips, and she cried out, “ Oh, my love, how can I live without you? What have I done? Why did I send you from me? You think me cold and heartless, while all the time my heart is slowly breaking for love of you.” She suffered until it seemed as if reason itself would

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desert its throne. She walked the floor and wrung her hands until the weary limbs refused to support the body, and she sank upon the floor in a deathly swoon. There they found her an hour after. When consciousness was restored she asked to be left alone, saying she was not well and the heat of the room had made her faint. Let us leave her now, and visit the home of Douglas Sinclair.

Chapter II

Quite different is this home from the one in which we left Silvia Carlton. Picture to yourself a palatial residence on the most fashionable street in the city. The interior is one perfect gem of art and elegance. We will not pause to gaze in the elegantly furnished rooms, but will hasten up the broad, oaken staircase, and enter a room to the left. This is the room that the master of this palatial home occupies. It is one in which is combined all the beauty and comfort that can be purchased with gold.

In this room sits Douglas Sinclair to-night. He is a very handsome man. His hair is as black as midnight, and two or three stray curls fall over a high, noble forehead. His eyes are a beautiful, clear gray. The lines around the handsome mouth and chin denote more of weakness than strength. He is the only son of a wealthy mother. His father having died when he was quite a child, he had been raised by an indulgent mother and had never had a wish ungratified. There is a decided frown on his handsome face to-night, as if his thoughts were not pleasant. He is thinking of his mother and her pride. He is wondering what she will say when he tells her of his love for Silvia Carlton. He knows whatever she may say cannot change his love ; for he is madly, devotedly in love with her. He knows that she is proud, and that her pride will suffer terribly when she knows that her only son is going to marry a girl who works for her daily bread.

He knows also that, although poor, Silvia Carlton’s name is as good as his, and that she is as proud as he or his haughty mother. Although circumstances have forced her to work, she is every inch a lady and is a thousand times more beautiful than many of the belles of society. As he sits there thinking of all this he hears a gentle tap on the door, and, hastening to open it, finds his mother there.

Why, mother,” he says fondly, “ what have I to thank for this visit? Sit here in this comfortable chair, and allow me to sit here at your feet as I used to long ago. You have not visited my ‘den’ for a good long while.”

“Yes, dear, I will sit down, for lhave much to say to you on a subject which has been on my mind for a long time. My son, why do you not marry? That is the one cloud in my happiness. There are so many beautiful girls that I hardly see how you can help admiring some of them.” She paused, as though waiting for him to answer ; then goes on : “ Do you realize that you are getting old? You are nearly twenty-seven,” she says sadly. “ Do you not think it time you were bringing home a bride?”

“Yes, mother, I was thinking of that when you came. I have decided to marry — that is, if the girl

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I love will accept me. Mother, I have always been considered a brave man, but I confess I am afraid to ask her to be my wife ; for I love her more than life,, and if she refuses me I shall have lost all interest in life, and shall go down to my grave unwedded.^’

She bends her proud head and kisses him fondly^ as she asks, “Who could refuse my bonny boy? My dear, tell me who she is, that I may know if I am to be pleased with my daughter. But your choice could not do otherwise than please me,’^ she said gently.

“Mother, may God bless you for those words. They give me hope ; for I had feared you would not be pleased,’’ he said joyfully.

One of the servants came to the door and said a gentleman wished to see him, so their interview ended. Perhaps it would have been best for him, and best for all, if he had told her whom he loved. But it was not to be so, for fate was weaving a web in which to entangle him ; and so he went on blindly to hisdoom.

Silvia Carlton makes a beautiful picture, as she stands in her little flower garden on this lovely day. She is dressed in some soft, clinging goods that falls in graceful folds, showing every curve in the perfect figure. Baby blue is exceedingly becoming to her, and the broad ribbon which encircles the slender waist seems to add new grace to the figure. There are dark shadows around the eyes, that tell of sleepless nights and passionate tears. Her face is pale, but she looks very lovely to-day ; so thinks Douglas Sinclair, as he sees her standing there under the lilac bushes. He takes off his hat and speaks to her, ere she is aware of his presence.

“ Good evening, Miss Silvia ; am I intruding? I have something to say to you ; and, finding you alone in your little garden, I have taken advantage of the opportunity of speaking to you on a subject that is very dear to me. Do you not guess what it is, dear?” he asks. Then, before she can answer, he goes on : ‘‘ Silvia, I love you and want you to be my wife. I know I am not half worthy of you, my darling ; I know you are as high above me as the heavens are above the earth ; but I love you, and will try and make you happy. To study your happiness will bo the one aim of my life. Will you not come, my lover and help to cheer my life? Answer me, sweet ; will you be my wife?” His voice is full of passion, and his face is very pale as he awaits her answer.

Soft blushes dye her cheeks, and make her a thousand times fairer than before. Her head is bent shyly, and her voice trembles slightly as she answers :

“You surprise me, Mr. Sinclair. I had never dreamed you loved me. I hardly know how to answer, for it seems impossible that anyone could love poor little me. Are you really in earnest?” She looks up at him coquettishly as she asks this. She has known for a long time that he loved her, but she

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was a perfect actress, and it behooved her to play her part well.

“ Do I really want you? Oh, my darling, if you really knew how I love you ! I love you dearer than life. Without you life would be an empty dream.”

Taking one of her white hands in his, he continued : “ I think I loved you from the first hour I saw you. Look up, darling, and tell me you will make me the happiest man on earth by whispering one little word in my ear.”

“ What is the word you would have me speak?” she asks coyly.

“ Say, ‘Yes, Douglas, I will be your wife,’ ” he says tenderly. She takes one step forward ; then, raising her eyes to his for an instant, she murmurs, “ Yes, I will be your wife.” He takes her in his arms, and kisses her face and eyes. As she whispers the words that seal her fate, her face loses all its brilliant color and leaves her deathly pale. She realizes then that she has indeed given up the one love of her life — for from this day she is bound to Douglas Sinclair for life. She knows there is no drawing back now; for she is the soul of honor, and would rather die than break her word. She knows now to even think of Elmo Vane is wrong, for she is the promised bride of another. She considers an engagement just as binding as though they were bound irrevocably by the marriage ceremony.

Would to God others would believe as she did!

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there would not be so many broken hearts in this fair sunny land of ours. There would not be so many wrecked lives, and so many lonely men and lonelier women. Silvia Carlton was not acting nobly when she gave up love for gold, but we can say all honor to her for her loyalty to her affianced husband and her word.

When she entered the house a magnificent diamond sparkled on her finger. Her hands were white as snow, and very small and beautiful. They were too small and tender to have to toil, and, as she gazed on them with the blazing ring on the left, she heaved a sigh of relief as she thought there would be no more hard work. She wondered if she had done wrong in throwing away love and accepting gold; and, as she thought of the cold, cruel world, with its rebuffs to the poor, she shuddered and thanked God she had accepted Douglas Sinclair. She wondered what his proud mother would say when he told her he was going to marry her, and she could not help but smile when she thought of the way the aristocratic world would pity him for his poor taste. As she thought of it her eyes filled with tears, and she thought how he must love her to select her from all the gay fashionable belles of society, as his bride. She felt the honor that he had conferred upon her, and appreciated it, and felt keen regret that she had no love to give him ; and she resolved that, although she could not love him, she could at least honor and revere him, and she would make his life as happy as possible.

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As she sat there all her past rose before her, and as she thought of the old home, far away among the hills, and of the loved ones who were in heaven, she wept bitter tears, and wondered if she would have sold her heart for gold if her mother had lived. She thought of that mother who had never complained, but had borne her lot patiently and cheerfully, and of the happy days they had spent in that happy home far away, until the first streaks of the gray dawn were visible ; then she threw herself upon her little bed and sobbed herself to sleep. Perhaps she would have been different if her mother had lived, for she had loved her mother more than most daughters love mother. She had almost worshiped her. It had been so easy to work when she had some one to work for ; but now there was no one but herself, and she was so tired of it all she wished she were dead and at rest under the weeping willow where her mother rested.

Ah, when we lose a mother’s love and counsel w.e lose all. So it had been with Silvia Carlton. She woke at eight o’clock with a heavy heart and aching head. She went for her usual walk, and the wind brought a faint tinge of color to her pale face, so that when an hour later Douglas Sinclair was announced she did not look quite so pale and deathly. He took her in his arms and kissed her, and told her how long the time had seemed since he left her, until it seemed as if he would never release her. She felt as if she

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must break loose from his encircling arms and fly to her room. At last he released her, and she asked : “ Have you told your mother of our engagement?”

“No,” he replied; “I have not had time. I shall tell her this evening, and bring her to see you to-morrow, if you will allow me.”

“ Oh, I shall be glad to see her,” she answered quietly. “Do you think she will like me?”

“ How could she help liking you, my love? She would love you for my sake, even if not for your own. Have no fears, for she will love you for your own sweet sake,” he sajd hurriedly.

Then, seeing that he was going to return to his lover-like phrases, she went up to him and laid one white hand on his arm and said : “ No, dear, we have had love enough for one day ; and if you wish I will sing to you. I think you have never heard me sing. What shall it be, a song of love, or war?” She asks this with one of her sweetest smil6s, knowing full well what his answer will be.

“ Of, love, dear ; for that is something of which I never tire.” He says this a little angrily, for no man likes to be told by the woman he loves that she is tired of love.

“ Are you angry with me for saying I was tired of love?” she asks innocently. “Is that what causes that ugly frown on your face?” As she says this she runs her fingers lightly through his dark, curly hair, and looks into his eyes as innocently as a little child.

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The frown vanishes as if by magic, and he smiles into her beautiful face as he answers, “ Who could be angry with you, my darling? Go and sing to me of love.”

Crossing the room, she takes up her guitar. She commences that plaintive melody that is as old as the hills, but is ever sad and sweet — “ Marguerite.” Then she sings it slowly and softly. As she sings he sits entranced. Never has he heard such a voice before, on the stage or off. She throws her whole soul into the song. She is not singing to him ; she is singing to her lost love, and as she sings the words,

I know the time will not be long,

When you^ll forget me Marguerite, her voice trembles slightly ; but with an effort she remembers to whom she is singing, and as the last words leave her lips she turns to him a face composed and smiling. “ I wonder if you would soon forget me if we were to be separated,” she says softly.

“ Silvia, you know I can never forget you; though miles of earth divide us and oceans roll between, I should love you just the same. Forget you? never! The moon may cease to illuminate the earth, the sun may forget to shine, the stars may fall, but my love for you will be as strong as now. But why speak of this, for we will never be separated? There is nothing that can separate us,” he replied.

“Not even the displeasure of your mother?” she questioned. And he thought he meant it when he answered her passionately :

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No, not even that. But she will not be displeased,” he goes on hurriedly. Then, glancing at his watch, he finds that he has barely time to reach home by dinner. She goes with him to the little rustic gate, and as he kisses her good-by he thinks there was never a woman one-half so beautiful as his brown-eyed darling. “Good-night, my love,” he murmurs fondly ;

I want to find more roses in your cheeks to-morrow when I come.” Then, coming back, he takes her white hand in his, and says : “ Darling, you have made me strangely nervous, talking about separation. Will you not grant me one ’request? I want you to place your lovely arms around my neck and kiss me, of your own free will. Will you not do this for me, dear? You have not kissed me once since you promised to be my wife.”

At first her face turns deadly pale ; then the color rushes back to her cheeks, and they are the color of the rosebuds that nestle so close to her white throat. She goes up to him and, laying her white arms around his neck, presses one kiss upon his noble forehead.

“Will that do, Douglas?” she murmurs. This is the first time she has called him by his name, and she buries her face on his bosom that he may not see her eyes, for she knows that there is no love-light shining in their depths for him.

“ My own love, my darling ; you have made me very happy.” And, snatching another kiss, he hurries home.

Chapter III

As Silvia Carlton turns and walks slowly towards the house, she hears some one calling her name; and, turning, she finds herself face to face with her bosom friend and confidant.

“How do you do, Inez?’’ she says; and, going up to her, she kisses her fondly. Then, taking her arm, they walk on to the house. “ It seems an age since I have seen you, Inez,” she says, as they enter the house. “ You shall spend the evening with me, now that you are here. We will go up to our room, where we can have a quiet time all by ourselves.”

“ That is just what I want, Silvia ; for I have much to say to you,” Inez replies hastily.

So they go up to the room which Silvia occupies ; and, throwing off her wraps, she draws a large, comfortable chair up to the window, sits down, and Silvia sits at her feet. Inez Wynter was a perfect blonde. Her eyes were just the color of the shy, drooping violets. Her hair fell in long, golden curls below her shapely waist. She possessed a complexion of dazzling whiteness. Her lips were like twin cherries, and when they parted in a smile they revealed two rows of pearly teeth. She was one of Dame Fortune’s favorites, for she was not only blessed with a wealth of beauty, but was one of the wealthiest heir-

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esses in the State. She was loved by all for her gentle manner and sweet smile. She and Silvia Carlton had been friends from childhood, and as the years flew by they only cemented their friendship more firmly. They loved each other as sisters. There is a look of stern resolution on her face to-night, as she looks at Silvia.

“What is it, Inez?” asks Silvia at length. “You look as if you were going to deliver one of those long, tiresome lectures of yours.”

“ I am thinking, dear, of what I have just heard ; and I have come to see if it were true. Rumor tells many false things.; and I hope for your sake, and others, she is wrong in this. Is it true that you are engaged to Douglas Sinclair? Are you going to marry him?” she asks.

“ Is that what you are looking so stern about? I thought you would be first to congratulate me upon my engagement. Yes, I am engaged to Douglas Sinclair, and if the fates are propitious I shall soon have the honor of being his bride. Will you not wish me joy, dear?” She looks up into her face, as she asks this, and smiles.