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Show 1 ' f MD The Eternal Fire. '11 A Tale of a Woman's Determination. fl The guests had gone and Mrs. French awaited her daughter's coming with trepidation. She was voung to be the mother of a person so wiFe and so complete, and she had lost, of late, even the fragile authority once her own. Mr. French had never been sufficiently upon the domestic scene to exert any, and the perturbed mother did not really know what mental processes took place behind Alice's cool, brown eyes. She had tried in a hundred delicate ways to make her influence influ-ence felt, to suggest her own dominant ideas and ideals, but she was completely in the dark as to the effectiveness of her efforts. She looked upon the magnificence about her, upon the tremendously tremen-dously insistent allurements of wealth upon all S that symbolized to her the lost battle of her spirit. If she could help Alice to overcome all that, to attain a human independence, in a word to marry Professor Treniiolm, she would feel that she had fought the fight of her inmost faith not H entirely in vain. H It was almost night before Alice came in, dressed for dinner. Mrs. French looked vainly for any sign of emotion in her daughter's face and decided that the conflict if conflict was neces- bary had been delayed. She was quickly disil- lusioned by her daughter's clear voice. "Trenholm asked me to marry him this after-H after-H noon." Mrs. French clasped her hands before her and H leaned forward. "Yes, Alice, yes?" "Well, dear, that's all. You know the diffii- culties. Pie appeals to me, oh, a good deal." "You told him that?" "Of course. I told him how different he was from all the others the motor animals and""the golf animals, and the five o'clock tea dummies, but I was honest and told him we couldn't live on his salary. I admire classical philology, but H not as a business proposition." Mrs. Fiench closed her eyes for a minute. She felt that a supreme hour had come for her one by whose result she would forever judge her life. She tried to marshal all the forces of her sout, to vivify the memories of her twenty years of mar- lied life, to command the culminant emotion with which the great occasion should be filled. When she opened her eyes again they met the curious gaze of her daughter's. H "Well, mamma?" "It takes courage to be poor, no doubt." "Ah, that's just it." "But, believe me, it takes a higher courage to H be rich as wo are." H "I don't quite see." Alice looked puzzled. "Don't you?" Mrs. French arose and "stood facing her daughter. "Don't you? Well, I have H btniggled against the enervation of it, the mis- eiy of it, year after year. It's taken all my little strength not to go under quite, not to become dc-ad in mind and in soul. It's left me no strength to protest even against all the final in- suits thnt can be offered to a woman. Your fa-H fa-H ther " "Spare me the details." The girl interrupted r. "I understand." H "You?" "One has eyes; and one can suspect." Alice slugged her shoulders. "But I don't see how money entered the question." "It did. I couldn't protest; I couldn't plaim my rights, because I didn't dare to go. I've got up morning after morning with the determination D jo make an end and every time, like a craven, I holU my tongue and pretended not to see. I couldn't leave it all, I couldn't do with "less. -I needed the servants and the ceremonies, the ease and luxury. They had sapped the strength of me, body and soul. It's too late now for me to rebel, but you you can gain freedom yet." The girl's eyes had grown earnest. "I'm not so sure, mamma. Suppose one had no maid; it would be an awful bother about clothes and things. Suppose one hadn't a motor or a carriage, it isn't nice in the street cars. And I think, don't you see, that those annoyances wouldn't end, they'd be with me every day." "Every day? So are these fetters of gold; so is this slavery this shame." "But isn't it possible," Alice asked, "to be comfortable com-fortable and decent?" "Perhaps, though it isn't frequently seen. I've tried not to judge the men harshly. They're immersed im-mersed in work, very often, that gives no play to the finer faculties; unlimited money gives them unlimited opportunities. No, I don't judge them, but I want to save you." She fell silent and Alice did not answer. Tho two women looked at each other with eyes that were "still half-estranged. "Are you quite sure, mama," Alice arose, "that father would not give me an allowance?" "Quite sure. I've sounded him. You know that I possess no influence. He laughed at the very idea of your marrying a 'prig.' He says that since you can so easily marry millions it would be good money thrown away to give you an allowance." al-lowance." The girl turned pale. It was the first sign of emotion that broke through the even surface of her careful personality. "I had hoped" she said in a shaking voice. Her mother grasped the opportunity. "So you do love Trenholm?" The young shoulders twitched as Alice forced back a sob. "J'm afraid so." Mrs. French took her daughter's hand. "Dear," she said, "I will make a supremo effort. ef-fort. If it succeeds you will get an allowance; if it fails you must still marry Rupert. Will you abide by the event?" Alice loaned against the table near her with both hands. Her head was turned away, but in a mirror opposite Mrs. French could see the brown eyes of her daughter soften and dream and yearn. "Yes, mother, I will abide by it." II. Mrs. French prepared her great dinner in honor of Alice's birthday with an almost morbid care for every detail. Cold shivers ran down her back whenever she permitted herself to contemplate contem-plate her plan in its naked boldness and simplicity. sim-plicity. She selected the guests with hesitation. She announced, as unobtrusively as possible, that the dinner would bo rendered attractive neither by freakish luxury nor by a debauch of expensive music. Sho did not seek to disguise the fact that a surprise awaited the guests, but she did not neglect to indicate that it would not be material in its nature. Sho communicated to her wise old friend Courtland the torms of her needs and know that neither his auction nor his skill would fail her now. The day before the great event she found herself her-self worn out. So far everything had gone well. But her head ached violently. In the dreams of the night sho saw her husband's face with the indomitable av in a hundred menacing aspects; when morning came despair sat by her. His vio- fiS5Kfi5SEfi5fiS523S&S lence, his recklessness had never known a limit; M would they know any now? Would he hesitate tp flfl shame and disavow her and her actions in her own house? She felt that she must resolutely let I her mind dwell upon details throughout the day, fl that she must really neither think nor feel. She jl superintended certain preparations herself, rest- 'Jg ed during the afternoon in a dark room and then rm dressed. She put on a black gown that gave her 1 figure an effect of fragile tallness; she noted j that her eyes glowed as in a fever, that on her J cheeks the coloring was almost hectic. She put 1 a little carmine on her lips; instead of jewels she i chose white flowers in her corsage and one in T her dark hair. ' The table at dinner was brilliant, the mood among the guests of a subdued gaiety. Mrs. French had a sense that was overwhelming of the unreality of all things. The crystal goblets glittered, glit-tered, the wine sparkled, the silver gleamed and the white flowers shone with the unnatural brightness of a fevered dream. She heard herself I speak and laugh as from afar and felt that she was guiding perfectly the spirit of the occasion. i She looked across the board and saw that Mr. 1 French was in a mellow mood, that Alice and Trenholm, though separated by the breadth of the table, looked at each other often and earnestly. Tn the same dreamlike stato she heard Courtland adroitly lead the conversation to graver issues. The question of the responsibility of the rich came up, apparently by accident. Voorhaesen, the railroad rail-road king, prosed in a heaVy bass voice. He rec- ognized no responsibility of an esoteric kind; he I gave the public railways and the public paid him f' for that service. Any other point of view wa& & sentimental. A dapper gentleman with aged eyes 3 and wonderfully brown hair suggested that the more luxurious one's way of life the moi;o one did y for the lower classes. The talk hummed, tho glasses clinked. At last Courtland spoke again. ;i "But haven't we," sho heard him say, "be- I sides these external duties, certain duties toward . , ourselves? I'm often reminded in this connection 1 of a very significant story I once heard. It seoma J that somewhere in tho fabled east there is 'a j small tribe of very fanatical firs-worshipers which $ keops from generation to generation upon its cen- jg tral altar an undying fire. But once it happened A that fierce enemies from various sides pressed ujpon this tribe, so that not only its warriors, but y youths and aged men had to go forth to battle. ' After a long and bitter conflict tho enemies wero in the dust; the men returned homo, only to la- h ment the sure vengeance upon them of all tho j gods, for the women who had been left behind f had neglected the altar and let die tho eternal & fiie." He ceased, and a hush, almost of solemnity, jg fell upon the guests. No sound was heard for a jj minute except Mr. French's heavy breathing. J Then Mrs. French leaned forward. Instantly all - eyes were turned to her, and instantly tho dream- iness passed for her from all things. Sho now ? saw with startling clarity; the drought loft hor throat; the hand in which sho held her full glass ceased to tremble. Her voice, as sho spoke, i though soft, seemed to take on richness and vi- 1 brant power. "Dear friends, I think that Mr. Courtland " js 1 spoken very truly and beautifully, and I shou.d like to add a few words to what he has said, bo- I cause, as you will see in a moment, it seems to J have a very special meaning for me, and mino j tonight. I have often thought that we who mold, ' j Continued on Puge 13 I m WiiBBiMMMMMMBidMMHiTIWiMWtlMgMMM H ""Continued from Page 5 H or help to mold, the material world, and draw for I our labor a reward so terribly heavy I have of ten thought that we, through the very multitude of occasions, are often lacking in the grace to tend in our own hearts the flame of purer desires. Perhaps I am in this respect weaker than you, my friends, and yet I do not think so. But this I know; that through many years I have had a hard struggle to look upon life constantly from another than the material side, to judge the world and man in the light of nobler issues, to preserve pre-serve to myself entrance to that temple which poets and dreamers and wise men have in all ages built to be the endurance home of the spirit of man. And if this is true of me, and, in a measure, meas-ure, of us all, it should, I think, fill us with a grave joy if one of our number elects to dwell entirely in that temple far from the noise, the allurements, the burdens of our world." She ceased for a moment and raised her glass. "Such a one is our daughter Alice, who with her future fu-ture husband, Professor Rupert Trenholm will be enabled to tend, with hands more consecrated, the altar of the Eternal Fire." I The applause broke as she finished, exhausted. It rose and fell and rose again. But Mrs. French saw only the crimson face of her husband, heard only the stridest voice that cut short the tumult. He had struggled to his feet and, fiercely pushing away the detaining hands of friends, stood over her. "Do you think that this damned scheme will help you? Do you think that I'm going to be browbeaten into giving my consent to tills absurd ab-surd marriage? Sentimental scenes don't affect me. If you and your daughter prefer the eternal fire you can go after it, and it'll be money in my pocket!" Only the first few words reached Mrs. French. She leaned back in her chair, growing painter and fainter and fainter. Then she lost consciousness. conscious-ness. III. The next morning she was confronted in hei-dressing hei-dressing room by her husband. He looked pale and flabby; his large bulk had been shaken by some unwonted emotion. "Well," he said, "I suppose we ought to have an explanation." "Is any explanation possible?" she asked. "About this marriage" he began. "There is nothing more to say. It will take place and I will live with my children." "The devil you will!" burst from him. "You understand, naturally, that I was angry last night. I'd been drinking, too, and of course you provoked a scene." "It is the first scene that I ever provoked and, I assure you, it will be the last." "And you're quite sure that Alice consents to this business?" "Quite. The child came to me in the night. She understands that I cannot stay here." "I don't see why." "Is it necessary that you should? Haven't we been strangers for years? I fail to understand this sudden interest." The words expressed the hardness that had, during the night, grown over her passionate resentment re-sentment of other days. It seemed to her that this man had simply ceased to concern her; nor had it for a moment occurred to her that he would object to the dissolution of their so formal union. She was merely irritated now by his presence and his useless speeches. But he was evidently determined not to leave her to her reflections re-flections and preparations. He crossed his legs. "Sudden interest? Upon my word! We're married, mar-ried, you know." "After a fashion." 'After a fashion. That's right. And whose fault is it. I'd like to know. I've done all that was required of me. I've footed the bills. Now for the first time I. balk at footing a bill and the whole business is to fly sky-high." "True, you have paid, and, in addition, you have insulted my wifehood daily and hourly." The big man's lip fell in utter astonishment as he heard his wife's tone. "And you mean to tell me, Beatrice, that you resented it, that you cared?" "Iam a woman,." she answered, "and a wife." "Then why in the world didn't you speak out?" "What was the use? It would have altered nothing." "You're wrong, dead wrong! It would have altered everything. You made me look like such a fool and brute with your high-flown ways and your highfalutln friends; you treated me so constantly con-stantly as a necessary evil, a mere money-bag, that I- began to drink and the rest to arouse H ydu, to bring you to your senses through anger, H through jealousy, through anything! Then when k it seemed you didn't give a continental so long as H the money kept coming, I continued for my own H amusement." H She winced at his speech. Perhaps it was a 9H baseness in her, she reflected, to shudder even at H this moment at the external vulgarity and crudity HH of his speech. The esthetic tastes had certainly H not helped her in the building of her life, but she H knew that these perceptions of hers and their in- Cfl fluence were ineradicable. j 9 "I am afraid, William, she said, "that it's 9 too late for us to change, too late for us to botch 9 up our lives; that's over and done with. But ir M you have any feeling for me, let that feeling plead $8 for Alice now." m His face grew sullen. 1 "In what way?" M "Save her from my fate, and such a husband (m as you would choose for her from yours." $ "You mean let her marry Trenholm and give Jpg her an income." WM "Yes, William." "Well, and if I consent, Beatrice, would you I '' mind dotting your aureole and condescending, 1 . once in a while, to my common point of view?" 1 "You promise to consent?" 1 "On that condition, Beatrice." i He came a step nearer; she hesitated, and then, with a feeling of victory in her heart, submitted sub-mitted to the penalty of his caress. Ludwig Lewisohn |