Dora Russell

“ Unconsciously almost to himself he had begun to hope that some day he would win May Churchill for his wife; that some day she might return his love. He was not a man to love lightly, nor one to change. His feelings were characteristic, strong, and undivided; his life high-toned and pure. Until he had seen May’s flower-like face he had loved no woman, and indeed scarcely had given the sex a thought. His profession, his career, had occupied his whole time, and he hardly knew that there lay a hidden fire in his breast, which had kindled and burst forth at the beauty of a country girl. ”

“ There was no longer any doubt in Ralph Webster’s mind after he had read this letter as to the identity of the John Temple who had married two women. But there was a doubt; a strange vivid doubt as to how he should act under such painful circumstances. Before him rose the sweet, girlish face of May Churchill, with her glad eyes and quiet happiness; and then he thought of the change this cruel news would bring. The light would fade from her eyes, and the color from her smooth cheeks, and a crushing sense of shame and sorrow overshadow her young life. ”

“ These words seemed like an epitaph on her life’s happiness. She knew it was all over, and that the young man to whom she had given so much was weary of her; weary of the frail bondage by which she held him.
And, in truth, never was man more weary. Young Henderson’s face was black as night as he strode on after he had left the girl he called Elsie. She was a chain around his neck, an intolerable burden, from which he could see no way to free himself.
And yet he must be free! Margaret Churchill’s lovely face rose before him as he passed down the fields of waving corn. ”

“ Again May Churchill laughed. She stood there a picture of youth and beauty; a girl in the prime of her girlhood, and conscious perhaps that John Temple’s gray eyes were fixed admiringly on her lovely face.
“Yes,” he repeated, “that will really be very sad. Age makes no matter to ordinary-looking people, you know, but to a flower—”
“When shall I begin to wither?” asked May, archly.
“Oh! do not speak of it! And yet,” he continued more seriously, still looking at May, “there are some faces that must always be beautiful; some eyes that can never grow dim.” ”

“ I can not go, I can not go!” moaned May.
“You must,” said Webster; “do you think I would leave you alone in the miserable, desperate state you are in? I do not ask you to go back to Pembridge Terrace, or to see your father or Mr. Temple; all I ask you to do is to come with me, and I will take the best care of you that I can.”
“And—and you will tell no one where I am?”
“I solemnly promise I will tell no one where you are, if in return you will promise to do nothing rash. Miss Churchill, no man is worth it,” he added, half bitterly. “But come, now, let us go back to the cab.” ”

“ Not in riotous living he told himself, for John Temple’s features bore no marks of dissipation nor sin. His eyes were clear and resolute, his whole bearing that of a man who had led at least a fairly good life.
“He looks honest,” thought the squire, and then he sighed, thinking of his dead boy, and all the fond hopes which lay buried in his untimely grave.
“I might tire of it,” answered John, smiling in reply to his uncle’s question, “if I never had any change, for I think we all want change. It is human nature, part of our heritage, to desire it.” ”

“ The squire died in the early spring-time, and the news reached Woodside in less than an hour after Mrs. Temple had found her husband dead. It naturally threw Mr. Churchill, and even his wife, into a state of excitement.
“Now, we must hear from them!” cried Mr. Churchill.
“We will know the truth at last,” said Mrs. Churchill, in a more subdued tone.
“What truth?” answered her husband, sharply. “They were married, and now Mr. John Temple is the squire of Woodlea, and May is his wife—but all the same, I am sorry to hear the old squire has passed away.” ”

“ Churchill. They were each thinking of their treasures, and all their stepmother’s shafts fell harmless.
May was up betimes the next morning; up to watch the rosy clouds in the west heralding in the day, and the sun rise over the green meadows and the yellow fields of ripening corn. It was a beautiful morning, but would it keep fine, May asked herself anxiously again and again, as she stood there gazing out on the misty blue sky. If it rained it might prevent her stepmother starting on her expedition; it might prevent her own meeting with John Temple. ”

“ Do you often come here, Miss Churchill?”
“Yes, very often; it’s a nice walk from home.”
“And you read here. May I ask what you were reading when I interrupted you?”
“A novel, of course,” answered the Mayflower, with a blush.
“Yes, of course; that is only natural.”
The Mayflower looked quickly down at the good-looking brown face raised to hers, as John Temple said this, for something in his tone made her think he was amusing himself at her expense.
“Yes, it is only natural,” she answered, with a spirit; “I like to read of lives that I suppose are very often drawn from life.” ”

“ Ralph Webster drew a long breath.
“What is he like, I may have seen him?” he asked.
“Like? Good-looking, with gray eyes and a very taking manner when he chose. But to me he was often eminently disagreeable.”
“And you do not know where he is now?”
“Not in the very least; abroad most likely, for the sunny south suited his pleasure-loving nature best. He had no energy, and I hate men without it. Men are born to fight in the battle of life, but John Temple stood smiling at it; he will never succeed in anything, and I love success.” ”

“ Feelings are strange and subtle, and creep in unawares to the human heart. They only both felt very happy, and the world seemed very bright. Bright to them, and dark and black to jealous eyes watching them from the higher ground above.
These jealous, fiery brown eyes were those of young Henderson of Stourton Grange. He had hoped to meet May Churchill during the afternoon in Fern Dene, as she often went there, and to his rage, when he arrived at the crest of the hill above the Dene, he saw May again with John Temple. ”

“ He read her long letter twice, and then put it into his pocket, and going into the hall, took a cap from the hat-stand, and strolled out into the park. The mist lay on the dewy grass and floated in the air, blurring the landscape somewhat, and hanging shadow-like around the trees. But John Temple scarcely noticed the atmosphere. He was trying to unravel some of the problems of his life; to make a crooked path straight for the sake of his young love.
“But for May I should not mind,” he was thinking, “but I must shield May; she must never know.” ”

“ Ralph Webster laughed a low, soft laugh.
“We are forced to hide our thoughts and feelings sometimes,” he said.
“Do you know I could imagine your doing that with a very strong curb,” went on Kathleen Weir, fixing her large gray eyes on Webster’s face. “I can fancy you crushing down your strongest feelings and putting your heel on them allegorically. You have a strong will power.”
“I am not so sure of that.”
“Oh! yes, you have! If you were in love with a woman, and did not mean to tell her so, you would go away from her, and not flutter around the flame like a weaker man would do.” ”

“ Tom Henderson had left the Mayflower with John Temple in Fern Dene, he walked onward with a frowning brow and an angry heart. He was in love with the pretty girl he had just seen sitting with another man lying at her feet; in love with her, and jealous of her very words, and moreover he knew who this other man was.
He had seen John Temple at poor young Phil Temple’s funeral the day before, and knew therefore that this good-looking, pleasant-tongued man was the new heir of Woodlea. ”

“ Webster noticed that May was agitated, and suddenly her delicate skin flushed, and with quivering lips she asked him a question:
[Pg 312]
“Have you,” she said, in a broken voice, “seen or heard anything of—him?”
Webster hesitated, but he saw it was only cruel to prolong her suspense.
“I have heard nothing,” he answered, “of Mr. Temple; except I know a person who saw him one day.”
“Then he is still in London!” cried May, with deep emotion; “still—he must have made inquiries—he—he was sure to make inquiries—but no doubt he believes me dead. It is best that he should believe me dead!” ”

“ He had just watched the departure of Henderson and his groom, and he believed now that Henderson had, to say the least of it, been the cause of Elsie’s death. He had read the insulting letter the young man had sent her, and with his own tongue he had acknowledged there had been “some talk of a marriage” between them. Deceived and betrayed, the poor girl might have put an end to her own life. But not less did James Wray consider him Elsie’s murderer, and he was vowing vengeance in his heart when May Churchill, with her flower-like face, drew near him and placed her small hand timidly in his. ”

“ She caught up some trifle, and then hurried down to her daughter’s bedroom.
“Rachel!” she cried, “that Churchill has arrived; you must rouse yourself, and lock up all the jewels and silver, or they will be laying hands on everything.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” answered Mrs. Temple, coldly.
“What, you’ll let them have the diamonds!” screamed Mrs. Layton, in absolute despair.
“The diamonds are heirlooms, so I suppose John Temple’s wife—if he has one—has a right to wear them,” answered Mrs. Temple, contemptuously. “I will have nothing touched until John Temple arrives.” ”

“ We find this out when it is too late, and we blame the unfortunate recipient of our deluded affections, not our own folly in being deluded.”
“Well, I believe in love,” answered Dereham, sturdily.
“Long may you believe in it, then,” said Kathleen, with a light laugh. “But, Dereham, you won’t. You too will wake up and find your idol shattered.”
“How spiteful you are, Kathleen!” remarked Linda Falconer, calmly. “Have you had a disappointment in love lately?”
“No, my dear, for I have not been in love. I love myself too well to waste my affections on an ungrateful man.” ”

“ But scarcely had the door of the room closed behind him when a great change came over May’s face. There came over it despair—blank, bitter despair. She sat up and thought. She put her hand to her brow.
“I can not bear it,” she said, half-aloud; “it is too hard to bear.”
She remembered all her sweet love-dream in these brief moments; remembered John Temple standing with her in the moonlit garden of Woodside; remembered his looks, the touch of his dear hand! And it had been all folly! He, the husband of another woman, must have known she could never be his wife. He had been amusing himself ”

“ Temple lit a cigarette, and sat down on a rustic stile. The whole scene was so rural it half-amused John. The hayfield near; the cows standing in another field beneath some trees for shelter from the sun; the distant gurgle of a brook.
“It only wants the pretty milkmaid,” thought John, with a smile.
This idea had scarcely crossed his mind when he saw advancing down the lane the same girl in the white frock that he had seen by his young cousin’s grave. She was gathering the roses from the hedge rows, and placing them in a small basket whenever she saw one that struck her fancy. ”

“ REMORSE.
After John Temple had left May he drove straight to Pembridge Terrace, feeling that the worst of a most painful day was over. At all events May would not [Pg 279] leave him, and in another country they would both forget the past.
“And who knows what may happen?” he thought. “That woman,” and his brow darkened, “is not likely to lead, or to go on leading, an immaculate life. I may be able to get a divorce, and the moment I can I will marry May. My dear little May, if I have wronged you, it was because I loved you so well.” ”

“ It is a tough heart, and a man’s inconstancy and changeableness will never even make a crack in it. For me to love and grieve now,” and she looked at him straight, “a man must be worth loving and grieving for.”
“What is the bargain that you want to make, then?” asked John Temple, impatiently, a moment later.
“It is this: You are a rich man now, and I am your wife, so I ought to be a rich woman also. I have a right, you know, to come here if I choose; to claim you before your new friends; in fact, to make myself generally disagreeable. ”

“ But May Churchill never thought of him. Her whole mind was taken up with one idea. “John is coming to-day; John is coming!”
The thought made her go singing about the house; it deepened the lovely rose-bloom on her cheeks, and made her eyes shine like stars.
“She is beautiful,” whispered Aunt Eliza to Aunt Margaret, when the girl came down dressed for dinner in her white frock, with moss-rose buds at her breast and throat.
John Temple was expected a little before seven o’clock, and a little after seven o’clock he came. ”