Frederick Schiller Faust

“ I have always felt that a man can teach a woman to love him.”
“Surely he can,” said Brent, “just as a fire can always teach a mirror to give back his reflection—unless the mirror is too dull. You can't warm your hands in front of the mirror, but on the whole it's a pleasant delusion.”
“By Jove, you're a heartless chap,” mused Winton.
“Not at all—merely reasonable,” said Brent. “I think the metaphor holds. That's why marriages are unhappy. They get along well enough as long as the man is afire, but when the passion dies out on his side there is absolute darkness. ”

“ All hair, whether black or yellow, grows gray in time. All lips are apt to grow thin and wrinkled.
“If she were cross-eyed you would never think of her as an angel. When you talk with her try to picture her as she will be ten years from to-day. I have found it an excellent antidote against pretty women. The angelic part of women stops with the glow and the bloom of youth. We imagine they have souls till the wrinkles begin to write something else on their faces.”
“But she doesn't love him,” said Cransion half to himself.
“All the better,” said Brent. ”

“ Romance, my dear Cransion, is the invention of poets, and is far better left to books.
“Far better that your sister should marry with her eyes unblinded by illusion. Lovers take happiness for granted and are horrified by disappointment. A marriage of convenience presupposes nothing but automobiles and a good cook. It is better to expect nothing and get a little than to expect everything and get a morning after.”
“I can't do it,” muttered Cransion, wringing his hands. “Dear God, I wish that I could!”
“Very well, then,” said Brent. “Then you know what to expect. ”

“ Brent did not rise, but his hand fell lightly on his hip. The smile remained, and his voice came velvet smooth, but something in that purring sound made the group about the table draw back.
“Cards are a gentleman's game, Mr. Cransion,” he said. “They were never meant for yellow dogs. Take your hands off the money, or I'll forget that you have a man's name and remember that you have a dog's heart!”
Cransion straightened as if he had received a blow, glared at Brent for a moment, through narrowing eyes, and then whirled and left the room. ”

“ You must be right. A woman is like a mirror—and the fire of a man's love can fill her with light.”
Brent walked across the room and stared out the window.
“Don't take me too seriously,” he said. “It is the curse of our times that an epigram is taken for a prophecy. Our words are building-blocks. God knows we can build them into wonderful toy castles, but unless they are cemented together with vital emotion our thoughts lack substance, and the first wind of human passion will blow down our play-houses! Pah! I am growing old!”
He turned and faced his guest with a smile. ”

“ I remember your words, sir.”
“Very well,” said Brent. “Raise the curtain, Harwood. This room is dim enough to put me to sleep again whether I will or no.”
He drew himself up on one elbow as the light slanted into the room, struck a glimmering reflection from the tall mirror, and glinted on the polished woodwork of the foot of the bed. It fell upon Brent, and showed a lean, pallid face, square chinned, with expressionless eyes.
He was one of those men who at thirty-five look twenty-five, and who at twenty-five might well be considered thirty-five. ”

“ I am desperately in love for the first time in my life, and with a girl who likes me as a friend but will have none of me as a lover. I am determined to win her, and in that determination I cannot help remembering the old maxim—”
He stopped with an apologetic smile, and his eyes sought Brent's for an instant with an appeal for understanding.
“The old maxim that all is fair in war and love,” said Brent. “Exactly. Please continue.”
“Because,” said Winton, “I think it is hard for a woman to make up her mind.”
“When she has a mind,” said Brent. ”

“ The dealer loosened his collar and leaned forward on his elbows. Herbert Cransion wrote a check with trembling hands. He was a handsome fellow, scarcely well into his twenties, and flushed now with wine and excitement he looked boyish.
“Call your five thousand and raise you five thousand,” he said, and as he spoke his mouth twitched nervously.
The eyes of the group shifted from him to the man who sat opposite, John Brent, his face as colorless as ever and the hint of a smile on his lips. They were playing stud poker. ”

“ Go out to conquer, Winton. I wish you all happiness.”
Winton considered him a moment with new eyes.
“Look here, Brent,” he said suddenly, “why not come out with me? You won't have to bother with the people at the house. I know you like to be alone,” he went on, noticing Brent's deprecatory shake of the head, “and there's a little lodge on my place about half a mile from the house. You can be absolutely alone there with your man. I'll give you a fellow to cook for you.” ”

“ Who shall lie prone on the grass with the touch of chill wind on his face and the warmth of a full sun in his heart, without thrilling to the eternal gladness of living and the eternal sorrow of change? ”

“ Margaret Cransion.
For some moment Brent kept his eyes upon the signature, and then he became aware that the cigarette had burned to his fingers. He tossed it into an ash-receiver and returned the letter to Winton in silence.
“You're right,” said Winton. “There is nothing to say about such a letter. What a wonderful girl she is! And what a dirty hound I feel to torture her so; and yet—”
“And does it content you?” said Brent at last.
“Content me?” cried Winton. “Can you ask me that seriously? Do you suppose that a starving man will turn his back on bread and water? No, no! ”

“ They shook hands silently across the table, and Winton flushed with excitement.
“There may be some trouble,” went on Brent. “I am rather widely known as a successful and professional gambler. Perhaps this chap may take to cover when he sees me.”
“No danger of that,” exclaimed Winton. “Don't fear for that. He will be like the rest—like me—he will think that he is the man who will break your luck. The point is that it isn't luck. It is you. They think that 'Jack of Spades' is an empty name. By the way, how did you get that name?” ”

“ He resumed the oars and headed the boat into the stream.
“But,” she protested somewhat anxiously, “you are rowing the wrong way. You are going down-stream, and my place is up-stream.”
“The longest way round is the sweetest way home,” caroled Brent. “Besides, your place lies too near; we would arrive there far too soon. I should not have the time to ask the questions which I must ask of you, which I am in duty bound to ask of you as Winton's friend.” ”

“ I love to see a man gather experience. Please go on with your story. It begins to have the lyric pulse.”
“Very well,” said Winton. “I have searched for a long time for some means of acquiring a controlling power over this girl. At last I have found one. Her great weakness is for her brother, who recently inherited the family estate, and his great weakness is a love for gambling.”
“And that is where I enter the plot,” said Brent without emotion. ”

“ If you could meet this brother and play cards with him, I know that we would have him in our grip in a short time.
“He hasn't much money. His father left only a small estate, a little cash, and a country place up the Hudson, where the girl is now. A few nights of heavy losing would break him completely, I'm sure. Break him in every way, for the fellow has no heart, I'm positive. When his money is gone his nerve will be gone. He will think of suicide. ”

“ He sat up on the side of the bed, put his feet into the softly furred slippers, and held out his arms to the dressing-gown which Harwood gave him.
“I begin to remember, Harwood,” he said slowly. “This man Winton lost to me on two evenings—or was it three?—when I was flat.”
“You played with him four afternoons, and two of the sessions lasted into the night,” said Harwood. “You were quite flat. Afterward he entertained you on his yacht.”
“Yes; I remember now. A good-looking fellow; rich American family; about my age?”
“I presume so, sir.”
“Good nerve for cards until the stakes go high?” ”

“ And this young man who is the hero or the villain of my story could not become a pirate, because they are so out of date, so he did the next best thing and became a professional gambler, and a very successful one. ”

“ There's a piano in the lodge, and you can drum it to your heart's content.”
“A piano?” said Brent.
“Yes; and horses to ride, and wonderful roads to ride them on, and automobiles waiting for you, and big lawns to be lazy on, and a smell of the woods that 'll put new life in you.”
“You remind me of an angel tempting the devil to be good,” smiled Brent. “No more. I'll start to-night if I may.”
He paused a moment, drumming on the table, with far-off eyes. “But the devil is sometimes uncomfortable company, Winton? ”

“ They did rise at last by fluttering degrees, and the hunger of his glance plunged into them, held them, grappled with the clear aloofness until the smile left his lips and she was gravely, almost tremulously, aware of him. And she said:
“I must turn back. See, we have come to the landing of the Winton estate. I must turn back, and I must go alone.”
He stood upon the steps of the landing, and she drew away with a long pull of the oars. He ran down to the lowest step.
“Your name,” he called. “I shall know your name!”
“It is Margaret Cransion,” she answered ”