George Cary Eggleston

“ Since the night in Everet's house, he has been the friend, not the lover. The old life sometimes comes over her as it has to-night. The old sweet life, the old sweet love—and yet, the old love would not satisfy her now, if it must be linked with the old life. That is an unacknowledged reason for her obduracy. Love without money? Yes. Love without power, excitement, intrigue? No. If this has poisoned all her days, yet it is a delicious poison.
At times she is consumed with a sense of the mortification and indignity of those last months with Braine. ”

“ Last night, he looked at me for a long time and finally said:
"Honor is well lost for you."
It made me shiver a little to hear him speak so, and I put my hand over his mouth, but at the same time it gave me a thrill of happiness—as it would even had he said, "I could commit murder for you," for nothing could express his love as that did.
If he loves me better than honor, I know how well that is. Is not honor dearer to Edgar Braine than his life? It is strange how women can even love wickedness—when they are the cause of it. ”

“ Braine attends to every want. He dresses her as deftly as a woman, in the morning; at night he assists her again.
She requires no waiting on. He stands for moments beside her sometimes, longing to hear her signify a desire that he may fulfil it. She wants nothing.
Sometimes her presence drives him nearly mad. He sits at the desk hour after hour, feeling her dark, brooding eyes fixed upon him. He endures it until he feels his senses swimming, and then sometimes looks up with a smile, terrible in its effort and pathos. ”

“ She sobs away the night on her knees.
The months have rushed by. The time is long enough for the suffering—very short for so many agonies to be crowded into. Braine loves her as he has never loved her before. Sometimes he experiences a momentary emotion of gladness and desire for this child—but not often.
He seldom thinks of all that her condition means; and sometimes almost forgets that anything unaccustomed is or will be,—made forgetful by Helen's beauty and charm and brightness. He seldom thinks of her condition save as a cause that has had the effect to make him love her more. ”

“ The door opens and Braine hurries into the room.
He stands, bewildered at finding darkness. He can only see objects dimly through the gloom. Everet throws his arm around him, and leads him to the bed. He leaves him standing there, and hurries from the apartment.
Braine sinks on his knees beside Helen. He throws his strong arms about the frail figure, and lifts her to his heart.
There is not a sound, there in the darkness, save the heavy, tremulous breaths drawn by Braine.
He holds her so. He gives her no caress, says no word of endearment. His emotions have carried him beyond such forms. ”

“ She thinks with terror of being left in the rush, and finally—not of Braine stopping for her, but of his rushing on without her.
Braine himself has become sternly calm—to all but his wife, the only person who understands him. To her the atmosphere is electric. She has constantly in her ears the whirr of the wheels of the political machinery. Braine is lovingly impatient for her to share it all, to be in it all, and says with an eager smile, full of tender happiness:
"When this is over, dearest, and I can have you with me in all this!" ”

“ There is a sting in every word. She is on her feet, flashing her emotion at him with her beautiful eyes.
Braine half rises from his chair, and then sinks back. His face grows tender. He says kindly:
"Come here, dear. I do love you. I know I have been cold and preoccupied lately, but you should understand that I love you, Helen, better than my life. This is not like you, dear. You are tired and nervous. All this business is new to you. I am proud of you, little one. I have unlimited confidence in you. There—there," as she sobs violently in his arms; "you are worn out, dear. You must not sit up. ”

“ Helen, child, wife of my heart, who has known the good of my life as well as the bad, come back to me. My life from this hour shall attest my love for you, my sorrow and repentance. Helen, by the memories of those first years, when we lived but one for the other, I implore you. We will go away together. I forswear this life forever. I have wealth. My last penny shall be used for your happiness. The world is all before us. ”

“ Braine is the lover in every glance, every gesture and attitude at these moments when they two are alone. Indeed, his love for her seems to have gained in intensity.
They have been in the Washington house for many weeks. Braine has been absorbingly occupied with schemes of business and politics every moment, save one like this, snatched now and then, when he seems to forget the whole universe in remembering this beautiful woman.
His love finds small expression in words, but much in a caress, a radiant joy of countenance instead. ”

“ I do not feel this because I love him, but I love him because of this feeling. A good and honorable man—a man above the petty meanness of his fellows—inspires one almost with reverence.
There is a certain magnificent assurance of superiority in Edgar Braine, so that at times the thought of his marriage with a woman like me seems almost outrageous. I feel so inferior, morally and intellectually. I fear being a drag upon him; an obstacle in the road of his advancement. ”

“ Braine looks a little dazed.
"Yes, I understand."
He speaks so hopelessly that Everet's face contracts with sympathy and pain. He proposes:
"You might write to her, Braine. I could not take it, you know. But I will be there when she receives it. I will prevail upon her to read it, should she refuse."
Every word that is spoken only in kindness and from the heart, cuts Braine like a knife. He feels no jealousy, that this grave friend has an influence over his wife which he no longer possesses, but the thought hurts terribly. ”

“ Helen does not understand, but she is glad.
He is excited. Every fibre of his being is responsive. He holds her hand in his, and kisses it repeatedly, passionately. She laughs in a nervous, hysterical way, and leans her head against him. She half sobs:
"I want to be here, Ed. This satisfies me."
He presses her to him and answers:
"I am not satisfied for you. A little patience, and you shall have all. There is nothing that we cannot accomplish together. I am ambitious. There is no reason why I should not be. Ambition is a worthy sentiment. ”

“ It seems to me that all has come to the point that I have longed for. We are to be married; never separated; live comfortably, without the necessity for anxiety as to the practical things of life, and love each other unmolested by anyone or anything. This is absolute and perfect happiness. To love and live with no ambition save to do right, and feel that the world may be a little better for two loving people having lived in it.
When I teased Ed to-night about not taking me to New York for our wedding trip, he actually looked unhappy, and as though he thought I meant it. ”

“ Braine straightens himself. He says coldly, with a flavor of reproof in his tone:
"You will not see him! This is hardly the time to indulge caprice. Of course you will see him, and do what you can. If you fail then, it will be nothing for which you are to blame; but I insist that in this crisis you make what effort you can for our mutual benefit. My advancement is yours. I shall count on you. You cannot fail if you exert yourself ever so little," with a touch of tenderness and some pride, and a great deal of confidence in the tone. ”

“ Sweet evening odors, evening sounds, evening winds, surround the men like a benediction.
Braine stops once in the road and looks off over a yellow field—a field of grain half cut. A man still works there among the sweet-smelling sheaves. A comely woman has just passed through the bars beyond, and is crossing to the man who works. There is a leisurely vigor in his movements that only strong men know at resting time. ”

“ Braine notes every little detail about her—how the flash from an electric light makes the tiara in her hair sparkle; how white her hands look as they lie buried in the fur of the rug; how the little tendrils of hair cling to her neck. He thinks vehemently: "How I love this woman! How I love this woman!"
They stop in front of the house, and they go silently up the steps. Both are thinking. Woolet opens the door for them, making a vain endeavor to appear dignified and wide awake. But it is sufficiently evident that he has been asleep in the hall. ”

“ Everet touches the hand at his side. There is the peculiar gentleness in the touch that some men have. The two go on, hand in hand. The greatness of friendship lies in its simplicity. Neither speaks again until they turn into a worn foot-path at the right, and follow it to a small white house beyond.
Braine lives here. A little house set in a patch of orchard, a flower-bed here near the door—an old-fashioned bed where sweet-william reigns supreme—that shows the conscientious care of some one who loves—something. On the step, Helen's dog. ”

“ After a time, the anchovies are on the table, and the olive bottle on the window sill; the crackers carpet the floor immediately around Braine's chair, and Helen is kneeling between his knees.
The conversation becomes low toned and fitful. They like it better at those times when it is fitful. Presently, Helen says in a dreamy fashion:
"We will name the children 'Edgar,' shan't we?"
She doesn't think of what she is saying. She is in a misty dream. The silence that ensues arouses her. Edgar has not replied, and is looking out of the window. Something in his silence hurts her, humiliates her. ”