Jasper County Democrat, Volume 4, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 January 1902 — NELLE’S LOVER [ARTICLE]

NELLE’S LOVER

WAS it alone vanity which thrilled Hal Windsor’s breast and brought the sparkle to hla eye as be ascended the steps of Mr. Bodman's handsome mansion, and deliberately pulled the bell? There was no need of baste. He knew all that follow. Now, in a moment, the ponderous door would be swung open, and the liveried servant stand ready to receive bis hat and cane, then usher him with obsequious formality into the largo and brilliantly lighted drawingroom. There might be many there to welcome the rising young barrister, but of one smile he felt assured—the smile which never failed him, which the fair daughter of the house always wore for him. She would come forward, a alight, graceful figure, with outstretched hand, which, holding a moment in his own, be knew would gladly permit its imprisonment forever. She was an heiress, too, her father's only child, and though Hai would have spurned the idea of marrying for money, the accompaniment would by no means be undesirable to the furtherance of bls ambitious alms. Therefore, If vanity it is which swells his manly breast, It Is not altogether unpardonable as he steps Inside from the cold, frosty air into the luxuriant light and warmth, and the panorama, as viewed in imagination, becomes reality. Then voices break upon the scene and we have a playonly there is no audience, and it is the play of life. “So glad to see you, Mr. Windsor,’’ says the host, coming forward with his most genial air. “We are quite alone to-night. Nellie, Mr. Windsor.” Yes, the smile Is not wanting, nor the little outstretched band sparkling with Jewels, and into the dark eyes leaps a light which it Is all too easy for the man of the world to read. Why should he not speak tonight? be questions himself. Is not this tender feeling which thrills him love, or if not the all-consuming passion as depicted—the passion, heaven help him, he once wasted on a woman's glance—surely it 4s a more enduring and a better thing. Here all would be smooth waters; no turbulent current, no waves to lash against a hopeless shore—not one, ’tis true, to share his ambitious dreams, but who, sitting quietly in her well-appointed home, would glory In the reflected luster of bls glory. So when they two had wandered off into the music-room, her fingers listlessly playing with the keys of the instrument before which she was seated, he suddenly stooped, and, pinioning both little hands within his own, asked her to be bis wife. Aye, was he not aura of his answer? Did he need the gentle whisper which passed the trembling lips, the low drooping of the fair young head until it nestled on his broad shoulder, the look of exquisite happiness which transformed the girl’s face Into a beauty scarcely human, since It was love, pure and unselfish, which brought the change. “What have I done,” she said at last, looking upward into the handsome eyes bent upon her, "to deserve such happiness? O, Hal, how could you, so grand, so noble, stoop to me?” “Hush, child,” he answered, and as in two mirrors he saw his own life, with Its hours of pain and passion, side by side with the clean, pure record of one who called herself unworthy bls choice, a flush of almost shame dyed his cheek. So they parted until the morrow, and the sweet young lips cling for a moment to his own, and a whispered "God bless you!” falls on her ear, and once again Hal Windsor goes out into the night But in his heart it is all sunshine. Somehow this girl's faith and love have wakened stronger feelings than lie knew were there. So he enters his room, where his servant has prepared everything in readiness, and fire and lights are awaiting him. On his table lies a letter. Not for ten long years has he seen that writing, and his face pales and a muttered outb escapes his lips as ho takes the created envelope Into his hands. A faint scent pervades the air as he does so, the odor as of crushed violets. Time, place, all are forgotten as that subtle perfume carries him back a half-score years, and be stands, a man of 25, in a woman’s boudoir, and she. Its owner, smiles at bls approach—■ woman whose years equal bis, but whose beauty is so glorious, bo transcendent, that years are forgotten. One does not think of time within that regal presence, and with that ainlle she lures him to bls doom, and with that smile she slays him. It is still there, calm and pitiless, when she telle him she has sold herself to Mammon, and when. In his frenzy, be pleads that she will let him work, toll, gain name, and fame, and wealth, it vanishes, only to break Into a little low, rippling, silvery laugh, as, tapping him with her fan, she answers: “Love! Yea, I love you, but what then? Could you not give me all my needs 1 should bate you. Some day, mon ami, you will thank me.” And the smile faded not when. In mad rage, he left her. For a moment he hesitates whether to toes the letter unread Into the fire, then breaks the seal and mechanically reads the lines. "I told you to forget Yet have yon not forgotten! You are still unmarried, so they tell me. I am a widow. The old dream Is dead. We will not resurrect Its ashes, but I need a friend. I am at the Hotel Vendome, and shall be at home to-morrow evening awaiting you. Shall I wait in vain? Yours, “EUBB VAUGHN.” To-morrow evening, bad prom-

ised to spend it with his betrothed. Of course he would not go. He would drop madame a note in the morning to that effect, or, stay—it would be better to take no notice. He will go to his couch and forget her. But Hal Windsor finds his bed to-night has somewhere hidden the crumpled rose leaf to disturb his slumber. Sleep he woees in vain. The lips which, in their youth and sweetness, but a few hours agone were clinging to bls own, seem wiped from memory, while other lips, curved in scornful smile, and other beauty, imperious and grand, assert their sway, and say, “Deny me if you can!” So ho rises unrefreshed, and the letter, lying still upon his table, reminds him the scene of the night is no dream. All through the day It haunts him. In vain he says, “I will not go!” Ever ringing in his ears is the question, “Shall I wait in vain?” until, as the sun is sinking, comes the determination, “I will see her, and will prove indeed the ashes of the dead may not be resurrected.” So when, at 8 o’clock, Nellie stands flushed and eager to welcome her lover, it is only the servant who enters, bearing on a salver the choicest flowers, and resting among them, as the hidden asp, the little note, which tells her how an Imperative engagement has prevented his seeing her, but that the disappointment she may feel can in no way equal his own. Poor little girl! Two teardrops fall among the roses, as she stoops to kiss their fragrant leaves, with the heaviest weight on her heart she has ever known. Ah, to love is to suffer! So early in her dream she has learned the lesson. And he, the recreant? Eight has Just struck from every clock as he stands upon the lady’s threshold who has bidden him to her presence. Have ten years elapsed since last they stood face to face? She rises from her chair to greet him, her fingers as exquisitely graceful, her eye as bright, her smile as winning, in all respects unchanged. Once more the odor of violets floats through the room. “You have summoned me, madam! I am here!” “Ah, Hal, I sent for you. Can you guess why? Because for ten long years 1 have hungered to look at your face, and now, In its coldness and disdain, I cannot recognize it I have suffered so much. Can you not yet forgive?” “And I? Have I, too, suffered nothing? Let the dead past bury its dead, Mrs. Vaughn. We are here to speak of the future.” “Since you will not be my friend, Hal,” laying one hand upon his shoulder, while, resist as he would, bls very soul thrilled to the touch. “Hal, your friendship is so little. Will you not give it to me?” “You, perhaps, have not beard, Mrs. Vaughn, that I am to be married?” The suppressed triumph lurking in the dark eyes vanished, a gleam of real suffering swept ever the exquisite face, and a ring of true pain was in her voice as she answered: “Married! Hal, Hal, who is this girl who has stolen your heart from me?” And. sinking in the chair, her face burled in her hands, she sobbed forth tin* question. If acting, then ’twere marvelous, and the man who once would have laid down his soul for her to walk on, looking on it, felt his whole being thrill in answer to her cry. A wild temptation seized him, and he seated himself by her side, to clasp her to his heart, to answer: “Noone; none could take from you that which was yours”—to look once more Into her glorious eyes, to accept the boon she had cast at his feet, to revel in her beauty. But a voice, pure, silvery sweet, seemed suddenly to float through the air. “As if you could do wrong!” and “How could you, so grand. so noble, stoop to me?” A gentle light came into his eyes, from which the veil seemed to have fallen. The violet odor, the exquisite beauty of the woman before him no longer intoxicated and enthralled him. A girl's white hand had led him into purer regions, bad taught him nobler things. “I will say good-by, Ellse,” he said, softly, taking her hand in his. “You have my forgiveness full and free for all the past, but, as you said, we will not disturb its ashes. You have not meant all you said to-night We neither of us could go back to that far-off time. The waves have washed even our footsteps from the sand. You ask me will 1 be your friend? Believe me always so. Good-night!” So he left her, and each retreating footstep sounding on her ear sounded the deathknell of the fair hopes she had once more permitted herself to build, and upon the baffled plans which lay shipwrecked and stranded. But ah! as sweetest music, they steal upon the presence of one who had so mourned their absence. “Darling, were those tears for me?” he says, kissing the drops still wet upon her cheek. “My engagement ended earlier than I expected, and I had to come to you before I slept. My darling, my darling,” wiping tenderly the flushed cheeks. “God grant I may never cause you to shed another tear.”—New York Ledger.