Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 April 1886 — IANTHE ALDEN’S SACRIFICE. [ARTICLE]

IANTHE ALDEN’S SACRIFICE.

BY CELESTE HUTCHINS BARKSDALE.

She had worn chrrßanthemthps the last night he had seen her, five years before; and^p-night when the enrtnin dropped upon the third act, he swept the boxes with his lorgnette and started as he saw that kaughty face and thoic Howers. He smiled and wondered if Rhe knew that he would be here. Then he fell to ■peculating as to what would be their meeting. He could not shun her, for her social world was his; and to seek her might revive old memories, which to her must be unpleasant. He had never cared for her, even in those other days when men raved of her beauty, comj»osed of Clden hair, lily-leaf skin, jet brows and ihes, wondrous gray eyes and perfect red mouth. One of the crowd, he had gone with it ns it knelt in homage at her feet to offer up incense to her statuesque loveliness. Hr had knelt in mock homage. He could simulate passion, and while kneeling before the reigning goddess, had bowed his eurled, black head in feigned adoration over her white hand; and his violet eyes were tilled with a tenderness he did not feel. She had turned from more earnest, sineerer lovers, are, and worthier ones. to lis - ten to the music of his seductive voice, until their world was agog with the affair. Not one of their mutual friends knew that Calmar Cecil had never spoken one word of love to lanthe Alden. When he bad made an unceremonious departure to Europe. that land of exiled lovers, their world arose and proclaimed lanthe Alden the most finished, most heartless coquette in their set. __ ■ /.'■■■■ If lanthe had had nny grief over Calmar? Cecil’s abrupt departure and flagrant de - ■artion she gave no sign, and went her stately way with outward serenity. Her father (tier only living parent) was glad as -the years went by that lanthe would not marry, though _ he sometimes wondered that this stately, roval woman, as impassive' M an iceberg, should have been the merry, warm-hearted little girl who cheered his _ lonely fireside. Once or twice he proposed a tour threw »h Europe, but lanthe had objected, saying that she had had enough of the continent frith her education. Instead they would jaunt to the Yosemite Valley, or up the French Broad, or among the orange and lemon groves of the St. Johns. She was too shrewd a woman not to know that she was not dear to Calmar Cecil, and she was too thoroughly a woman not to ■corn to have him think that she sought him in the tourists’ haunts of Switzerland or along the slope* of the Rhine. With woman's acute instinct she divined that the holy of holies of his being was filled with a love for another; and having divined this, she bowed her golden head to the decree of an implacable Fate, accepting it as her destiny. To-night Miss Alden saw Mr. Cecil as he leaned forward, and she adjusted the lace draperies in accordance with her fastidious , taste, sank back upon the crimson velvet chair, a smile parting her red lips a's she took up the mother-of-pearl and gold lorgnette lying idle beside her bouquet.: She had expected Mr. Ceotl, and so had nerved herself for the self-assigned task when she should catch his eye. Curiously her eves.poted the same lack of sympathy with all that was passing around him. Their eyes met. Miss Alden gave him a ■teady glance, then half smiling bent her golden head in a stately bow of recognition. Under her breath she said; “He is not worth a heartache—yet how handsome he is!” She wore to-night white chrysanthemums, and flowers were unusual to her. She would prove- to him that she had no tender thoughts of the past, and in it nothing to fear. She had no love for chrysanthemums, and saw no beauty in their golden hearts and snowy fringe-petals. He had asked her to wear them once, saying they reminded him of his dead sister, who had loved them; and lanthe had worn —them frequently after that irrthose old days when she craved to please him. ’ ——*l think, my blossom, Calmar Cecil is just opposite us,” her father said, between the bursts of music. “It is very probable, father. I saw in yesterday’s paper he had returned,” she answered, indifferently. r “ ‘Love’s Exile,” murmured an admirer, ■oming into the box. “Since when?” she smiled by way of courtesy. “Tradition saith not.” I “Oh, it is a tradition ! Mr. Cecil would be intensely amused to know that he had become a tradition. You knew him before his ‘exile’ ? No ? My word for it. he has not changed in the least, save to gain more tuvoir faire." ~ “He has grown stouter, lanthe,” her father said. - —— ——— “Possibly, father. < Dining with dukes and wining with lords is apt to increase avoirdupois,” and she laughed a delicious little laugh, glancing at the box wherein ■at Mr. Cecil, noting with cultivated eyes each perfect outline of feature and form,. dainty coloring and haughty manner. “My ivory Galatea has had the celestial fire breathed into her, and has at last •wakened into a gloriously lovely creature.” fee said, under his breath. \ The curtain went up and the ph>y went ■St, both on and off the stage. The friends

of ninth* Alden and Calmar Cecil began to note the by-plav; and when after an absence from his box Mr. Cecil appeared in Mr. Alden's, their social set was on the qui rire. . —x— a “Will you not extend the hapd.of friendship to a wanderer ?” Mr. Cecil Jhad said, bowing low before her. “Indeed, yes !” smilingly extending her hand, still with, a haughtiness that-made him feel that this royally beautiful woman meant that he should not transcend the limits of mere society friendship. "My flowers, please,” as the lending lady bowed in aqswerto an encore. “The star always flatters me by accepting chrysanthemums from me. See !” The white and gold flowers fell at the actress' feet. Stooping, she caught up the bouquet, and .half-smiling, bowed to Mis* Alden. In her room, alone, lanthe Alden knelt to pray. “Oh, God, help me to win his love ! I would repay heartache for heartache! Help me to revenge the womanhood immolated upon the altar of his self-love ! Permit me to avenge the desecration of ideals!" The leading lady carried behind the scenes the bouquet of white chrysanthemums. Sheaaid to herself as she donned her furs: ———— “They are Miss Alden's. 1 will carry them to ray poor lame Jessie. She used to loVe them long ago. when Calmar Cecil and May brought them to her. I saw Calmar to-night—and he was in Miss Alden’s box. I did hear that lanthe Alden had coquetted with him; but looking in her eyes to-night I know that her womanly soul would not stoop to coquetry. 1 will watch her flowers, and in them I will read her heart,” and the star passed out into the night. “See What I bring you, Jessie.” The actress crossed the room and laid the bouquet in the eagerly outstretched hands of her sister. “You always ask for Miss Alden’s flowers. To-night she threw me these.” “Oh, my darlings!" The lame girl buried her face in the flowers. “They are like so many blessed memories, Mag. ” tremulously. “I wonder so fine a lady would, care for so commou a flower—unless "

“She was royally beautiful to-night, Jessie, in a proud, high-bred way that disdains all admiration for it. Even the-com-mon old chrysanthemums failed to detract from the rarity of her loveliness. And, Jessie." very slowly, "someone else was there. ” -“~r . “Not Cal, Mag!”the girl-gas ped, Mag knelt beside the lame girl, and putting her arms around her tenderly, said: “Yes, dear, none other than Calmar Cecil.” “And he loved chrysanthemums!” The flowers fell in a white heap upon the carpet as Jessie buried her face in her thin hands. “He loved, chrysanthemums, Mag. and she wears them for him. Oh, Cal! Cal!” Silently the elder sister stroked the bowed head. She, too, felt that Miss Alden had worn these flowers because of Calmar Cecil. “I thought you had done with this foolishness,. Jessie.” Jessie straightened up, a white smile, on her lips. ■ “I have, Mag. I was only overcome at the sight of my flowers. They recall so much. Doyon remember what a luxuriant bed Cal and May had, Mag? Large, gol-den-hearted ones, like these. May wore them always, you remember, when they were in bloom.” “I remember, dear." “Calnnd May used to walk over and bring us such fragrant bunches.” “They brought them to you, dear."

“And I wore them ’’ “In your ’bonuy brown hair' until you fell ill with fever,” supplied Mag, as she replaced the fallen flowers. “The fever, that killed May imd lamed me."“Jessiebrokointo a®tgh. “May's coffin was covered over and filled in with flowers like these. If May Cecil had lived, Jessie, her brother would not tonight be the fashionable vagabond he is. We heard five years ago that Miss Alden coquetted with Calmar. llooked into her eyes to-night, and they are as pure as your oWn7 _ Whatever may~be"“(he~ verdict of the” world, I know that Calmar Cecillias played Miss Alden false.” “No, no, Mag!” “Jessie, once Calmar loved you. and because of your lameness you had the moral courage to put bis love from you; since then, dear, he has had no love to give any woman. He made Miss Alden believe that he loved her—she was a girl then, with girlish ideas of the true, good and beautiful. When he found that the reigning belle of the creme de la creme loved him he fled the country ‘for his country's good.' ” “ You never liked Cal, Mag!” “Even so. Why should I? I hope, my darling, that you are not regretting giving him back bis freedom—”

"My heart has ached so all these years, Mag,” pathetically. ! The elder sister drew the other closer to her, and bending, kissed passionately the quivering lips. "Shall I ring for Nellie, darling? lam fatigued; and as to-morrow begins the rehearsal of a new play. I will bid you good night. Do not dream of chrysanthemums.” Alone in her room Maggie Archer said to herself: “I wonder how this will all end! Were Ito send for Calmar would\ he renew his allegiance to my fading flower? Or’ has -constant contact with the world obliterated the memory of her sweet face and dispelled the perfume of her love? Will he again bow before the shrine of Miss Alden’s transcendent loveliness? Will she accept! his homage? I know that it is not love him. I wonder if he remembers—she paused and her lips curved into scornful lines —“that he and I once cared for each other? He has forgotten that It is chtoce, fate, kismet,” breaking into a sigh. The following night the leadmg t lady put into her sister's hands a bouquet of tea roses. " ■

"Miss Alden's gift. Jessie,” she said. “Was he there, Mag?” “Yes, dear: handsomer than ever, very unlike4he Calmar -who onee went ehestntH hunting up in the mountain? with us. Miss Alden was very graeious; with the nir of a princess.” "And he; Mag!” eagerly. “He was all devotion, of course. That goes for nothing, Jessie. Men are that at all times and to all women.’’ ■ “Is she very beautiful; Mag?" ’ ‘ - “The loveliest woman I ever saw!" “If I could only see her once!” “That is not so impossible, Jessie. I will secure you a box, and Mrs. Manners mav go with vou. Would vou like that, mv flower?” . ‘ A “Oh, so much, Mag!” and the eyeVof the lame girl glowed brightly. "I did wrong to propose it,” Slag communed with herself. “It will make her unhappy to see them together, as she will. —loathe -Alden sat- beside her father asusnal, her incomparable loveliness enhanced by the glow of lights: > beautiful, living poem. Sweeping the boxes with her, opera glass her gaze rested upon the fragile beauty of Jessica Archer. Who could it be?: she asked, herself. Then she turned to her father. As 'one gentle num after another came in to pay their devoirs to the~reigning beauty and belle of the season, she made the inquiry'• To each it was a new face. “She watches you intently, Miss Alden,” said one. < '

“What a atrinigr,' pathetic, loveliness.” •he mused, as she looked straight into the bright, big •yes of Jessica Archer, who noted each beauty in Miss Alden’s face. I think that tt tn the lamb sister of our star. 1 was told so a moment ago/* exnlaine<k< gentleman coming in. “By the live, they are friends of Cecil’s —one an old love. Sad dog that Cecil! ” Mr. Cecil strolled into the box at that moment and sat down beside Miss Alden, taking up her bouquet of japooieas. The quiet coldness of this woman pleased the taste of Mr. Cecil, and "he had more than once within the past few weeks anathematized himself as nn idiot for his conduct and his years of exite. ~ The play ran on, the curtain went up and down, bnt the bright eyes never wandered from the two in the box together. As the leading lady came out in scene after scene she watched in vain for an answering glance from het Bister. Always away from the stage the star-bright eyes shone, taking in each curve and beauty of the high-bred face of Miss Alden. At last the play was over. . ■ “I will not throw my flowers to-qjght, Mr. Cecil,” Miss Alden said. “Tnever offer such flowers as japonicas to this actress. I have long ago learned that she did not care for such. A bunch of violets, a few scarlet-hearted roses, a spray of heliotrope or chrysantheTtnum pleases her better. I ain told that she carries them hpme to an invalid sister.” She gave him a sidelong glance which he misunderstood. Just at that iqoment he glanced across into the box opposite and met the full gaze of Jessica Archer fixed upon him. He turned slightly pale, and with a frown, he carelessly toyed with the flowers he held in his bund, as he glanced over the sea of faces.

Miss Alden saw it all, and comprehended the look of mute, pathetic entreaty in,the face of the girl opposite, comprehended that she had once had a place in< this man's heart and had given it up. Slje felt that she stood face to face-with an implacable fate, She shivered as she drew about her the rich furs, and taking her father's arm went away. “Oh, God,’’she prayed, when alone, “give me strength to put from me dawning happiness. L cannot accept that which is another's. Deliver me from temptation!” “I was mistaken;” Mag said to herself. “Calmar loves her; I saw that to-night. I must go to Jessie. Poor child, she has had her wish gratified.” When-the sisters were alone, Jessica exclaimed. passionately: “He loves her, Mag! I saw it to-night! And she, ah, how beautiful she is! She—she does not care for him as he deserves. She is too cold—too cold!” “My dear, she is not cold! No, no! The lava runs hot enough beneath that cold exterior. ” “He is no longer my Cal, Mag!” bursting into tears. In her own room, with Jessie's sobs audible, Maggie Archer prayed: “Oh, my Father, spare me this one treasure—this last loved one! Give to her that which her heart craves!” The season swept on, a gay season, the gayest for many years.- Wagers were laid for and against the match betweeh lanthe Alden anil Calmar Cecil. Even Mr. Alden began to wonder what he should do when lanthe left him.

One night, late in the season, the last appearance of the star of Theater, Miss Alden sat in the box alone with Mr. Cecil, her father having been called away for a few moments. Mag came on the stage as Desdemona; glancing at the Alden box, as usual, her heart sank as she saw Miss Alden wearing "se ason. This confirmed the reports. She wore his flowers again. Well, it did not matter much. Jessie would soon be gone. Between the lines of the tragedy Desdemona wove heruwn tbonghts, and iL her acting" was more pathetic to-night than it had ever been, it was because of the sweet, wasted face of her sister. The play ran on; lago triumphed in his villainy, Desdemona was murdered, Emilia stabbed; at last the curtain rolls down, and the audience breathe freer. 1

—“Your pencil;" Mr.- Cecih 4 ’ MiBB eyes were filled with a light he had never seen itx them, the light of divine self-abne-gation. On a card she wrote: “To Jessica Archer from Calmar Cecil.” Mr. Cecil was looking at the letters she formed. His face paled and he put forth his hand to take the card. Quickly, nervously, Miss Alden buried the card t in the depths of the bouquet, and as the curtain rose she leaned forward and threw the bouquet at the feet of the resurrected denioua.j lanthe Alden held her breath. She trusted her future to fate. If the actress accepted the bouquet she knew that the lame girl would get the message—if not, possible happiness dawned for her. Maggie bowed right and left, then stoop, ing she selected from the multitude of flowers the white chrysanthemums, kissing them, bowed to Miss Alden, and the curtain closed upon the two tragedies. Calmar Cecils fingers closed over lanthe’s hand nearest him, and he leaned forward, asking, huskily: , • “What do you know about Jessica Archer?” — —

“Only that you loved her before you ever knew the; only that you love her, knowing me, and that you are going back to her. No,” and a smile more pathetic than tears curved her perfect mouth, “you may save yourself the trouble of denial, I know it all. You were never true to me: never true to yourself; it is late now for it. but you must be true to her. Let her life shame you into manhood.” “Did you know that I came to-night to ask you to be my wife?” he asked, hoarsely. “I surmised as much;” for an instant the clear, sweet voice faltered. "I could not accept such a sacrifice—” “ •Sacrifice!’ Oh, God! when I love you better than life. lanthe!” he said, passionately. "Your place is beside Jessica Archer. -Go to her this niubt. make her your wife. ” “But I love yon, lanthe-” . —“Hush!” she cried, imperiously. “I am not the lanthe Alden of five years ago. Our fate lies in those chrysanthemums, and we accept it. Yes, father, I am ready. Will be pleased to see you at any time. Mr. Cecil. ” She swept him a regal bow, and left him alone. i . “Chrysanthemums again, Mag?” Jessie leaned eagerly forward to take them. “Even so. These are the last you will get. Miss Alden flung them at me as though they burned her dainty fingers. She watched me so intently that I thought once I would leave them lying there to show her fine ladyship that Mag Archer did not care for her flowers. I hope they will bring you more happiness than any othersever did. Cal Cecil was in her box tonight. What is the matter. Jessie ?" The girl gave a cry, and Maggie sprang toward her. t - “See, Msg! see, Mag!” she cried, between her sobs, holding up lanthe Alden’s card. “Mag! Mag! he loves me still!” The door opened softly and Calmar Cecil came into the room. Straight he walked to the chair of the lame girl, and never heeding Mag's presence, took Jessie in his arms, saying: “I have come, dear, for my wife." Mag went oui Of the room, the card in her hand, her eyes blinded with |tears.

Going to the light she scanned the card clokefy. / “As’ I thought, Calmar Cecil never wrote tli.s.' That grand’woman, lanthe Alden, ; did; She ioveg him, yet she senda him to Jessie?’ Tears strennled down Mags fa e; ' she had npt expected such generosity. “I will ' not interfere this time. My flower will not bloom on earth through another year— I aye, before the ehrysautbemnjns t>loss<iin' I again she will be gone; and.her presence I may ennoble, enrich the man's heart for that other ope.” .

The morning papers announced the marriage of Mr. Calmar Cecil to Miss Jessica Archer. " £ i - “How exclaimed Mr. Alden, a« his daughter read the notice. “An‘unearthed romance, I knew jt a great while ago?’ “Humph!" with a suspicious glance at his daughter's statuesque face, . ■ ’ “What have you to do, father?" “In business?" . ‘‘Yes?’ ’ “Nothing; business is dull; I say, lanthe, suppose we take that trip to Europe? I am confoundedly tired of tread, mill existence. ” “As you like, father, —only wait several weeks—until the season closds.” Miss Alden was very gay during the following evening, her world had never seen her so regally beautiful and so gay. Before sue went to sleep she said, to a faded chrysanthemum she held in her hand: “Pretty blossom, would you not like to creep close up to God's footstool and rest? I would! Oh, Father, temper thou thy wind to the shorn lamb.”— Chicago ledger.