Then had come the hour of temptation to him. Sweet Margaret had come into his life, and he found himself shaken to the very depths of his being, but he came forth conqueror. He loved the girl with all the power of an intense nature, but he would never seek to bind her. His love should bless her but never prove a scourge. The girl’s heart had grown faint when it had caught his meaning. Love, sweet, pure soul-redeeming love, had come to her, but not such as the world knew it. She was not to know the meaning of the word wife. O, how her love had been tested! But love had conquered, and together they had studied the problem that had at first appeared as though it would prove the shoal upon which their bark of life was to be wrecked. But the skillful hands of reason had warded off the dreaded disaster and had safely guided them through the rocks out into the smooth waters of the mid ocean, but for the present they were adrift; as yet they could not see the shore, the haven where they might safely be anchored. Now and then this caused the trusting maiden an anxious pang, the honorable man a deeper pain than he wished to betray, but the sky was clear, bright sunshine and smooth waters made the way very pleasant. So they were content to drift on.
Margaret had learned to understand the meaning of the glorious freedom that her lover sought to secure to her. She had looked deep into the mysteries of married life with the aid of that mother whose experiences had been so terrible. She had learned also to walk with open eyes and to read the signs as she walked. And oh, how her pure soul revolted at the hideous sights that were covered with a filmy veil, sights that the gauze like covering made only the more horrible by the vain attempt at concealment.
She lifted the smiling blue eyes to the clouded face of her friend who seemed almost to have forgotten her presence.
“Well, Imelda, what do you think? Do you now understand how I could express myself as I did some days ago?”
“I understand now, as I did then, that you had just cause to mistrust the present institution of marriage. I do not blame you, but there is still much that is not clear to me. What else can we do, if we would not sacrifice nature’s truest, purest instincts?”
Margaret slowly shook her head, and scarcely above a whisper came the words:
“I do not know.”
Wilbur had been observing the girls and had heard the low-spoken words. A sad smile played about his lips.
“Wait,” he gently said. “The problem is too great to be solved in one short afternoon. It has caused me considerable thought for quite a number of years. As yet I have found no satisfactory solution, but do not despair of eventually doing so. When woman becomes conscious of her true worth she will soon find means to have that worth recognized. I think, however, for a first lesson, Miss Ellwood has done extremely well. Suppose we discuss some commonplace subject for a change. The weather for instance. Have we not been having some very fine weather for October?”
Both girls looked up, first at Wilbur, then at each other. There was nothing remarkable about discussing the weather, but just at this moment it sounded ridiculous, and but for the fact that Wilbur’s face was like an impenetrable mask they would have burst out laughing. As it was they controlled the desire and soon found themselves discussing plays, literature, art, etc., which they found very interesting.
The minutes passed by and soon they arrived at their destination. The parting words were said, Wilbur giving expression to the sincere wish that she would again join their circle.
And Imelda did join them, again and again. She seemed drawn to the circle in the lecture room by some magic force. Question after question on that radical platform was brought up for discussion. The fields of science also were explored. She soon found that she was able to learn at that place more in a few short months than in all probability she would have learned in the outside world in years.
Many were the battles she was called upon to fight with the deep rooted superstitions of other days. Idol after idol crumbled to dust beneath the merciless fingers, but bravely she held out while scale after scale fell from the weak eyes until at last they grew stronger and she could see as with a new light. Bright and clear was now what had seemed dark and murky before. The new truths burst upon her in all their splendor and at last Imelda was ready to take her place in the world as an inspired priestess of the new realm of thought; of the new truths by means of which the world should be renovated and womankind uplifted.
Thus time had slipped by and brought its changes to Imelda. Her mother had been laid to rest at her father’s side, and in spite of the desire of her friends to share their home, she had made one for herself. Humble though her little attic room might be she was queen in its realm.
They were indeed dark days that now fell to the lot of Imelda. It was hard to hide the aching heart beneath a smiling exterior, but it was part of her daily task, and bravely did she accomplish it. But when she returned at night to spend the evening alone in her little room, it was then that she was often overcome; it was then that the over tired spirit gave way to grief. As she looked around at the many little mementoes of earlier and happier days, they brought vividly to her memory the times when her father, with his favorite child at his side, had permitted her to look into the depths of his artist soul. If home had not always been the most pleasant of places, yet at those times she had not known the meaning of the word sorrow as she now knew it. Father and mother were now sleeping in the silent grave. The brother and sister who ought, by nature’s ties, to be more closely drawn to her now than ever before, were, she knew not where. And in the new light in which she now looked upon the world, she felt more sorrow than anger toward the wayward absent ones. O, if she could but have the assurance that the future would develop the better part of their natures she felt she could willingly forget the past. Could she but find them! She thought that perhaps there might yet be a way of reaching their hearts; but never a word did she hear from either. If it had not been for the friendship of Margaret, who was more and more a true sister to her, her life would indeed have been lonely and dark.
Nor was Margaret her only friend. Among the circle of radicals where Imelda was a constant attendant she found many that were sympathetic in more ways than one, but none attracted her more powerfully than did Mr. Roland. He was more like a father than a mere friend, and fatherly had often been the advice that the kind and sympathetic old gentleman had given her. One other, also, had an influence over her life and strongly did she feel herself attracted in this direction. That other was Wilbur Wallace. In spite of the love he bore the winsome Margaret, the sad dark-eyed Imelda had the power to stir his heart to its very depths. Fain would he have folded both sweet girls to his great loving heart and cherished them there as priceless treasures. Margaret saw and understood what was going on in the heart of the man she loved, but she understood also that that which was “her own” would remain her own, and she “feared not.”
Margaret was right. Even though Imelda’s head was sometimes pillowed on the breast of her lover and even though he should kiss the tears from the sad eyes and hush the fear of the trembling lips, what of it? The love that was to throw Imelda’s whole being into a tumult was yet to be called forth by another. This love that she felt for Wilbur Wallace was a sweet, tranquil affection, undisturbed by the passions that clamor for possession. Knowing and understanding this, the two girls were more firm friends than ever. If now and then Wilbur felt a stronger emotion; an emotion that would cost him an effort to subdue, no one but himself was aware of it. He knew that the time had not as yet come that it would be practicable to give vent to his feelings in the manner that he felt was right and natural, and that the well being and happiness of both these girls was far too dear to his noble heart for him to cause them one needless pang.
Thus matters stood when one day Margaret startled them by stating her determination to prepare to go upon the stage. She knew that she possessed dramatic talent of no mean order, and had often expressed a desire to choose the stage as a means of earning a livelihood. Nor did she meet with opposition now from her friends, although they were at first somewhat taken aback. Within a week she was in the hands of a competent teacher. This, of course, necessitated study, and instead of spending so many of her evenings as she had hitherto done in the society of Wilbur and Imelda, she was forced to devote her spare time to books. This fact caused Imelda and Wilbur to be more often thrown together than ever before. Now it was music they practiced together; then it was a new book they read and discussed, while now and then they would go and hear some good opera. As a general thing when such was the case Margaret would go also, as she passionately loved the queens of song; and her sweet lips only curved in a happy smile as she observed the good understanding between the two whom she so dearly loved. That such a thing could be possible as Imelda winning her lover from her never once entered Margaret’s mind. And she was right. Wilbur Wallace did not hold lightly the gift of his Margaret’s love.