Quite a while she lay thus, for the first time giving full vent to her feelings. She had not intended to do so, but of what avail are good resolutions when the heart is full to overflowing; when every fiber clings to some loved object from which it is about to be separated, and she had not known how close her heart had clung and was clinging to this handsome, noble man, this lover of her best, her almost only friend. In spite of all the teachings and theorizing of later days the thought would steal into her mind—was it right? Is it right? Was she, O, was she wronging that noble girl? But Margaret’s clear eyes still wore the same sweet, shining light that they had always been wont to wear. Always cheerful, always loving. If she considered herself wronged she certainly understood how to most successfully hide it.
But in giving shape and being to such a thought, was she not wronging Margaret? Her ideas of right and wrong were far too lofty to permit her for one instant to entertain such a sentiment. Would not the idea that those precious friends by their love were wronging her, be equivalent to placing a curb upon the natural outpourings of their hearts? Would not this thought be an infringement on personal liberty? To prove that she had been wronged Margaret must analyze the how! Could it in this case be otherwise than that some one person had taken or appropriated something that was her own, her personal property? Now how could any one rob her of her own? She knew and felt that that which was her own no one else could take from her, for just as soon as that which she had thought her own was appropriated by another, the unquestionable, the insurmountable truth confronted her that the said object had not been her own. Or, again, if such could once have been the case it proved now her inability to hold it and consequently at the same time proved her unworthiness. Are we, is anyone, justified in an attempt to forcibly retain that which in nature is attracted elsewhere?
Margaret in her reasoning would have answered “No!” Therefore it was the height of folly to speak of robbing her. And when the object in question, as in this case, was the heart of a man, was it not a question so easily answered as not to leave a shadow of doubt that he who bore the heart in question in his bosom was the natural owner thereof, and as such, was possessed of the indisputable right to dispose of it?
But Imelda, through his love for her, might sway that heart? O, yes! that was her right, as he had granted it to her. That another, equally pure and good girl had the power to win and sway him also proved only to her that his nature was more grand, his character more noble, his mind more pure, and his heart vastly larger than that of other men. No! Margaret did not feel herself wronged, although she knew that Imelda held an equally warm place in his great heart.
But as yet Imelda did not fully realize and understand the full grandeur of Margaret’s nature; how wholly uncalled for her fears were; and when she gave expression to this fear that was making havoc with her peace, Wilbur who knew and understood the noble sentiments of his brave Margaret answered the agitated girl:
“Where is the usually clear-headed woman, the woman who has discussed so often these questions of right and wrong? of individual liberty, of universal liberty? the question of the emancipation of women from sex slavery? the woman who has been claiming and agitating for herself, and for her much wronged sex, the right to the indisputable ownership of herself? In accordance with all this, would you now place all your holiest and purest feelings and desires in a bondage most unnatural? Would you not by such action admit the right of one person to dictate a ‘thou shalt’ and ‘thou shalt not’ to another? Look up, my sweet. You do not think me, and believe me, still so far in the old ruts and so deep in the old superstitions and prejudices that in order to love one girl I must prove false and disloyal in my allegiance to another.
“See! as yet we have not arrived at the point of action. We have not yet the strength to stand and walk alone. As yet we are only theorizing. The few advocates of Love in Liberty with whom we have been associating in an intimate circle are not egotistic enough to expect our women, our girls, to shake off the restraining hands of society and act in accord with their beliefs and views. That would mean ostracism. We dare not place so heavy a load upon weak shoulders without giving them the assurance that at all events their future is provided for. Stern, demoralizing poverty binds our hands, and until ways and means are found which will show us in a clear light the road we are to travel we must conquer nature’s desires and wait, patiently wait. But shall this circumstance prevent us also from folding the sweet loved ones to our hearts and from laying the kiss of pure and holy love upon their lips? Never! Imelda, you would not ask it. What is it to us if the whole world declares the human heart is capable of only one small dwarfed love. We know better; we who have been developing under Nature’s teachings. We will follow nature’s promptings and permit our hearts to expand in the sunshine of their beauty, wherever and whenever this beauty bursts in its glory upon us.”
Placing his hand gently under and raising the tear-wet face until he could look into the shining moist eyes, and bending low his lips pressed hers in a long and lingering kiss, and by and by under the influence of his caresses and soothing words a quiet peace stole over Imelda, only that subtle pain that held her heart, as with an icy grip would torment her and—well she knew what caused it.
“But,—‘Harrisburg’”—Wilbur was speaking—“is not the end of the world by any means. We will meet again, my love. I feel it. Probably when the clouds have passed away, when we can see clearer and know what we can do and ought to do. And then, who knows, in that unknown future into which you are about to step, may be a work for you to perform. Your destiny may be lying awaiting your coming. There you may find him who will prove your best loved one. Nay, sweet one; shake not your head. I am not vain enough, not conceited enough to think that I alone should possess the power to sway your gentle heart. No! I hope you may prove yourself stronger and greater than the common everyday woman, whose ideal of pure love is centered in one poor, weak mortal with his one, two, perhaps more, sterling good qualities yet who will prove himself lacking in others equally good, nay, perhaps better qualities, which will be represented in another man but which by her must be passed by unnoticed because not centered in the person of her one love. No! my darling. I hope the time will come when a grander passion will come to you than I have inspired.”
Wilbur smiled as he again folded her close and kissed the trembling lips. “I appreciate the sweet tender love that fills and swells your gentle breast, but I know, if you do not, that it will be another than myself who will be able to shake this woman’s heart of yours to the very foundation of your being. Under the influence of a mightier love than you have yet felt you will awake to your full strength. Then will come the time when you will arise to the height and glory of your work in the cause of humanity, in the cause of womankind.”
He spoke the words soothingly, smoothing the glossy dark braids, as if thereby to cause the pain of the present hour to gently pass over. Did he feel that his words would prove prophetic? With a swift motion peculiar to herself she threw her head slightly back looking upward into the earnest eyes, taking his face between both her hands, she said, softly, gently:
“Wilbur, you are a man among men! A friend whom any woman might well count a priceless treasure. Whether or not it is true that my heart will find another whom, in time, it will own king, this much I do know, that I know of no place where I would rather rest than in your strong sheltering arms, but the time has come that I must stand alone. I am about to weigh the last anchor that holds me to the old life. In a few hours I shall be speeding away, cut loose from all the old ties. I will be brave now, and calmly look the coming time squarely in the face.” Saying which she disengaged herself from the encircling arms.
“Where is Margaret?” Scarcely had the question dropped from her lips when the answer came just outside the door.
“Here! I am late, I know, and that too when I wanted to be here early in order to have one more hour with my darling girl, ere we are parted. But mamma was quite sick this morning; something unusual for her, as she generally has such good health. I left her sleeping, however, and feeling much better.” This last in answer to the anxious inquiry that fell from two pairs of lips at the same time.
“O, my precious, precious darling, must I really lose you? I cannot realize that it can be true that I am to lose my friend, my Imelda;” and the two girls sank into each other’s arms, clasping each other in a tender loving embrace, mingling their pain and tears. Wilbur stepped to the window and studied the tops of the buildings upon which he gazed in order to give these two tried and true friends an opportunity for a last exchange of a multitude of thoughts and emotions that were thronging their breasts and seeking utterance in incoherent speech. But time is merciless in its flight. Wilbur turned to remind the girls that the final moments were drawing very near.