I love you, Helen, but you are not first To rouse that love to being. Ere we met I loved a woman madly--never dreaming She was not all in truth she was in seeming.
Enough! she proved to be that thing accursed Of God and man--a wily vain coquette.
I hate myself for having loved her. Yet So much my heart spent on her, it must give A love less ardent, and less prodigal, Albeit just as tender and as true - A milder, yet a faithful love to you.
Just as some evil fortune might befall A man's great riches, causing him to live In some low cot, all unpretending, still As much his home--as much his loved retreat, As was the princely palace on the hill, E'en so I give you all that's left, my sweet!
Of my heart-fortune.'
'That were more to me,' I made swift smiling answer, 'than to be The worshipped consort of a king.' And so Our faith was pledged. But Vivian would not go Until I vowed to wed him New Year day.
And I am sad because you go away Before that time. I shall not feel half wed Without you here. Postpone your trip and stay, And be my bridesmaid."
"Nay, I cannot, dear!
'Twould disarrange our plans for half a year.
I'll be in Europe New Year day," I said, "And send congratulations by the cable."
And from my soul thanked Providence for sparing The pain, to me, of sharing in, and wearing, The festal garments of a wedding scene, While all my heart was hung with sorrow's sable.
Forgetting for a season, that between The cup and lip lies many a chance of loss, I lived in my near future, confident All would be as I planned it; and, across The briny waste of waters, I should find Some balm and comfort for my troubled mind.
The sad Fall days, like maidens auburn-tressed And amber-eyed, in purple garments dressed, Passed by, and dropped their tears upon the tomb Of fair Queen Summer, buried in her bloom.
Roy left us for a time, and Helen went To make the nuptial preparations. Then, Aunt Ruth complained one day of feeling ill:
Her veins ran red with fever; and the skill Of two physicians could not stem the tide.
The house, that rang so late with laugh and jest, Grew ghostly with low whispered sounds: and when The Autumn day, that I had thought to be Bounding upon the billows of the sea, Came sobbing in, it found me pale and worn, Striving to keep away that unloved guest Who comes unbidden, making hearts to mourn.
Through all the anxious weeks I watched beside The suff'rer's couch, Roy was my help and stay; Others were kind, but he alone each day Brought strength and comfort, by his cheerful face, And hopeful words, that fell in that sad place Like rays of light upon a darkened way.
November passed; and Winter, crisp and chill, In robes of ermine walked on plain and hill.
Returning light and life dispelled the gloom That cheated Death had brought us from the tomb.
Aunt Ruth was saved, and slowly getting better - Was dressed each day, and walked about the room.
Then came one morning in the Eastern mail, A little white-winged birdling of a letter.
I broke the seal and read, "Maurine, my own!
I hear Aunt Ruth is better, and am glad.
I felt so sorry for you; and so sad To think I left you when I did--alone To bear your pain and worry, and those nights Of weary, anxious watching.
Vivian writes Your plans are changed now, and you will not sail Before the Springtime. So you'll come and be My bridesmaid, darling! Do not say me nay.
But three weeks more of girlhood left to me.
Come, if you can, just two weeks from to-day, And make your preparations here. My sweet!
Indeed I am not glad Aunt Ruth was ill - I'm sorry she has suffered so; and still I'm thankful something happened, so you stayed.
I'm sure my wedding would be incomplete Without your presence. Selfish, I'm afraid You'll think your Helen. But I love you so, How can I be quite willing you should go?
Come Christmas Eve, or earlier. Let me know, And I will meet you, dearie! at the train.
Your happy, loving Helen."
Then the pain That, hidden under later pain and care, Had made no moan, but silent, seemed to sleep, Woke from its trance-like lethargy, to steep My tortured heart in anguish and despair.
I had relied too fully on my skill In bending circumstances to my will:
And now I was rebuked and made to see That God alone knoweth what is to be.
Then came a messenger from Vivian, who Came not himself, as he was wont to do, But sent his servant each new day to bring A kindly message, or an offering Of juicy fruits to cool the lips of fever, Or dainty hot-house blossoms, with their bloom To brighten up the convalescent's room.
But now the servant only brought a line From Vivian Dangerfield to Roy Montaine, "Dear Sir, and Friend"--in letters bold and plain, Written on cream-white paper, so it ran:
"It is the will and pleasure of Miss Trevor, And therefore doubly so a wish of mine, That you shall honour me next New Year Eve, My wedding hour, by standing as best man.
Miss Trevor has six bridesmaids I believe.
Being myself a novice in the art - If I should fail in acting well my part, I'll need protection 'gainst the regiment Of outraged ladies. So, I pray, consent To stand by me in time of need, and shield Your friend sincerely, Vivian Dangerfield."
The last least hope had vanished; I must drain, E'en to the dregs, this bitter cup of pain.
