Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1883-12-01
A GREAT TEMPTATION.

Alice Arnden was not woman one vould
select for heroine because Of her personality.
She was neither large nor small; she was bean
| tiiul, think, (beauty is hard thing to define
ana iimit.) but 1t was beauty of no wonderful
| or unusual type, and was of that kind which
grows on one gradually as his knowledge of the
/ possessor OF it grows. There was a wealth of
sweetness and purity shining up in her eyes,
which tears could never wash out; and the
mouth indicated frmness and resolution. which
had its beginning long before the nights vigil
which had left it so sternly agonized.
| The trouble which has come to Alice Arm den
Is of no unusual kind. 1t is a sudden sorrow. of
kind which has crushed out all of hope In life.
many times In the past, and will many tunes in
| the future as long as men and maidens are proud
and willful. One may say, ''only lovers quar-
rel. but one should remember that there are
! heart-tragedicS in this world under the torture
of which men and women drag out long lives
without finding peace. To Alice Arnden it
seemed as though everything worth having in
life was now forever utterly beyond her hope
She arose from the seat she had occupied for
/ so long. and moved slowly around her humble
room. She had not known, until she moved.
now much she was suffering physically: how
cold it was; how cramped and weary she was
! There was really little to do. Her bed had not
been used: her room was in order. She had
plenty of time TO prepare herself tor the task of
| covering her sorrow from the gaze of her friends
| if she could.
She made fire. and into the fire she remorse-
lessiy pat all the fragments of the paper which
she had spoiled in her efforts to write simple
letter. long ago when her sorrow was new
Long ago: Last night Happiness gives winrs
! of lightness to eternity DIVING about our bpinr
and so-calied time. rather than eternity) which
we roughly measure and called minutes and
seconds: but sorrow weights their noiseless feet
with lead.
! Mr.. George Fenhy is next among the actors in
thls ilttie fragment of human life.
lie mad sat st his window that morning as
Nice Arnden sat at hers. His window looked
III the same direction; from it he saw much the
same scene as she saw. The stars faded out for
him as for her; day frightened; the sunlight
fell across his face.
But he sat there with cheerful fire near him:
ne was strong from happy sleep; his eyes We're
bright and cheerful. ami looked as though tears
had always been strangers to them, and his lips
We're smiling.
The icy marshes seemed to him type of his
future. smooth, white. pnrc-thc light stretch
lng warmly across thenl--and with the ocean
outside standing to him. as to her. as a type of
eternity-an eternity which he felt would be one
OF strength and happiness
| George Fenby thought of what he had to be
thankful for this lovely morning A small for
Woman-and good AS iar-for his promised wife;
health. education. influence, friends, position; it
was indeed gOOdly prospect.
! inns man was strong and quick: good looking.
II not handsome. He looks like man who
would not do a wicked thing or think it. while
he might do weak Or foolish one He was a
man who would be likely to win woman's
heart-and hold it; a man whose love a woman
might prize. and the loss OF which she might
wisely mourn. Weak enough to be man, he
was strong enough to be one hard to win from
! the life which had once had him.
There was happy smile on his face as he
heard his little brother knock at the door, and
he answered Come in" In CHEEKY voice
! Heres a letter for yOu George"
| THANK YOU said George. as he took it,
| "1Ou are welcome. BY the handwriting on
the envelope judge the message will be pleas
ant one"
And the boy left the room.
pleasant message. The smile deepened on
the mans face as he lovingly handled the let ter
before he broke the seal. A pleasant message,
These were the words he read:
| Nh GEORGE FESBY will not consent to I've arly
longer hnderer regarding your higher anfitio'
never wish to speak with you aE.ifi all lit, give
+ 3ou back Your freedom. ALICE. AItNDES"
! So Mr. Fenby's morning Gift was the Gift Of
his freedom. What should he do with IT: His
Cheeks and lips grew cold and white at the
thought Merciiul heaven. What could he do
/ with it!
| The sky seemed darkened. the earth seemed
dreary and desolatc George Fenby and Alice
Arnden, q bare quarter of a mile APART conu
not have been more widely separated had an
! ocean stretched between them. And each
/ looked Oh the same landscape and saw it alike
at last
! The village OF Marshan was a small one. and
most of it was farther from the ocean than
We're the two houses at whose windows we
have seen two unhappy persons.
! lit was a relief TO both George and Alice that
there was service in the little church that morn
ing. and that everybody would be looked for
! there. Secret sorrow finds a certain abatement
of its intensity in the effort Of appearing uncon-
cerned. Then there Is mournful pleasure in
seeing what one has lost.
| In place no larger than Marsham every one
knows everybody else. Every one knows the
| business OF everybody else In some degree. or
thinks SO. and says so. So our two friends were
known, and their relations to each other were
| known also. And so poorly had they PLAYED
their parts that when service was finished
nearly all their friends had concluded that their
engagement was over, and many We're specu-
latlng as to the reason for it.
| Ralph Warder was too shrewd a man not to
| see What every one else saw. He said but little
about it, as he spoke to one and another after
| church, but he was deeply interested and very
much puzzled. The time had been when the
gOssips had connected his name with that of
| Alice Arnden, and there were those who had
shaken their heads when it became evident that
she had been won by George Fenby instead OF
by Ralph.
| never SPOKEN 20 Alice OF love. ana
we will respect his reserve. What he cared for
| her may remain a sealed book.
George Fenby walked home alone. Ralph
| Warder came the same road, but a quarter Of a
| mile behind him. Some distance out of the vii
lage Ralph suddenly came upon two papers,
resting on the snow by the side Of the road
They had most likely been pulled from the pocket
OF the owner in removing his handkerchief. The
smaller paper had blown apart; it lay upon the
other. and its contents Were so brief that Ralph
had read il before he was aware of what he was
doing We have seen the paper before. 1t was
| the brief letter in which Alice Arnden had dis
| missed George Fenby.
Ralph Warder stood for long time with the
| letter In his hand.
'1'ye read it once; 1t can do no harm to read
1t again. he said
| And he read it agan-not once --merely but
a dozen times. 1t seemed as If he was irving to
| draw something from the bit of paper which he
| did not find there.
| After time he stopped and picked up the
| other paper, long folded document, but the
action was merely mechanical one He did
| not open it to see what it was but with his
| head bent forward on his breast aud with very
grave face, he went on his way. He walked
more slowly than before; he sometimes stopped
| and he talked to himself from time to time
! 1T this is final, ;" he commenced aloud, and
| then relapsed into silence "a hinderer'"
Then after standing and thinking for awhile, he
| went on: 'She never was that to him. And she
|