The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1891-11-25
A GREAT TEMPTATION


select for heroine becau, Of her person.
atty. She was neither large nor small; she
was beautiful, l think beauty is a hard
thing to define and limit, but it was a
beauty OF no wonderful or unusual type,
and was of that kind which grows on one
gradually, as his knowledge of the pos
SCISSOR OF it grows. There was wealth Of
sweetness aud purity shining up in her
eyes, which tears could never wash out, and
the mouth indicated firmness and resolu-
ton. which had its beginning long before
the nights vigil which had left it so sternly
agoniZed.
The trouble which has come TO Alice Arm
deu is Of no unusual kind. 1t is sudden
sorrow, which has crushed out all hope in
life many times in the past. and will many
times in the future as long as men and
maidenS are proud and wllltul. One may
say, "ouly lovers quarrel" but should re-
member that there are heart tragedies IN
this world, under the torture of when men
and women drag out long lives without find
ing peace. To Alice Arnden 1t 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 how much she was suffering
physically; how cold it was, how cramped
and weary she was. There was really little
10 do. Her bed had not been used; her
room was in order. She had plenty OF time
to prepare herself for the task OF covering
her sorrow from the gaze of her friends
if she could.
She made fire, and into the ire she re-
morsely put all the fragments of paper
which she had spoiled in her efforts TO write
a simple letter long ago when her sorrow
was new. Long ago? Last night! Hap
pIness gives wings Of lIshtness TO eternity
dying about our being and so-called time
rather than eternity, which we roughly
measure and call minutes and seconds; but
SORROW weights their noiSeless feet with
lead.
Mr.. George Fenby was next among the
actors in this little fragment of human life.
He sat at his window that morning as
Alice Arnden sat at hers. His window
looking in the same direction; from it he
saw much the same scene she saw. The
stars fsded out for him as for her; day
frightened, the sunlight fell across his
face.
But he sat there with cheerful fire near
him; he was strong from happy sleep; his
eyes were bright and cheerful, and looked
a though tears had always been strangers
in them, and his lips were smiling.
The icy marshes seemed TO him type Of
the future. Smooth, white, pure-the light
stretching across them-and with the ocean
outside Standing u U!ll, dS 70 uGI, Il " pc Of
eternity-an eternity which he felt would
lie one Of strength and happiness.
George FeHby thought of what he had to
be thankful for, this lovely morning. a
small fortune, enough for himself-and one
other, fair woman, as good AS faiT-foT his
promised wife; health, education, friends,
influence, position; it was indeed a goodly
prospect.
This man was strong and quick; good
looking, if not handsome. He looks like a
man who would not do wicked thing, or
think il, while he might do weak or fool
ish one. He was man who would be
likely TO win a wOman's love-and hold II :;
a mar whose love 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 ife which had once d him.
There was a happy smile on his face as he
heard his little brother knock at the door,
and he answered come In" in a CHEEKY
voice.
Here's 'er for you, George"
Thank you, said George, as he took it.
''Yuu are welcome. By the handwriting
on the envelope l judge the message will be
pleasant one"
And the boy left the room.
A pleasant messagel And the smile de ep-
ened on the mans face as he lovingly ham
died the letter a little time before he broke
the seal a pleasant message
These were the words he read:
Mr.. George Fenby-I Will not consent to be
any longer hlnderer regarding your "higher
ambition" l never wish TO speak with you
again III my HE. give you back your freedom.
ALICE ARNDEN.
So Mr.. Fenby's morning gift was the
GIFT of his freedom. What should he do
with it? His checks and lips grew cold and
white at the thought Merclful heavens
What could he do with 1t?
the sky seemed darkened, the earth
seemed dreary and desols;e. George Fenby
and Alice Arnden, bare quarter of mile
apart, could not lave been more widely
separated had an ocean stretched between
them. And each looked on the same land
scape and saw alike at last.
The village Of MarSham was small one,
and most of it was farther from the ocean
than were the two houses at the windows
of which we have seen two unhappy per-
sons.
1t was relief to both George and Alice
that there was service in the little church
that morning. and everybody could BE-
looked for there. Secret sorrow finds a
certain abatement of its intensity in the
effort of appearing unconcerned. Then
what one has lost.
In place no larger that Marsham every
body knows everybody else. Every one
knows the business Of everybody else in
some degree, or think so. and says 80. Sc
ouT two friends were known, and their re-
lations 10 each other were known also. And
so poorly had they played their parts that,
when service was finished nearly all their
friends bad concluded that their engage.
ment was over, and many were specializing
as 10 the reason for it.
Ralph Warden was too shrewd man moi
to See what every one saw. He said but
little about 1t, as he spoke to one and an
other after church, but he was deeply in
terested aud very much puzzled. The time
had been when the gossips had connected
In unit n hat aF
there were those VINO had shaken their
heads when it became evident that she had
been won by George Fenby instead Of
Ralph
Ralph had never spoken TO Alice OF love,
and We will respect his reserve. What be
cared for her may remain sealed book.
George Fenby walked home alone. Ralph
Warden came the same road, but quarter
Of q mile behind him. Some distance out Of
the village Ralph suddenly came upon two
papers, resting on the snow by the side o.
the road. They had most likely been pulled
from the pocket of the owner in removing
his handkerchief. The small paper haC
blown apart, it lay upon the other, and III
contents were so brief that Ralph read i
before he had taken it in his hand, and be
fore 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 Warden stood for long time will
the letter in his hand.
I've read it once; 1t can do no harm t
read 1t again." he said.
And he read it again-not once merely
but dozen times. 1t seemed as if he wa
trying to draw something from the bit o
paper which he did not find there.
After time he stopped and picked I'D til,
other paper, long folded document, bu
the action was merely a mechanical one
He did not open it to see what it was. bn
with his head bent forward on his breast
and with very grave face, he went on hi
way. He walked more slowly than before
he sometimes stopped, and he talked I
himself from time To time.
''If this is final" he commenced aloud
and then relapsed into silence. "a hin
derer.'" Then, after standing and think
ing for awhile, he wentsn: "She never wa
that to him. And she never was moody an
seif-dstrustful."
He thought for many minutes now.
al don't understand what she means b
his higher ambition His higher ambitio
lately seems tu have been to win her. 1t ha
cost her great deal To give him up-an,
one can see that with half an eye. And h
freedom is not welcome to him; he neiths
wanted il or expected il"