The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1893-01-19
CHAPTER Nv.
THE FIRST STEP.

THE FIRST STEP.
At home, all that night, Maisie lay
awake in her bed, and thought it all
out with herself, and felt sure she un.
derstood it. Jose was in love with
her. Jose appreciated her. Only once
in her life had she met man worthy
OF her: and that man had fallen in
love with her, as she with him, just
as naturally as two mountain tor
rents meet and rush together. His
wife alone stood in the way-his mad
wife; and her own mother! If Jose
had but money, he could get rid of his
wife. If the mother were out of their
road, Jose could have money. There
lay her Had in nutshell. Jose must
have money.
She rose up early, and consulted
her accounts. Maisie had always an
ample allowance, for her mother was
generous to her; in fact she idolized
her. Maisie admitted to herself, even
then, that she could do as she liked
with Mamma. Any way the accounts
were satisfactory. Her balance was
big. She took out her cheque-book
and wrote a cheque to Self or Bearer
for five hundred dollars. For
drawing it in the name of
Jose Mansfield. But she enclosed
it in an envelope addressed to him
at his hotel; and with it she sent q
folded sheet of paper bearing the sug-
gestive words: "For preliminary
legal expenses-Maisie."
That evening, as usual, she met him
again. Oh. how she dreaded that
meeting. Her hand was tremulous.
But Jose took it as frankly and open
ly as ever. His great eyes turned on
hers and flooded her with their light.
But not a gleam of recognition, of
conscious conspiracy was there. Had
he received her note, she wondered,
trembling. Well, at any rate, he was
not angry. That was at least re-
lief. He accepted it as it was meant
an interchange of friendly service be-
tween two higher natures. And his
talk was more high-fown than ever
that evening. He spoke to her in q
certain easy rotound flow of speech
that passed with him for rhetoric,
Tor poetry, far imagination of the
elective affinity that bound great
souls together, of the nothingness of
conventional laws that stove in vain
to part them.
"Let me not to the marriage of true
souls admit impeachment" he said
lightly after Shakespeare. Maisie took
him to mean that he accepted her gift,
and intended to apply it in the way
she desired him.
Yet it didn't seem sordid-trom her
to him, not sordid.
For he spoke to her also of the van
ity of gold-mere earthly dross that
passes, soiled, from hand to hand
what matter if it be nominally yours
or mine so we enjoy it equally? What
matter who calls himself the owner of
some noble estate? 'The fancied pro-
prietor owns but the dirt in the ditch
es." he said, waving his hand: "the
sky, the air, the distant hills, the
snow-clad Sierras-these, these are
not his, but yours and mine, Maisie!"
And Maisie thought nobody ever
spoke like him on this earth. She
could take it all in, yet admire it as
she took it. So commonplace was the
thought, so large was the utterance.
That's the secret of these cheap and
effective displays. You say what
everybody can feel, or think, or un-
derstand, in language q little more
ample than everybody gives to it. To
be truly great is to say or do what
the world must reject when it learns
it.
She went home again, whirling
This thing should be done. 1t was
hard to do it; but for Jose's sake!
Yet first she must see whether he had
taken her money.
Next morning, therefore, very
shame-faced she called at her banker
and asked for her account. They
brought her the ledger. Her heart
rose in her mouth; the cheque was
entered He had cashed it, sure
enough. Cashed it the very same day
he received it.
She hardly knew whether she was
glad of that or not. He accepted; so
far, well. But still-had her idol feet
of clay, she wondered? A little more
hesitation, a little more delicacy-but
there, it was Jose, and we mustn't
judge these great souls by mere stand
ards.
On her way home she called-an un.
usual call for her-at the Smithsonian
Institute. In the library there she
remembered to have noticed @ GER
tain book. She took the book down
and skinned several pages. It dis
hearened her, rather.
Then she went home, all trembling,
Mamma was in the drawing.room.
General Folger who lost his second
wife November before last. A widow
er, mind you, is always dangerous.
Besides, Maisie noticed they seemed
Hurried as she entered. A conscious
look skulked in her mothers bland
eyes. Maisie grew pale as death. This
at least must be prevented! The last
straw was added that breaks the
camel's back. To lose her prospect,
i've fortune, and be General Folger's
step-daughter And that when she
might have been Joe Mansfield bridel
Distressing or not she must brave the
Symptomsl
And they were distressing, as mat.
GcE vi IdCti very uISlE6SSlnS lHue6u
She didn't for moment conceal from
herself the knowledge that they wrunG
her heart terribly. She was fond o.
Mamma, really fond OF poor Mamma
AS she understood fondness. 1t
gave her the same sort of pans
to have to do 1t that gives a
sensitive person to have to shoot an
old horse who has served him we'll
or to get rid ofssa pet dog who has
lain long on the hearth-rug. But
for Jose's sake she could do or suffer
anything. And she suffered a great
deal. At times. heartrending
70 BE eoHTINUEn,