Waterbury Democrat., 1902-12-05
If Love We're All
By ANNA cosULIcH.

slowly into the fire where the two red coals were being driven apart by tlie hungry yellow flame. The slave of Anlbition-to waver when she called! Perhaps they had been right to call him that, until the woman came. But now! Lydia had passed far across his hearts threshold. and it was for him to decide whether Lydia or Ambition had entered farther.
 Last year, it should have come last he would have been ready to go, and glad. He would have gone with Drahl- gen, aye, with the evil one himself, almost, that he might see and learn the things which nature has to teach to the men who dare.
 This offer to be one of an Antarctic exploration party was munificent apart from it's scientific advantages. Must he deliberately refuse it, remain ing in the narrow precincts of the un- versity out of choice-his own choice :? He laughed derisively at the bold yell low flame, restirsA his distracted head in his hands. The lovely face of Lydia Cameron, artist and woman, seemed to rise of the blaze.
 You or Ambition, Lydia?" he mutt tered. Ambition is cruel, stern and cold. You-how warm and sweet your wonanliness, how dear the witchery of your eyes and lips, howcomforting the sympathy of your low voice! Love is better than Ambition. It is-it is''
 He repeated the sentence as if not quite sure of it's finality. However, it proved to be his decision in the end.
 The next day, hesent a note of regret to Drahlgen. A few hours later, he sought Lydia's house. feeling strangely happy.
 The lights had just been turned on. The maid was giving the last touches to Lydia's tea table and Lydia sat by, smiling her approval. She heard a bounding step outside, hasty ring, then a hurried entrance. She glanced at the clock. It was too early for West Yet West it must be, for no one she knew entered her house with such zest.
 Yes, it was he. She smiled in greet ing, giving him the tips of her little, warm fingers. "
 ''This is so nice," she said. 1T was rather lonely at my solitaire tea party. Uncle Nat is out, and even the maid looked sorry for me. But, now that you have saved the situation, please tell me what it fs that makes you look so joyful this evening""
 No, he would not tell her yet. He smiled and said something foolish as he took the proffered cup. While he slipped it, he looked at her in strange, new way. She had different meaning to him since yesterdays dearer, full CT meaning than before. For had he not given up fame and wealth for her, for the soul behind those deep, gray eyes, for the beauty of that pale, sweet face framed by the dar.. hair? What mattered it that she did not know yet {? She would know soon, soon.
 With difficulty he restrained himself until the maid removed the cups and softly closed the door. And then he told his story, rushingly, like the leap of a torrent down the mountain side. Lydia's eyes softened, widened, as she stood there listening breathless. Sud- denly he stopped the torrent of words.
 J whispered, ready to clasp her in his arms at the slightest token of response from her.
 Instead, she covered her eyes with he long, artist fingers. With difficulty, she controlled that ominous swaying of her slender body. It was as though a precipice were at her feet.
 ''This silence, Lydia, what is t?" he asked, apprehenGyely.
 She gasped, then settled her face in a wan smile.
 eff love were all-' she began, but her voice failed her. He seized her wrist almost roughly.
 Love is all!" he exclaimed fiercely. "Do you think that fame and ambition are to be compared to love? You would throw me over for your work ? Lydia, Lydia, dearest, k me convince you that the woman is higher than the artisti"
 His voice was full of pleading. She shook her head woefully.
 No, nol'' at last she managed to ar ticulate. Tt is not my art, however love it. would not send you from me because of it.''
 He sank into the nearest chair, giving vent to groan of despair. Another had won the treasure of her heart while he had dallied.
 You do not love me, 7 he finally whis- pered. It was scarcely audible, that husky sentence which hurt so. She went swiftly to his side. She knelt by his chair to comfort him.
 T do love yo0 Ellis! I love you, oh. so much better than love my art
 He arose quickly and twitched his lips as if to speak, but she placed her fingers to them with q pathetic little gesture.
 Ut is useless, dcar," she began, srnil- ing sadly. What you would say, I do so long to hear-any woman would But it would make 1t harder for ne and for you. I too must leave so much unsafd, because-becauSe love iS not all! It is not the only thing. It may be greater than ambition, greater than art, greater than the others, but it is not greater than duty' She uttered the last phrase like sharp cry of pain.
 "Duty!'
 He was facing her, bewildered and niSera ble