El Paso herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1901-1931, 1911-04-20
The Better Way
(By L. G. MoberIy.D

IN OUGLAS stood in the spring sun
light, his eyes looking down
into mine, his voice deep with
earnestness, the soft breeze ruffling
| his fair hair.
''Hilda, listen to me- he said, and in
his voice 1 could not help noticing a
new note of strength, of manliness.
/ You say I am only boy. You say
you could not give yourself to some
/ body so young. You say-and that is
the worst thing of all-you say you
want to live your own life. 1t is nom
sense to talk like that
TT is not nonsense" 1 flashed
around on him. TT is sense 1 love
my work as much as you love yours.
Why should 1 give it all up to be a
/ soldiers wife I want to be singer
a great singer. Ny voice
Your voice is wonderful" he broke
in, mo one wants to deny that; I least
of all. But your womanhood is more
wonderful than your voice, darling"
His voice dropped. Are you going to
sacrifice your womanhood to your ca
reer?"
'I can't have my life hampered, my
my career, 1 must live my individual
life. 1 agree with the poet, who said,
He travels the fastest who travels
alone I mean to travel alone"
Us fast travelling the only kind that
matters?" Douglas asked. and 1 saw
that his mouth set itself into deter
mined lines, whilst stern look came
into his blue eyes. And what is your
goal?'
Il want to make a huge success as
a singer" I answered, a touch of de-
-
Fame versus perfected womanhood,"
he said and the sternness in his eyes.
crept into his voice; fame versus a
Woman's kingdom"
do you look upon life with you as
a kingdom for me?'
He put his hands suddenly upon my
shoulders and held me with a grip that
almost hurt me-
Her man, her home her children
those make up the kingdom of a good
woman he said slowly; "of anyone
worthy to bear the name Of woman
at ALL.
Then perhaps 1 am not worthy of
the name, 1 said, pulling my
self away from him and speaking
angrily; Il mean to live my own life.
I can't be hampered. 1 shall travel
alone. Why can't you and I be just
friends, as we were before?'
Because I don't want your friend
ship" Douglas answered roughly. 81
want your love- There can't be COM
promise about it. 1t has got to be all
or nothing. I want you for my wife,
and if you will not be that, then this
is the end"
''You understand, Hilda," he added.
this is the end. unless you can do
what 1 wish"
For a moment 1 did not answer him;
my eyes wandered round the land\ii
scape and when my glance came back
to Douglass white face my eyes were !
as hard as my heart.
Certainly, 1 understand" was my i
cold response; "our pleasant friendship |
is to end today, because you will not /
be satisfied with my friendship"
Most assuredly I will not be salts |
fed" he replied holly, you are choos- |
ing today between your career and !
me. If you choose your career-well |
and good; I go out of your life for ,
ever. This is the end Only, Hilda"- !
his voice shook-remember to travel |
alone is very dreary work; very desc 1
late. sometimes sad
st am not afraid" 1 said. Some
day when you hear of Hilda Merivale,
the great singer, remember that shall |
have attained my hearts desire
The rest of that afternoon is a
blurred memory to me. I only know
that Douglas went away, his tall figure
striking over the downs in the sun
light. the pressure Of his hand SEEM
ng to finger on mine long after he
himself had passed from my sight over
he brow of the hill.
Our friendship dated from the time
when his widowed mother had taken a
house in our own little country town
lose to my fathers house; but now
Douglas had spoilt it all He was go
ng to India; he wanted me to go with
Tim as his wife, and 1 was ambitious.
The great hall echoed and reechoed
With the noise of applause. Men rose
o their feet and shouted "Bravoi
3ravor' And as again and again
,ame to the edge of the platform and
bowed my acknowledgements my heart
welled with the triumphant thought,
It was worth ALL" Flowers filed my
lrms, flowers were piled about my
eet, clapping and cheers followed me
'ack into the artists room. where my
elbow perfoNners pressed round me to
fer their congratulations. 1t was a
uccess; it was more than a success
t was a triumph. Hilda Merivale, the
niger, was made.
walked 10 my carnage along |
ane of eager onlookers, anxious to I
atch a glimpse of the new singer,
Tho had leapt into public favor. AS
drove back to the rooms where ]
we'd with an elderly cousin as chap
ron, I laughed softly to myself my !
ands wandering over the heaped-up {
overs that filed every available corr
er of the vehicle.
And instead of this Douglas wanted
ne to merge my life and individuality {
n his" 1 said aloud. II wish he
ould have been there tonight. Then
e would have understood"
Cousin Bessie was sitting up for me.
had prevented her from g
oming to the concert, but her kind 6
Id face greeted me as 1 entered our
tting-room, the cabman staggering I
fter with me with armloads of flow /
RS. g
ooh, my dearl" the kind old darling .
reclaimed, "oh. my dearl" and to my t
1rprise saw that there were tears in
er eyes. '
you mustn't cry, Cousin Bessie 1
aid laughingly. Il hope this is only a
lie first of lots of equally exciting