But the best society and all that it offers, as well as the amusements that cannot bear the light of day, pall on a man in time and that which is fine within him, silent, yet alive, cries for expression. When the flush of youth is over, life begins to look more profound and sometimes a bit somber, and then the stirrings of a man's heart are for a home and fireside, wife, and the voice of children, and he begins to look about him for a queen to reign in his home. And here, in making a choice of a life companion, men generally show a superiority over women. A woman, governed by her emotions and her desires, and taking a superficial view of the future, will give her heart, her honor and her life to a man, no matter what his past has been nor what his present is, if only he makes her fair promises for the future. But a man, when he chooses a wife, must know beyond the shadow of a doubt that the woman he honors is of spotless character.
Let no woman breathe one word to break down this high standard that man has set for womankind; but rather, let women demand of men that which men require of them.
Max Morrison desired for his wife a woman pure as the angels in Heaven; and this is what he believed Geraldine Vane to be. And after a long and intimate friendship he decided to win her for his wife. He fully realized the importance of the step, and he also realized that when a man has a past and there are places in that past where the sun has never shone, that phantom hands are liable to rise out of these dark places and lay a blighting finger on the beautiful, blameless future. Many times when his thoughts sought matrimonial byways, a vision of a dark, eager face with full, voluptuous lips and passion-filled eyes arose before him. There were times when he denounced himself as a fool whose folly had ruined his life. There had been good material in Margaret, as well as the fatal traits that had ruined her. Suppose her circumstances had been different, or that someone had lent her a helping hand; defended and protected her. What a woman she would have made! What a force in the world! Was there one in the world who could equal what she might have been? The thought was torture to him and he banished the dark face from his vision; it had not been pleasant to look upon the last time he had seen it, and Geraldine was the woman to be considered now. He consoled himself as best he could with the thought that no doubt Geraldine, with her placid temper and quiet, acquiescent ways, would lead a man a more comfortable life than would a passionate, spirited woman such as Margaret would have made.
Max was not exactly a vain man, but he had known many women and been repulsed by none. He had no serious apprehension that he might not be able to win the woman that he had decided to honor; but he desired to make his footing sure as possible, and he wished also to be honorable and irreproachable in his conduct toward this woman and her family. To this end he approached Mr. Mayhew on the subject.
"My friendship with your niece," he said to that gentleman, "is, as you know, of long standing. You have accorded me the greatest kindness and hospitality; now I ask your permission to pay my addresses to Geraldine as a suitor for her hand."
Mr. Mayhew's business instinct, always keen and shrewd, became at once active and alert. On general principles his policy was to conceal an advantage until he saw its consummation, and he saw no reason to depart from his usual course in this instance. And in his estimation a proposition would have to be questionable indeed if he could not from here and there bring in enough that was moral to make it tenable. However many dark places there might be in a course he wished to pursue, he never allowed himself to be too Puritanical to find some defensible ground on which to make a stand. He thought it very probable that Max did not know that Geraldine was a dowerless girl, absolutely dependent, and he had no compunctions that the fact had been well guarded. If Max wished to marry the girl, her fortunes ought to make no difference to him. And if Geraldine was willing to accept him for a husband, she could do as thousands of other women had done--overlook or ignore the past. Here, then, was the high tenable ground, and without any hesitation he took his stand. Yet in his heart he knew that if this fair girl beneath his roof had a fortune of her own he would see that she got a better man for a husband than this one to whom he now gave full and free consent to woo her.
Mr. Mayhew would like to have had the co-operation of his wife in influencing Geraldine to make her choice. He understood that Max expected him to use his influence to predispose the girl in his favor, and also that he desired him to palliate his past conduct, if there was need of palliation in Geraldine's mind. But Mr. Mayhew was too shrewd a man to see only one side of the question. His wife he believed to be one of the most satisfactory women in the world yet he realized that there were times when she was a power to be dealt with, and he believed it always better to circumvent a woman than to oppose her. He never attempted to lower her ideals of honor and morality; but he took it upon himself to see that they did not interfere with the practical advantages of life. Now he counted that all he could say in Max's favor would have less weight with Geraldine than that which his wife could say against him, if she cared to do so. And rather than risk having Geraldine consult with her aunt as to the suitability of Max as a husband, he decided to let her make the reply to the all-important question with as little premeditation as possible. And as though in response to his unspoken preference, Max did not delay his purpose long.
It was a stormy night in early winter, Max called at the Mayhew home and was shown into the library, where he found Geraldine deep in a volume of old-time valorous deeds. She had read of knights and chivalry and maidens fair and true until her heart throbbed with the spirit of the olden time, and that which is brave and fine in human nature lay uppermost in her mind.
She greeted her caller with a mingling of the fervor of a Joan of Arc and the sweet dignity of a Lady Jane Grey. Her eyes were bright, there was an unusual glow on her cheeks, and no queen ever wore a crown of gems and jewels more becoming than was Geraldine's crown of golden hair. She drew a chair to the fire for her caller.
"You were brave to face the storm," she said.