For the first time since he had held her in his arms early that evening her reason asserted itself for a moment, and she pressed her hand over his lips to stifle the words. She had thought of poor little Marjory and her white face in the stream, and of a thousand other reasons why they should part. There were sacred promises on both sides to be kept. "But be mine," she pleaded, "just for tonight."
He held her in his arms; she was his very own, and she counted his heart-throbs as they beat against her breast. He scented the perfume of her breath against his cheek, and drank deep of the wine of her red lips, as she whispered again her sweet confession through a mist of tears…. "The Woman Thou Gavest Me!"
No one could better grace love's throne, nor rule more royally. Voice so low and tender and heart so warm, all herself she gave, and gladly, thoughtlessly, recklessly. Is it true that all humanity means to do right though often wrong: that the heart at times must obey the mandates of circumstances and environment: that even the purest and best succumb to temptation? Another day, and reason rules!
He was engaged to a girl who had been his little sweetheart as far back as he could remember. He had carried her books and pulled her sled and fought her battles, and now he surely would never break her heart. There is duty; an invention of the Devil, but it must be met, though hearts break and burn; though we wander through a desert of hallowed love and damning desire. This dream was to end. For months those two beings faced their little world with only a nod as they passed by; not even as much as a hand-clasp. Who can tell what the man thought, or if he cared? But the woman wept out her sorrow in my arms. Confession is good for the soul, so it is said; there is joy in a heartache sometimes, and sweet content in tears. She told me how she lay awake and listened for his footsteps. If he came into the room her heart would almost cease beating. She almost fainted once when she met him coming in with his fiancee… but in silence she suffered; pride and duty ruled.
"How exquisitely he tortures me," she said. "He uses roses as his weapons…. But what think you of this my friend? I shall bear his image into life! What matter laws and customs, and sins forbidden…. I shall be happy again when I hold my baby in my arms"….
So terribly shocked was I that I could only gasp in amazement, but when I looked into the face of the woman, behold…. the Madonna!
There seemed to be a spiritual light illuminating her face and she was far away in the land of dreams, looking into the face of her blue-eyed baby; born of a great, great Love, sacrificed to Duty. Life…. What a tragedy! Fate, did you say? Thank God for Time, the healer of all wounds. As someone has said: "Never a lip was curved in pain that could not be kissed into smiles again!"
Just half an hour before she was leaving Reno, as we were dropping the last of the little silver toilet articles into her small traveling bag, and gathering up the odds and ends here and there, the telephone rang. At Eileen's request I answered. A manly voice said: "Mr. Holbrook speaking; I would like to come and pay my respects to Mrs. Reed if she has a few minutes to spare, and will permit me!" Of course she would, poor girl; she looked as though heaven had suddenly opened and beckoned her enter. I left them alone.
Whatever was said must have taken the bitterness out of the parting, because it was a sweet-souled, courageous girl that joined me ten minutes later, to take her departure for life's everlasting battle fields; to begin anew. Perhaps she knew his love would crown the awaiting beyond with divine fulfillment……
When I saw her off on the Eastbound train, she answered my questioning look by taking a small photo from her bodice—"No, I have not forgotten," she said with a smile that was more tragic than all the tears the world has ever shed. "Here, next my heart, I shall carry my love always, but there is his duty and mine, and so much do I love him, that I want to bear all the pain myself…."