Newspaper Page Text
2
THE SACRIFICE
By MRS. ODESSA S. PAYNE, Author of “Psyche” “How The East End Was Redeemed” Etc.
CHAPTER 111.
OUR years later Joan graduated with
the first honors of her class. Beth and
I went to the town in which the college
was located, and were happy witnesses
of that all important event. The crowd
was large, in the handsomely decorated
chapel, but I had eyes for nobody ex
cept the girl with bright colored hair,
who sat on the stage, in her snowy
F
robes, and looked like a queen that night—our own
Joan. The musical part of the program enchanted
me, but I waited with deep anxiety for my little
sister’s part in this drama, which was to close her
college life. It came, finally, and I was glad to
find that her theme was unique, “The Glory of
Personality,” and gladder e’en that she handled
the subject well, standing stately and gracious be
fore the vast throng, while she read in a clear voice,
with apparent unconsciousness of herself.
How proud I was of her! How thankful, that I
had given my youth up to toil, so that the triumph
of this night might be vouchsafed to all. I felt,
pardonably, that I had had something to do with
the glory of her personality, which was so charm
ingly revealed before the world. Beth whispered:
“Isn’t she magnificent? Who would have thought
so many beautiful ideas were stored away in that
precious head?”
“It took education to develop the gold,” I
answered, “but for you, Beth, she might have been
a common piece of quartz.”
Beth toyed with the lace upon her lilac sleeve.
“I was but a passing instrument; the sacrifice
and the beauty and richness of the reward, both
belong to her older sister.”
After I had gone down the chapel steps, I dis
covered that I had lost my program, and, as 1
wished to keep it as a souvenir of a most delightful
occasion, I turned back at once. After a brief
search I found it; but as I paused a moment to
watch the rapidly vanishing crowd, I saw a superb
figure leaning nonchalantly against one of the col
umns near the entrance. That fine chaste face,
those brooding, introspective eyes! Where had £
seen them before?
The floor rocked beneath my feet and I heard the
roar of the sea in my ears, but I stood serene and
signless, while the gentleman walked with swift
grace toward me.
“Miss Carrol, of Carrolwood?” he said interro
gatively, in a rich, restrained voice.
“Yes,” I returned graciously.
“I am Paul Hammond of Austin City, your moth
er’s attorney; perhaps you have heard her mention
me.”
“Frequently, Mr. Hammond. I am pleased to
meet you.”
“Thank you,” he replied.
Then he took the two huge bouquets I was car
rying for Joan and my light wrap, quite as a matter
of course, and we walked down the aisle together
like old friends.
“I met Mrs. Barret and your sister at the door,”
he said, “and I am commissioned to escort you,
with your permission, to the hotel.”
To stroll through the moonlight of a June night
with the man to whose mental self I was no
stranger was, certainly, a delight I had not thought
of, as a finis to this eventful day.
“How did you happen, Mr. Hammond, so oppor
tunely to discover us?” I asked, for he did not
seem to be in a conversational mood.
“Easily enough,” he replied calmly. “I wired
to my Uncle Harold Hammond, who corresponds
with Mrs. Barret, and asked where she would be
on this date. It was necessary for me to know,
for I have papers which I wish your mother and her
to sign. ’’
“Oh, I thought Beth told me everything,” I
said, “but she certainly has never mentioned your
uncle’s existence.”
“Perhaps, she eared too little or too much,” he
tie &old«n A<e for October 16, 111?.
returned, thoughtfully. “I am sure, however, that
their friendship is a great source of happiness to
them both. To be perfectly frank, Miss Carrol,
Harold has loved Mrs. Barret for many years.”
“Then why do they not marry?” I asked im
pulsively.
“Oh, I am no authority in the matter,” he
explained blandly, “but I think that while Mi’s.
Barrett enjoys Harold intellectually, she does not
approve of his agnosticism.”
“I think that I understand,” I answered thought
fully. “Beth is orthodox, and has the courage of
her convictions.”
“Yes, she is very interesting and lovely,” he
said, with a stress laid on the first adjective. ‘‘And
while I am sorry for Harold, I do not condemn her
in the least. Let us hope that the future will bring
them some adequate explanation of their problem.”
“Why not?” I returned, dreamily, “the happi
ness of a great many people belongs to tomorrow.”
“Possibly that of Miss Carrol and her escort?”
he said, interrogatively.
But I was glad that just at that moment we
reached the brilliantly lighted hotel, and I was
saved from the necessity of a reply.
On the way to the cars next morning, Beth
walked with Mr. Hammond, and Joan and I stop
ped to admire a very handsome which had
been recently erected on the college campus, by a
young man in honor of his mother. He had achieved
it all with the silver tongue of his eloquence in
the name of the cause he loved so well —education.
He had traveled far and wide and had not counted
his life dear unto him. “For others,” was this
young man’s motto, and the tears came into my
eyes, as I looked upon this magnificent evidence
of the enduring beauty of his work. And I was
glad to remember that I too had placed a flower
on the altar, where he had laid so many, until the
whole Southland was filled with the fragrance of
his life work.
Joan and I paused, by common consent, at the
foot of the marble steps, and my sister, glancing
up at the many storied building, whose windows
flashed in the early morning light, lifted her hand
and exclaimed with girlish enthusiasm:
“Some day, when my western heritage becomes
a reality, I will duplicate this building, wherever it
is needed in the South; and my sister will estab
lish a fund, whose interest will prevent any girl
from breaking her heart about an education, from
the Potomac to the Gulf.”
“Selah,” I said, with a slight laugh, but I shook
hands with the girl who looked so charming in her
blue linen dress and sailor hat. I would have em
braced her, if we had not been on the college
street.
When Mr. Hammond came forward to greet us at
the depot, I noticed with a thrill, that he was
dressed in a gray flannel suit; and he looked so
exactly like the young man I had met under the
magnolias at Carrolwood, that I threw a kiss, me
taphorically, at the square shoulders.
Our return trip was accomplished without any
specially significant incident. Mr. Hammond sat
with me, but he entertained all of us so delight
fully, that I should have been glad to ride on and
on forever.
When we arrived at Carrolwood, we found Bro.
Charles and his wife on the veranda, and a dis
tinguished looking gentleman, with iron gray hair,
whom Beth introduced with radiant graciousness as:
“My friend, Mr. Harold Hammond.”
After supper I put on my loveliest white dress,
and went down to the dear old library, where the
family and our guests were assembled. Joan had
been playing on the piano, for their entertainment,
but the music ceased scon after I put in an appear
ance. Mr. Harold Hammond ami his nephew were
standing with their backs to the flower-filled fire
place, and the former suddenly threw his arm across
the younger man’s shoulder.
'“Ladies and gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “my
modest nephew commissions me to announce that
he has at last won his long delayed case in the
Supreme Court of Texas. The Carrol heritage is a
bona fide fact, worth to the family here and now
assembled, with the accrued interest, about
$2,500,000.”
Bro. Charles cheered; Beth turned while as a
snow drift; Joan smiled; Mother’s eyes filled with,
tears; and I slipped out through the open window.
I felt that I must be alone. I was not thinking
of the money so much, as the magnificence of the
man who had won it.
I walked slowly to the great water oak where,
four years before, I had laid down the holiest am
bition of my life for the sake of my little sister.
And, looking up at the stars, I lifted my hands to
them.
“I am glad, exultingly glad, that once I surren
dered my all for the sake of another; and I give
thanks for the reward which has come in time to
redeem my own dream from destruction.”
How good God was to us! I realized that I was
much better fitted than I was four years before to
handle the power of money. I had toiled and suf
fered, and seen with my own eyes the woes of a
great city. After all, how dared I be anything
but a stewardess of the fortune which had come to
me ? How could I regard it, except as a trust fund
to be used largely for others? But my speculations
were suddenly interrupted.
“Miss Carrol,” said a deep, voice, “since 1 must
leave on the midnight train, 1 presumed to fol Id w
you and say —good-bye.”
Was it Paul Hammond who stood before me, look
ing very handsome, and just a little pale, in the
silvery moonlight?”
“I am sure,” I answered, “that mother and I,
and all the Carrols would be pleased if you would
make a longer stay at Carrolwood, Mr. Ham
mond.”
“Would you?” he asked, with emphasis on the
personal pronoun.
“Dee-lighted, as Teddy says,” I murmured, mis
chievously. “At least stay long enough for me to
congratulate you properly.”
“How long do you suppose that would take?” he
asked.
“The rest of the summer,” I countered bravely.
“I am sure,” I continued, “that after such a bril
liant victory, you need a vacation.”
“Do I —really? I feel as if I needed but
one thing: however, that involves a psychological
story. Have I your permission to relate it?”
“If it is interesting.”
“The story has something to do with those loiters
from Carrolwood.”
“Ah!”
“They came every week to me as a revelation of
the highest and loveliest type of womanhood. They
wore. I know, the utterances of a cultured intellect,
written by a girl, I early divined, who, witu afi her
love of progress and broad horizons, had not for
gotten to keep sweet. And then that other naieebss
charm of unique individuality, the delicate, irre
sistible humor, which pervaded all the letters and
flashed through all the woman’s learning.”
He paused and took both of my ham's in his, in
a quite masterful way.
“Is it any wonder that I lost mv heart to the
writer of those letters, or —that I —that I snonld
think- —four years of hard work a small thing to
win her?”
“Proposals are so funny—in books,” I ventured,
giving him a glimpse of my radiant face.
But he had pleaded before the Supreme Court of
Texas. He was as grave as the Chief Justice, when
he asked:
“Carolyn, what are you going to do with my
love ? ’ ’
“Keep it forever, Paul,” I replied meekly
enough, “if I can.”
The stars! Ah, me, the gleam and glory of those
betrothal stars, kept watch over our perfected hap
piness !
i Finis.
■ — — . u . 4
