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Read Ebook: The Great Experience by Farr Julia
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Ebook has 1597 lines and 37368 words, and 32 pages
A glimmer of hope shot from Will's fine, dark eyes.
"You're even better than I thought you," he returned simply, and the two men parted without further remark.
As George was about to leave, Alma met him in the foyer.
"Good-bye little girl," he said gravely, "Will doesn't seem very well to-night. Don't keep him up too late, will you?"
"No, indeed. You notice then, how ill he looks?" she asked, her anxiety lending a pathos to her beauty.
"Yes, he needs a rest and no worry of any kind. I'll step in tomorrow. Good-night," and, fearing to lengthen the conversation, he left quickly.
Alma found Will, leaning forward in his chair, and gazing into the fire with a morbid intensity. So great was his absorption, that he didn't hear her enter the room. She crossed over to him, and, leaning over his chair, gently she raised his head and laid it back against the cushions.
He started slightly. "You Alma?" he said wearily. "Our pleasant little evening is over dear. You had better retire now for I must have an hour or two alone--to puzzle out a business proposition before I can sleep."
"O, Will, you are too tired. George said that you should retire early."
As she spoke, she caressed his forehead and he closed his eyes in gratitude.
After a moment he opened them upon her fondly.
"George himself gave me the problem to solve," he said gently, "I cannot sleep now. Go to dreamland, dearest, and don't make it harder for me by disputing."
"Good-night, then, if you won't come. But don't exhaust yourself, Will."
For answer he drew her down and pressed her closely to his breast.
"Good-night, Alma,--dear little wife," he said in passionate low tones. "Whatever comes, dearest, remember I have always loved you to distraction. You believe it?"
"Yes, yes. I know it, Will. Of course you have."
His strange mood disconcerted her and she was glad to go.
Kissing him lightly, she left the room, turning at the door to say smilingly,
"Remember dear, you must not linger long."
Left alone, George's words came more forcibly to Will's tortured brain.
He had thought of one alternative to-night. It had come to him at first as a wild intangible thought, born of despair. But it gradually took shape and became proportionate to reason; he had walked the streets for an hour, courting its possibility.
For one hour he debated with himself, ever bringing excuse to bear upon excuse. Finally his decision came, swift and certain. Alma must be spared the long misery of trial and imprisonment. Yes, at all costs, Alma first.
He arose quickly and went to his desk.
His hand trembled as he took the paper and placed it for writing. But he was none the less resolved for this physical weakness.
The first letter he wrote and rewrote many times.
Finally he finished it and addressed it to Alma.
The second he wrote hurriedly and without recopy. This was to George Cadman. Both letters he left on his desk.
From a small table he took two pictures--one of Alma, one of Harold--and slipping them into his pocket, he hastily made for the door. Turning suddenly, he swept the room with one comprehensive longing glance, then with a heavy sigh he disappeared.
Edith's Choice.
From childhood, Edith Esterbrook had known George Cadman. The fact that he was ten years older than herself, rather strengthened their friendship than otherwise.
As years brought her development into womanhood, Cadman was not slow to realize and appreciate her attractions. He loved Edith with a strong devotion, which her young experience did not value. During the last year several had proposed marriage to her, but for a long time, George alone was not repulsed. To him she had not yet said a decided "No." She felt sure that her friendship's love was not the right kind of love for marriage, but she dreaded to part with him, and so, with an unconsciously selfish postponement of the final word, she had kept him by her side.
But the last month had brought a change into her life. She had met one whom she thought she could be happy in marrying,--one Howard Hester, who loved her passionately at first sight, and declared his love soon after. He was immensely rich. Riches alone could not tempt Edith, but he also seemed to possess a character which could adore her without the slightest criticism. He gained her confidence quickly. To him she confided all her noble aspirations, all her plans and projects for doing charitable work. To all he acquiesced, encouraging anything that would add to her joy in life, and declaring his fortune at her feet. All he asked in return was for himself to be her first thought and love.
What an ideal life! Edith could think of nothing nobler. It was a shock to her parents when she declared her desire to marry Howard. She was entirely too young, and many other objections were given. But all were promptly overcome by the tactful Howard, and consent was finally gained.
Edith decided to personally tell George before her engagement was announced, and to this intent she asked him to call that evening.
As she waited for him in her parlor, she gave herself up to contrasting him with Howard.
"George is a dear," she thought regretfully, "I hope that he gets over his fondness for me soon. Strange that he seldom agreed with me in any opinion. Wonder why he cared for me? Always ready to correct me--so different from Howard! After marriage, I suppose I would have to submit every plan to George for approval, and abide by his decision. Howard is so willing to agree and so much more loving."
But with all her satisfied persuasion, Edith felt a strange pang with the thought that this evening would be the last alone with her life-long friend.
When he entered, she arose to meet him with her customary frankness.
"I have been waiting for you to call this past week as usual, but as you didn't come I felt at liberty to send for you."
"Always, Edith," he said pressing her hand. "At any time or place, I am at your command. No one knows that better than yourself."
The meaning of his direct gaze was only too positive, and Edith felt suddenly overcome with pity and constraint. How could she tell him of her engagement, when he did not even suspect it? She colored hotly and dropped her gaze.
"My absence this week has been unavoidable," George continued, as they both sat down opposite to one another. "You have heard of my cousin, Will Lambert, and I believe you have met his wife occasionally?"
"O, yes, only a week ago I attended an afternoon affair at her home. What a pretty, attractive woman she is!"
Walter's face became grave, and his eyes looked unutterable sadness.
"O, Edith, if you could only see her now! Poor little wreck of womanhood! She is undergoing unbearable sorrow!"
Edith's eyes shot instant interest.
"O, tell me her trouble," she exclaimed quickly, forgetting the object of her bidding him to call.
"Her husband got into pretty deep trouble, and to avoid her going through the long trial and imprisonment, he committed suicide by drowning."
"Yes," George continued, "he has left it to me to try to hush it up so that his wrong-doing wouldn't become public gossip. For a week Eve tried every sort of pleading and bribery, but all of no avail,--to-morrow's newspapers will print the whole story, with as much exaggeration as they can possibly invent. Poor little Alma will be more distracted than ever!"
"O, how cruel it all seems!" exclaimed Edith, entering into his mood of passionate pity. "How I wish I could go to her!"
George's eyes flashed understanding. "And why not? A woman needs a woman's sympathy. She has no woman relative and her mother died five years ago."
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