"Dear Diana:"Sophie has told me of your plan—your wonderful plan which has to do with my work and with me, and which shall link our futures in an interest which shall be above reproach."It was like you to think of it, and I shall not try to thank you. Indeed you will not want my thanks. You and I are beyond conventional concealments, and you know, as I know, that the thing which you are doing is for your own happiness as well as for mine, and I am glad that it is so, because your happiness is the thing which I most desire."I have not wanted to think of you up there in the hills. You belong to the sea, dear girl, and I know you are missing it, as we are missing you. I know, too, that, as you read this, you will say: 'He is overstepping bounds. He must not write these things to me.' But I am going to write them, Diana, for the time has come when we must face the big truths, and let the half-truths go."The big truth is this—that you and I love each other. The half-truth is—that Bettina loves me, and that I must not break her heart."I am troubled about Bettina. Certainly the child is not happy. All of her brightness has left her. She is pale and thin, and I am too wise a physician of bodies not to know something, too, of hearts. You may say that my attitude has affected her; that she had felt instinctively the difference in me. Butit is not that. I am sure it is not that. When I asked her to-night if there was anything between us, she faltered that she had something to tell me that she would write."Perhaps I should wait until her letter comes, but I cannot wait. You are so vividly with me at this moment, Diana, that I can almost hear your voice calling above the noise of the wind and waves. I can see you as I like you best—all in white. I can feel your presence as I felt it that night in the empty house as you stood on the threshold of that moonlighted room."Oh, dear girl, come back to me. I must have you in my life. Otherwise it will be a thwarted life—and a lonely one. For whether you marry me or not, I will not marry Betty. I do not love her, and she shall not spend her days as the unloved wife of one whose thoughts are all with a wonder-woman up in the hills."Can't you see it as I do? We must not so profane marriage, Betty and I. There is no idea of honor so false as that which holds a man or a woman to a promise which has ceased to have a vital and a vivid meaning."No man has a right to plan for a home unless Love is to be the corner-stone. These things are sacred, and not to be spoken of except to those who understand. But my love for you and your love for me would form a barrier against all the sweet and tender meanings for Betty of wifehood and motherhood."That's the plain truth of it. I'm a blunt man, and I've said it as it has come to me after days of pondering."I am not saying these things that I may marry you. I am saying them because they are true. Surely we can find a way to make Bettina happy. Her youth and loveliness must always win love. The hearts of the boys at the club are all under her little feet, and Justin—oh, if I only dared hope that she could care for Justin——"But marry her I will not, even if I go alone through life."For me you are the One Woman, Diana. In these days of separation from you I have thought of many things, but of none more than this: that we men, having loved one woman, deceive ourselves, when we lose her, with the thought that another like her may be found—but she is never found, and so we go through life half-men, unsatisfied, with hungry hearts."There's a big storm coming. I wish you might go down to the beach and walk with me in the wind. How often we have walked together in beating storms, Diana, and have gloried in them—so we would face the storms of life together; so I cannot face them with any other—or alone."Oh, girl, come back to me. I need you. I must have you. Iwillhave you. You are mine.Anthony.
"Dear Diana:
"Sophie has told me of your plan—your wonderful plan which has to do with my work and with me, and which shall link our futures in an interest which shall be above reproach.
"It was like you to think of it, and I shall not try to thank you. Indeed you will not want my thanks. You and I are beyond conventional concealments, and you know, as I know, that the thing which you are doing is for your own happiness as well as for mine, and I am glad that it is so, because your happiness is the thing which I most desire.
"I have not wanted to think of you up there in the hills. You belong to the sea, dear girl, and I know you are missing it, as we are missing you. I know, too, that, as you read this, you will say: 'He is overstepping bounds. He must not write these things to me.' But I am going to write them, Diana, for the time has come when we must face the big truths, and let the half-truths go.
"The big truth is this—that you and I love each other. The half-truth is—that Bettina loves me, and that I must not break her heart.
"I am troubled about Bettina. Certainly the child is not happy. All of her brightness has left her. She is pale and thin, and I am too wise a physician of bodies not to know something, too, of hearts. You may say that my attitude has affected her; that she had felt instinctively the difference in me. Butit is not that. I am sure it is not that. When I asked her to-night if there was anything between us, she faltered that she had something to tell me that she would write.
"Perhaps I should wait until her letter comes, but I cannot wait. You are so vividly with me at this moment, Diana, that I can almost hear your voice calling above the noise of the wind and waves. I can see you as I like you best—all in white. I can feel your presence as I felt it that night in the empty house as you stood on the threshold of that moonlighted room.
"Oh, dear girl, come back to me. I must have you in my life. Otherwise it will be a thwarted life—and a lonely one. For whether you marry me or not, I will not marry Betty. I do not love her, and she shall not spend her days as the unloved wife of one whose thoughts are all with a wonder-woman up in the hills.
"Can't you see it as I do? We must not so profane marriage, Betty and I. There is no idea of honor so false as that which holds a man or a woman to a promise which has ceased to have a vital and a vivid meaning.
"No man has a right to plan for a home unless Love is to be the corner-stone. These things are sacred, and not to be spoken of except to those who understand. But my love for you and your love for me would form a barrier against all the sweet and tender meanings for Betty of wifehood and motherhood.
"That's the plain truth of it. I'm a blunt man, and I've said it as it has come to me after days of pondering.
"I am not saying these things that I may marry you. I am saying them because they are true. Surely we can find a way to make Bettina happy. Her youth and loveliness must always win love. The hearts of the boys at the club are all under her little feet, and Justin—oh, if I only dared hope that she could care for Justin——
"But marry her I will not, even if I go alone through life.
"For me you are the One Woman, Diana. In these days of separation from you I have thought of many things, but of none more than this: that we men, having loved one woman, deceive ourselves, when we lose her, with the thought that another like her may be found—but she is never found, and so we go through life half-men, unsatisfied, with hungry hearts.
"There's a big storm coming. I wish you might go down to the beach and walk with me in the wind. How often we have walked together in beating storms, Diana, and have gloried in them—so we would face the storms of life together; so I cannot face them with any other—or alone.
"Oh, girl, come back to me. I need you. I must have you. Iwillhave you. You are mine.
Anthony.
The letter dropped from her fingers. She hid her face in her hands. His call echoed thunderingly in her ears. But she must not listen; she must not.
She yielded for the moment, however, to the sweetness of his insistent demand. Curled up inthe warm little hollow she dreamed of the things which might be—putting off, as long as possible, the moment of decision.
The other letters lay unheeded at her feet. All friendship seemed futile at such a time. What could Sophie, or Bettina or Justin say which could match those burning words of her lover?
THE OTHER LETTERS LAY UNHEEDED
The sun, rising higher, filtered through the branches and fell like golden rain upon the surface of the pool—the purple shadows gave way to emerald vistas; a trail of honey-bees traveled unerringly toward a hidden honey store. It was high noon in the forest!
Diana, waking to the fact that the hours had flown, gathered up her other letters, and opened the one on top of the pile. It was Justin's. What could he have to say to her, this boy who lived his life so lightly?
But when she had read the scrawled words she sat staring at them, hardly believing the things which had been written.
"Dear Lady:"Betty Dolce told me last night of her engagement to Anthony. But it was too late. You see it has come to this: that there isn't any one inthe world for me but Betty—she's so little and young and sweet, and she has waked up the man in me, and that's what no other girl has ever done."But she won't break her promise, and last night I left her crying, and I can't stand the thought of it. I just can't stand it. When it was only I who suffered, I could get along, but now—why, it's Betty's happiness against all the rest."Am I doing a dishonorable thing, Diana, when I ask her to tell Anthony the truth?"You shall decide for us. I cannot think clearly; I love her too much.Justin.
"Dear Lady:
"Betty Dolce told me last night of her engagement to Anthony. But it was too late. You see it has come to this: that there isn't any one inthe world for me but Betty—she's so little and young and sweet, and she has waked up the man in me, and that's what no other girl has ever done.
"But she won't break her promise, and last night I left her crying, and I can't stand the thought of it. I just can't stand it. When it was only I who suffered, I could get along, but now—why, it's Betty's happiness against all the rest.
"Am I doing a dishonorable thing, Diana, when I ask her to tell Anthony the truth?
"You shall decide for us. I cannot think clearly; I love her too much.
Justin.
What had inspired Justin to write to her like that? Did Betty know? Did Sophie? She went to the reading of the other letters eagerly, and when at last they lay before her, and the whole pitiful little story was revealed, the tears were running down her cheeks. Oh, the unhappiness of the dear young hearts—and the happiness which was to come!
Those who had assembled on the porch of the hotel in the before-luncheon hour were struck by something unusual in the bearing of the Beautiful Lady as she came toward them. All the listlessness of the morning had gone. Her head was up and she walked swiftly, lightly.
"She makes me think of the 'Winged Victory,'" was the comment of the observant artist. "She gives the same impression of triumphant motion."
At other times Diana had rather resented the inspection of the people on the porch. But to-day all of the faces looked friendly—she felt that she would like to say to them all, "I am going home to be happy." But what she really did was to bow somewhat shyly, and to go on with flaming cheeks.
The artist looked after her. "I wonder if she knows that she belongs to the goddess type of the Golden Age," he said, and sighed.
It was just at dusk that Diana stepped once more within the borders of the enchanted forest, and sought the warm little hollow beside the pool. In her filmy gown of midnight blue she moved like a shadow among deeper shadows—her neck and shoulders gleaming white.
About her were all the eerie noises of the dark, the little, little sounds of little, little things.
"Good-bye," Diana whispered, "good-bye—dear forest."
The sounds seemed to swell triumphantly into a love song—the weird and wonderful song of thenight. From bush and branch call answered call, mate invited mate; all the wild things of the wood were voicing their need, each of the other.
So the Beautiful Lady left behind her the sheltered hollow in the wood, and turned her face toward the sea with its beating storms, and she turned with gladness.
It was late the next afternoon when she came at last to her home on the harbor.
Sophie, warned by a telegram, was waiting for her.
"Oh, dearest dear," she said, as they embraced each other in the garden, "you beauty! Why, Diana, you don't look a day over twenty."
"I'm so happy, Sophie. Happy women are always young. Oh, I've so much to tell you. Your letter came with all the other letters. How silly we have been! That's the way with half the troubles in life. How easy it would be to be happy if only we could look into the minds of other people."
Peter Pan, hearing Diana's voice, came to them, tumultuously, leaping above the nasturtium borders and the brilliant flower beds.
Diana picked him up. "Think of it, Peter," she said, in her thrilling voice; "you're going to live up the road with me for all the rest of your life—in Anthony's house, and I am going to live there, too."
Sophie gasped. "Oh, has it come to that?"
"It has come to everything that means happiness," Diana answered. "Let's go up-stairs, Sophie, where we can talk."
As they entered the house Delia came to meet them. Her face lacked its usual beaming welcome. "Oh, my dear," she said, "I'm glad to see you so much better, but it is a sad errand which has brought you."
"Sad—what do you mean, Delia?"
The two women exchanged glances, and Sophie faltered, "Didn't you get my telegram, Diana?"
"Telegram—no, I've heard nothing."
"It's Justin. He's dreadfully hurt. His air-ship fell, and Anthony has him at Harbor Light."
She sketched the details. "Betty is there. Anthony won't let any one see him. But he thinks Betty should be within call."
"Oh, Sophie, is it as bad as that——?"
"It is about as bad as it can be, Diana."
When they had talked it over, it was decided that Diana should call up Anthony and ask to see Betty at Harbor Light; when she had given the telephone number she found herself shivering with expectation. In a moment she would hear his voice!
She was told, however, that Dr. Blake was out on an important case; that he would not be back until late.
"Perhaps I'd better wait until he returns before I make any plans," Diana told Sophie, and then Sara came in—a subdued Sara, with much of her sharpness modified, and they had dinner together, and were served by the adoring Delia.
After dinner Diana grew restless, and, wandering alone in the garden, found her feet straying in the direction of Anthony's house on the rocks.
Peter Pan followed her, and waited for her when she went in, having learned caution from his last imprisonment.
Diana knew where the key was kept, and felt for it behind a cornice. She let herself in and shut the door behind her. The lights from the street lamps showed that some pieces of furniture had been placed since her last visit. There were rugs beneath her feet. On the table in the hall was the end of a candle in a quaint silver holder, and a cup contained matches.
She lighted the candle, and made a tour of the lower floor. In the living-room she set two big chairs side by side on the hearth and laughed a little, fancying her head and Anthony's close together. In the dining-room were treasures of china—the White Canton in unchipped dozens. She set two places on the polished table, and drank Anthony's health in a mystical cup of tea.
She ascended the stairs. There were massive beds and massive highboys and lowboys and tables and chairs everywhere, but in the room to which she had brought the lilacs there was nothing but a little old-fashioned piano, and the gray pottery bowl which had held her flowers. Evidently Anthony had changed his plans, and this place which he had dedicated to her was to be used simply as a sitting-room or music room for Bettina.
The candle flared and went out. Diana sat down on the old-fashioned round stool in front of the little piano. Anthony's mother had played on that little piano. It had been his father's gift to his bride.
With her hands resting on the keys she sat and looked out over her beloved harbor.
There was a little silver moon—Diana's moon, the crescent of the huntress.
Well, it was Diana's night! Her fingers struck softly the chords of the music she had created.
Music_score
On the other side of the street, a tired man, coming out of a house where a sick woman had needed his services, halted and held up his head.
He crossed the road and entered the house.
The rugs deadened the sound of his steps. He stopped on the threshold of that upper room. He could see the faint outlines of the tall white figure; he knew the voice, the song.
"Diana, my dear girl!"
She turned and stood up.
"Anthony—oh, Anthony, I have come back—to you."
For days the procession of pretty ladies kept Justin company. Then they floated away on the rolling mists, and he found real faces bending over him,—the nurse's with its fresh comeliness, and Anthony's with a light on it which transfigured it.
One morning when he waked a white rose lay on his pillow.
"Did you put it there, nurse?"
"No. Miss Dolce came."
On Anthony's next visit Justin asked: "Why didn't you let me see her?"
"She sees you every day. Just a peep in at your door. But always when you are asleep."
"But why not when I am awake?"
"It would tire you too much, dear boy."
"Only let me look at her."
So at last Bettina stood beside him, very pale, but with her eyes shining.
Justin could not lift his hurt hands to touch her, so she bent down and laid her cheek against his, andwhispered, "When you are well, we are going to be—married."
"I know—sweetheart."
"And—may I have the little silver ring for my wedding ring, Justin?"
"Yes, sweetheart."
She was not white now, but all rosy with blushes. As she again bent over him he felt the thrilling power of her youth and beauty. Her presence was like wine, reviving him. Her words were a loving cup held to his lips.
"Oh, my Betty, help me to live," he whispered, weakly.
"Hush; oh, my poor, poor boy."
In the weeks that followed it seemed as if only love were holding Justin back from death. There were days when Bettina was not allowed to see him; there were other days when Anthony dared not tell her the fears which assailed him, when he avoided all of her questions, confiding only in Diana.
"There's an awful chance that he will never walk."
Diana, very pale, asked, "Is it his spine?"
"Yes."
"And he was so strong and beautiful."
"He will never fly again, Diana."
"Oh, poor Justin!"
"And poor Betty. I wonder if, when all the first glamour is gone, she will be able to stand the test."
"I am sure she will. She has been so brave."
"If I know Justin, he won't let her marry him when he learns the truth."
"Oh, Anthony!"
"I haven't given up hope, however. His wonderful vitality and perfect health may bring about that which now seems impossible."
Bettina, since she could not minister to Justin, spent the days in ministering to others. In the great workshop where men and women of wealth wove rugs and made pottery as if their bread and butter depended upon it, she became a familiar figure. The patients loved to have her there, and she went from one to the other, a charming little helper in her white frock, with her air of girlish grace.
In those days her beauty assumed a new aspect. All the petulance was gone from her expression—the restlessness from her manner.
"How lovely she is!" said nurses and patients and doctors, and they spoke not of her physical beauty, but of her loveliness of mind and of soul.
Whenever she was allowed to see Justin she cameto him with hope in her shining glance. And one day Anthony let her take the nurse's place, so that for the first time they were alone.
It was then that Justin told her of the Procession of Pretty Ladies. "Anthony says it was the morphine," he said, "but whatever it was, they kept me company for days."
Betty laughed. "You'll soon have a real procession of pretty ladies. Diana wants to come, and Sophie and Sara and Doris. But Anthony insists that they must wait until you can sit up."
"When will that be?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"Don't ask so many questions. As soon as it is good for you, you impatient boy."
"Iamimpatient. I want to be up and out. I want to fly again over the harbor. Betty, all the lovely days are going, and I am lying here like a log."
Her heart seemed to stand still. She knew that he would never fly again. Anthony had told her that he might prepare her in part for the truth. But Justin must not know.
She spoke hurriedly. "I should hate to have youfly again—I should always be thinking of the time I saw you fall."
"It's the only thing I can do well, Betty."
"There are so many things that you can do—with me."
He smiled. "What could I do—with you?"
"You could build a little workroom in the top of our house—ourhouse, dear boy; and you could sit there and invent wonderful things to make other men safe who go up in the air, and I could watch you do it."
"But why should I be shut up, dearest? I'm not made for that sort of thing. I'd rather be out—in the open."
There was a note of alarm in his voice. Bettina tried to laugh naturally. "Because I'd rather have you with me, you venturesome youth—then I should know you were safe."
"If anything could hold me down it would be you,—Betty."
She was silent for a moment, then she said, with hesitation, "Justin, dear——"
"Yes?"
"I don't want to wait until you are well—to be married——"
As he turned on her his puzzled glance the color flooded her face. "Perhaps it isn't usual for a woman to say—such a thing. Perhaps I shouldn't say it. But—I want to feel that I belong to you—I want to know that I have the right to be always at your side. I want to know that—where you go—I can go—Justin——"
The bandages were still on his hands and arms, those hands which yearned to take her hands, those arms which ached to enfold her.
But his eyes held a look which was a caress. "But it would not be fair to you, sweetheart,—to spend your honeymoon in nursing me."
"It would be fair to me. Oh, Justin, Justin, it isn't just sweetheart love that I am giving you; it is wife love and mother love—I feel sometimes as if you were my hurt little boy, and that I'd give my life to help you——"
She was not crying, but her voice held an emotion which was deeper than tears; her steadfast eyes met his; her little hands were laid lightly on the covers above his heart.
And suddenly he saw her enthroned—a woman, not a child—a wife, not a playmate. Her youth and beauty were still there to charm him, but back ofthem was a quality which would hold him until the end—a divine quality of tenderness, of compassion, of eternal constancy.
And, in response, he brought the best that manhood can bring to woman—reverence and that high regard which makes of marriage a spiritual bond.
He tried to speak, but his voice failed. Then, as she bent above him, she heard his whisper:
"Kiss me—my wife!"
In the days which followed the pretty ladies came in a charming procession—Diana and Sophie, little Sara, bravely wistful, Doris escorted by Bobbie. And last, but not least in importance, came Letty Matthews, in a new white dress and rose-wreathed hat, and with happiness glorifying her plain features.
But though they came and went, all these good friends of his, and he smiled and greeted them, his eyes went always beyond them to the little white and gold creature with the woman-eyes. And his voice would call for her, and until she came he would not be content.
Anthony vetoed absolutely the idea of a marriage before Justin's fate should be finally decided.
"But if he knows," Bettina urged with trembling lips, "if he knows that he may be—crippled—he will say that I shall not marry him. You know that he would say that, Anthony."
"And he would be right. A chronic invalid should not marry, Betty. I have great hope of his recovery. You and he must live on that hope a little longer."
Bettina begged Diana to intercede, and that lovely lady, having claimed Anthony for a twilight walk on the beach, began her plea.
But after the first words she found that she must deal not with the man who loved her, but with the great Dr. Anthony.
"I shall certainly not allow it. I am not, of course, her legal guardian, and so I cannot prevent it in that way. But I can tell Justin."
"But she will not be happy without him, Anthony. If it were you, I should marry you."
"I should not let you."
"You could not help it."
They faced each other—this strong man and this strong woman. With their wills opposed, each seemed immovable. It was evident that only a great depth of affection could bring harmony between their dominant natures.
Anthony, smiling at the earnestness of his beloved, did not yield an inch. "These things are not to be decided by sentiment, dear. There are meanings in marriage far beyond mere romance, far beyond the fate of the two individuals who make the contract. We doctors must uphold the ideal of physical perfection lest the race suffer. Moreover Bettina does not know, she cannot know, what life would mean under such conditions. She does not know her own strength, her own weakness. She must learn something of life before she takes its heaviest burdens upon her. If in the years to come she can sustain Justin by her friendship, let it be that. She must not marry him."
"You—with your friendships, Anthony! Love cannot go back to friendship."
She had seated herself on a stone bench which backed by a clump of pines, commanded a wide view of the sea. He hesitated, wondering how he might chase away the shadow which lay on her lovely face.
"Dear heart, we must not disagree about a thing which may right itself. Tell Betty that, if she will be patient for a few weeks, I shall hope to withdraw my opposition."
Her eyes did not meet his.
"Are you thinking that I am cruel, Diana?"
"No, oh, no. But your wisdom won't cure Betty's heartache."
"It may save her future heartaches."
"I wonder if a woman's point of view is ever a man's point of view, Anthony?"
"Only when two people love each other very much, dear. Then each tries to look at life through the other's eyes. We men would grow brutal without you to curb us. But, on the other hand, you need, now and then, the masculine common-sense view-point."
"I don't want the common-sense point of view in this, Anthony."
He laid his hands on her shoulders and stood looking down at her.
"Diana."
"Yes."
"What is it, dear?"
"I don't quite like—being curbed, Anthony."
She was laughing a little for, in spite of her rebellion, there was something stimulating in the thought of his masterfulness. "You see, I've always ruled," she said.
"You shall still rule, everywhere, except in one little corner of my kingdom which has to do with things medical—over that I must still reign."
"Of course if you think that you are right in this——"
"I know that I am right. Look at me, Diana."
Thrilled by his tone of command, she did look at him with eyes like stars.
Then, knowing that he had conquered, he drew her up to him and said, gently, "We doctors have to seem cruel to be kind—but you must never believe me cruel, Diana."
So July passed and August, and the little town took on all the beauty of its September coloring. The dahlias blazed from every fence corner. Against the gray rocks their masses of brilliance tempted the brushes of the artists who came to paint.
The yachts began to leave the harbor, some of them going South, some of them making their exit to the clanking chorus of the marine railway. The yacht clubs sounded their last guns, packed away their pennants and hauled up their floating docks. The hotels were closed, and most of the mansions on the Neck were deserted. The summer folk were turning toward the city, and the little seaport town was settling down to its winter routine.
It was on one of those quiet September days that Anthony said to Bettina, "Set your wedding day, my dear."
"Oh, Anthony, may I, really?"
"Yes. The specialists who came yesterday gave a final decision. Justin is going to get—well."
The invalid, propped up in a big chair, was approached thus:
"Would you mind if it were a big affair, Justin?"
"Not if you want it that way, sweetheart"
"I don't, if you don't. But Diana and the rest are planning——"
He laughed. "I want the whole world to see you, and I want all the bells to ring, and I want to run away afterward with you, and to have our honeymoon last forever."
So they were married from Diana's, at high noon, and as the bride descended the stairway, a sigh of admiration went up from the waiting guests. Her costume had been copied from an old painting, and emphasized her likeness to those medieval Venetian beauties whose blood ran in her veins. Her veil was caught back, cap-fashion, from her face, then fell to her feet. The silken thinness of her gown was weighted with silver embroideries.
Slightly to the left of the officiating clergyman was a screen of white roses. As Bettina advanced, the screen was set aside, and showed Justin, in a big chair, pale and smiling, and seeing only his bride as she came toward him.
Standing by her lover's side, Bettina gave the responses clearly. And when he placed on her finger the little silver ring, it was she who bent and kissed him.
As soon as the ceremony was over, the bridegroom was whisked away, to be followed by the bride when she had cut the wedding cake.
In the library at the head of the stairs she found him. He was on his feet, unsupported, and looking expectantly toward the door.
She gave a little cry. "Justin, you must not——!"
He laughed and held out his arms to her. "Anthony said I might. Just to show you. He didn't quite dare for the wedding. But I want you to know that you are not marrying—a broken reed—dearest."
She looked up at him. "How good it seemed," she whispered, "to see your face above mine. I—I am just as high as your heart—Justin."
Snow over the harbor. Snow, too, at Harbor Light.
Anthony's patients, warmly housed, were busy with Christmas work. Women who had always bought perfunctory Christmas presents, and to whom the holiday season had meant merely a weary round of shopping, bent eagerly over the bit of pottery or of weaving which was to carry a message of peace and good will. Men, whose gift-giving had lost all of its precious meanings, were carving quaint weather-vanes and toys with infinite pains, and reveling in their skill.
Diana, moving from one to the other, encouraged and suggested.
"I am so glad we worked out that mistletoe design for the pottery and the holly for the little whiterugs," she said; "it makes the work so much more interesting."
"It is you who makes the work interesting," said her adoring husband who was at her elbow. "Don't you ever wish for anything else? Wouldn't you like to be down South with Justin and Betty—with purple seas and cocoanut palms and tennis and golf and good times?"
"I'd rather be here with you. Every time you come back from an important case or operation I feel as if you were a knight returning from battle—no woman can have that feeling when her husband isn't doing vital things—but I'll wait until I get home, Anthony, to tell you the rest of it—the whole of Harbor Light has its eyes on us."
It was not curiosity which drew the eyes toward them. To these weary creatures, many of whom had lost their illusions, the romance of their beloved doctor had given new hope. Their belief in the happiness of another made their own chances of happiness seem less remote.
It was late that night, however, before Diana could tell Anthony "the rest of it." He was delayed by a call to an outside case, and she sat up to wait for him.
The snow had stopped, and as she stood at thewindow in her room looking out, Minot's flashed above the horizon, and the big light on the Point flamed against the darkness like a sun. The little twinkling fair weather lights of the summer were gone. Only these remained through the beating storms to send out their warnings to the ships.
It was the great lights of the harbor which served humanity; it was great men like Anthony who served!
Smiling a little, in the fulness of her content, she turned back into the fire-lighted room, and went to her piano.
Anthony, coming up the stairs, spent and chilled, heard her singing:
"The stormy evening closes now in vain,Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain,While here in sheltered houseWith fiery-painted walls,I hear the wind abroad,I hark the calling squalls—'Blow, blow,' I cry, 'you burst your cheeks in vain!Blow, blow,' I cry, 'my love is home again!'"
"The stormy evening closes now in vain,Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain,While here in sheltered houseWith fiery-painted walls,I hear the wind abroad,I hark the calling squalls—'Blow, blow,' I cry, 'you burst your cheeks in vain!Blow, blow,' I cry, 'my love is home again!'"
On the threshold of this blessed sanctuary all of his weariness seemed to vanish; here he found rest and refreshment—here, at last, he had found fulfillment of all his dreams.
—including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully selected list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent writers of the day which is printed on the back of every Grosset & Dunlap book wrapper.
You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from—books for every mood and every taste and every pocket-book.
Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to the publishers for a complete catalog.
There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
The story of a girl and a man who threw away honor and reputation to protect untarnished the memory of a friend.
The story of a girl and a man who threw away honor and reputation to protect untarnished the memory of a friend.
She learned that her father, the man she had idolized, was a thief and a swindler—a bitter heritage not to be escaped.
She learned that her father, the man she had idolized, was a thief and a swindler—a bitter heritage not to be escaped.
The harvest of an early love brings a strange situation and triumph of sacrifice.
The harvest of an early love brings a strange situation and triumph of sacrifice.
The game of love is fraught with danger. To win in the finest sense it must be played fairly.
The game of love is fraught with danger. To win in the finest sense it must be played fairly.
A gripping story of a doctor who failed in a crucial operation and had only himself to blame. Could the woman he loved forgive him.
A gripping story of a doctor who failed in a crucial operation and had only himself to blame. Could the woman he loved forgive him.
A love story based upon the creed that the only important things between birth and death are the courage to face life and the love to sweeten it.
A love story based upon the creed that the only important things between birth and death are the courage to face life and the love to sweeten it.
Nan Davenport's problem is one that many a girl has faced—her own happiness or her father's bond.
Nan Davenport's problem is one that many a girl has faced—her own happiness or her father's bond.
How a man and a woman fulfilled a gypsy's prophecy.
How a man and a woman fulfilled a gypsy's prophecy.
How love made its way into a walled-in house and a walled-in heart.
How love made its way into a walled-in house and a walled-in heart.
The story of a woman who tried to take all and give nothing.
The story of a woman who tried to take all and give nothing.
Do you believe that husbands and wives should have no secrets from each other?
Do you believe that husbands and wives should have no secrets from each other?
It is easy to destroy illusions, difficult to restore them. Anne restored love from the ashes of disillusion.
It is easy to destroy illusions, difficult to restore them. Anne restored love from the ashes of disillusion.
Each of these stories has the sharp impact of an emotional crisis—the compressed quality of one of Margaret Pedlar's widely read novels.
Each of these stories has the sharp impact of an emotional crisis—the compressed quality of one of Margaret Pedlar's widely read novels.
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
BURNING BEAUTYBeautiful Virginia Oliphant is loved by two men; one tempts her with millions, and the other tempts her with nothing more than his devotion.SILVER SLIPPERSDays of delight and disillusionment until Joan Dudley's knight actually came.WALLFLOWERSThey were twins, they were "Wallflowers" perhaps—but they were beautiful, and young and real.THE BLUE WINDOWHildegarde finds herself transplanted from the middle western farm to the gay social whirl of the East.PEACOCK FEATHERSJerry, the idealist, loves Mimi, a beautiful spoiled society girl. A conflict of wealth and love.THE DIM LANTERNThe romance of little Jane Barnes who is loved by two men.THE GAY COCKADEUnusual short stories in which Miss Bailey shows her knowledge of character and her skill in romance tales.TRUMPETER SWANRandy Paine came back from France to the monotony of everyday affairs. But a girl showed him the beauty in the commonplace.THE TIN SOLDIERDerry wishes to serve his country but is bound by a tie he cannot in honor break. Jean loves him and shares his humiliation to help him win.MISTRESS ANNEInto the life of Anne came two men: one is weak and the other strong and they both need Anne.CONTRARY MARYAn old fashioned love story that has a very modern application.GLORY OF YOUTHAn old question yet ever new—how far should an engagement of marriage bind two persons who find they no longer love?
Beautiful Virginia Oliphant is loved by two men; one tempts her with millions, and the other tempts her with nothing more than his devotion.
Days of delight and disillusionment until Joan Dudley's knight actually came.
They were twins, they were "Wallflowers" perhaps—but they were beautiful, and young and real.
Hildegarde finds herself transplanted from the middle western farm to the gay social whirl of the East.
Jerry, the idealist, loves Mimi, a beautiful spoiled society girl. A conflict of wealth and love.
The romance of little Jane Barnes who is loved by two men.
Unusual short stories in which Miss Bailey shows her knowledge of character and her skill in romance tales.
Randy Paine came back from France to the monotony of everyday affairs. But a girl showed him the beauty in the commonplace.
Derry wishes to serve his country but is bound by a tie he cannot in honor break. Jean loves him and shares his humiliation to help him win.
Into the life of Anne came two men: one is weak and the other strong and they both need Anne.
An old fashioned love story that has a very modern application.
An old question yet ever new—how far should an engagement of marriage bind two persons who find they no longer love?
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
LOVERSONE SUMMERLOVE CHANGESLIFE STEPS INBROKENCHARITY'S CHOSENTHE PLANTER OF THE TREESPOILT MUSICTHE MAN WITHOUT A HEARTA BACHELOR HUSBANDTHE SECOND HONEYMOON
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's List.
Here is a list of books by well known writers of romance stories for the modern girl. They are writers whose names have become famous with the publication of their stories as newspaper serials. These books are available in the Grosset & Dunlap Edition.
MAY CHRISTIEThe High Speed GirlFlirting WivesThe Jazz WidowLove's MiracleA Kiss For CorinnaEager LoveMan MadnessLove's EcstasyALMA SIOUX SCARBERRYMake-UpThe Dimpled RacketeerThe Flat TireHigh HatBEATRICE BURTONThe Little Yellow HouseEasyMoney LoveThe Hollywood GirlHoney LouThe Flapper WifeHer ManROBERT D. ANDREWSThe Stolen HusbandThree Girls LostOne Girl FoundROB EDENThe Lovely LiarStep-ChildLove BlindThe Girl with Red HairShort SkirtsELENORE MEHERINMiss PatJerryChickieChickie, A SequelNora LeeSandyLAURA LOU BROOKMANTarnishedMad MarriageHeart HungryAs No Woman Hath LovedHer Love ProblemPlaymateThe Heart BanditJANE DIXONMiss Hard BoiledANNE GARDNERWorking Wives
MAY CHRISTIE
ALMA SIOUX SCARBERRY
BEATRICE BURTON
ROBERT D. ANDREWS
ROB EDEN
ELENORE MEHERIN
LAURA LOU BROOKMAN
JANE DIXON
ANNE GARDNER
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's List.
ELMER GANTRYElmer Gantry, hypocrite and voluptuary, is painted against a background of church members and professing Christians scarcely less hypocritical than he. In this book Sinclair Lewis adds a violent stroke to his growing picture of materialistic America.MANTRAPA clever satire on the adventures of a New York lawyer seeking rest and diversion in the northwoods. Instead of rest he finds trouble in the person of his host's wife—young, pretty and flirtatious.ARROWSMITHThe story of a country doctor whose search for truth led him to the heights of the medical profession, to the heights and depths of love and marriage and to final peace as a quietly heroic laboratory worker in the backwoods of Vermont.BABBITTEvery man will recognize in the character of George Babbitt, something of himself. He was a booster and a joiner, but behind all of his activities was a wistful wonder as to what life holds.MAIN STREETCarol Kennicott's attempt to bring life and culture to Gopher Prairie and Gopher Prairie's reaction toward her teachings have made this book one of the most famous of the last decade.
ELMER GANTRY
Elmer Gantry, hypocrite and voluptuary, is painted against a background of church members and professing Christians scarcely less hypocritical than he. In this book Sinclair Lewis adds a violent stroke to his growing picture of materialistic America.
MANTRAP
A clever satire on the adventures of a New York lawyer seeking rest and diversion in the northwoods. Instead of rest he finds trouble in the person of his host's wife—young, pretty and flirtatious.
ARROWSMITH
The story of a country doctor whose search for truth led him to the heights of the medical profession, to the heights and depths of love and marriage and to final peace as a quietly heroic laboratory worker in the backwoods of Vermont.
BABBITT
Every man will recognize in the character of George Babbitt, something of himself. He was a booster and a joiner, but behind all of his activities was a wistful wonder as to what life holds.
MAIN STREET
Carol Kennicott's attempt to bring life and culture to Gopher Prairie and Gopher Prairie's reaction toward her teachings have made this book one of the most famous of the last decade.
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's List.
THE PRODIGAL GIRLDUSKINCRIMSON ROSESOUT OF THE STORMTHE HONOR GIRLJOB'S NIECECOMING THROUGH THE RYEA NEW NAMEARIEL CUSTERTHE BEST MANTHE CITY OF FIRECLOUDY JEWELDAWN OF THE MORNINGTHE ENCHANTED BARNEXIT BETTYTHE FINDING OF JASPER HOLTTHE GIRL FROM MONTANALO, MICHAELTHE MAN OF THE DESERTMARCIA SCHUYLERMIRANDATHE MYSTERY OF MARYPHOEBE DEANETHE RED SIGNALTHE SEARCHTOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIMETHE TRYSTTHE WITNESSNOT UNDER THE LAWRE-CREATIONSTHE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK