Beth Woodburn

by Maud Petitt

  CHAPTER IX.

  _'VARSITY AGAIN._

  In a few days Beth was settled again at Mrs. Owen's, on St. Mary'sStreet, and tripping to her lectures as usual. Marie was not there, ofcourse, and Beth knew nothing of her whereabouts. In fact, there hadbeen a complete change of boarders. The house was filled with 'Varsitygirls this year, with the exception of Marie's old room, a change whichBeth appreciated. One of the girls was a special friend of hers, aplump, dignified little creature whom most people called pretty. Herswas certainly a jolly face, with those rosy cheeks and laughing browneyes, and no one could help loving Mabel Clayton. She belonged to theStudents' Volunteer Movement, and as this was her last year at college,Beth thought sometimes a little sorrowfully of the following autumn whenshe was to leave for India.

  Beth meant to have her spend a few days at Briarsfield with her nextsummer. But a good many things were to happen to Beth before the nextsummer passed. A Victoria student was occupying Marie's old room, but ashe took his meals out of the house Beth never even saw him. One of thegirls who saw him in the hall one day described him as "just too nicelooking for anything," but Beth's interest was not aroused in thestranger.

  That was a golden autumn for Beth, the happiest by far she had everknown. She was living life under that sweet plan of beginning every dayafresh, and thinking of some little act of kindness to be done. Bethsoon began to believe the girls of University College were the verykindest in the world; but she would have been surprised, to hear howoften they remarked, "Beth Woodburn is always so kind!" There wasanother treat that she was enjoying this year, and that was Dr. Tracy'slectures.

  "I think he is an ideal man," she remarked once to Mabel Clayton. "I'mnot in love with him, but I think he's an ideal man."

  Mabel was an ardent admirer of Dr. Tracy's, too, but she could not helplaughing at Beth's statement.

  "You are such a hero-worshipper, Beth!" she said. "You put a person upon a pedestal, and then endow him with all the virtues under the sun."

  A peculiar look crossed Beth's face. She remembered one whom she hadplaced on the pedestal of genius, and the idol had fallen, shattered ather feet.

  She was still the same emotional Beth. There were times when without anyoutward cause, seemingly from a mere overflow of happiness, she almostcried out, "Oh stay, happy moment, till I drink to the full my draughtof joy!"

  Arthur's painting hung above Beth's study table, and sometimes a shadowcrossed her face as she looked at it. She missed the old friendship, andshe wondered, too, that she never met him anywhere.

  Beth did not go home at Thanksgiving that year, and she almost regrettedit the evening before. She was a little homesick for "daddy," and todispel her loneliness she shut up her books and went to bed early. Herhead had scarcely touched the pillow when, hark! there was a sound ofmusic in the drawing-room down-stairs. She rose in bed to listen, it wasso like Arthur's music. She was not at all familiar with the piece, butit thrilled her somehow. There was a succession, of sweet, mellow notesat first; then higher, higher, higher, broader, deeper, fuller, it wasbearing her very soul away! Then sweeter, softer, darker, tint of goldand touch of shadow, the tears were standing in her eyes! Clearer again,and more triumphant! Her lips parted as she listened. One sweetprolonged swell, and it died away. She listened for more, but all wassilent. She looked out of the window at the stars in the clear sky, andthe dark shadow of St. Michael's tower on the snow-covered college roof,then fell back among the pillows to sleep and dream.

  She was walking again on the old path by the road-side at home, just asshe used to go every evening for the milk. The dusk was deepening andshe began to hurry, when she noticed a tall, dark figure ahead. As shedrew nearer she recognized Arthur's broad shoulders and well-set head.Then a strange, indefinable fear seized her. She did not want toovertake him, to meet him face to face. She tried to slacken her steps,but a mysterious, resistless wind seemed to bear her forward against herwill. Not a leaf stirred. All was still around her, and yet thatuncanny, spirit-like wind urged her on. She struggled, and althoughArthur never looked back, she felt that he knew all about her struggles.At last she made one mighty effort and tore herself free. She took thepath on the other side of the road. It was all quiet there, and shewalked on slowly. The darkness grew thicker, and she lost sight ofArthur. Then the country became quite new to her. There were bridgesevery little way--old rickety bridges, that creaked beneath her step,with holes where she caught her feet, and she could hear the great wildtorrents rushing below in the darkness. She grew frightened. Oh, how shewished Arthur were there! Then suddenly it grew lighter, and she sawthat her path was turning, and lo! there was Arthur! A moment more andtheir paths would meet. He reached the spot a few steps before her, andturning, looked at her just once, but she saw in his look that he knewall that had passed in her heart. "Follow me," he said, with a tenderlook; and she followed in silence where the path led between the steep,high banks, where strange flowers were clinging in the dim light. Shewas quite content now, not frightened any longer. Then the bank openedby their pathway, and he led her into a strange, sandy, desert-lookingplace. They entered a shadowy tent, and in the dim light she could seestrange faces, to whom Arthur was talking. No one noticed her, but shedid not feel slighted, for though he did not look at her, she felt thathe was thinking of her. Then suddenly the strange faces vanished, andshe was alone with Arthur. He came toward her with such a beautifulsmile, and there was something in his hand of bright gold--the brightestgold she had ever seen. It was a golden spear with a tiny ring on oneend and a mass of chain hanging to it; but lo! when she looked aroundher she saw it had filled the place with a beautiful mystic light, agolden halo. Then he drew her nearer, nearer to his bosom, and in amoment she felt the spear point touch her heart! An instant of pain,then it pierced her with a deep, sweet thrill. She felt it even to herfinger tips. She awoke with a start, but she could almost feel thatthrill even after she was awake. She could not sleep again quickly, butlay watching the stars and the moonlight growing paler on her book-case.Sleep came at length, and when she awoke again it was at the sound ofMr. Owen's jolly "Heigho! Everybody up! Everybody up!" This was a way hehad of waking the children in good time for breakfast, and it had themerit of always arousing the boarders, too. Beth naturally supposed thatthe musician she had heard the night before had been a caller, and somade no enquiries.

  The following Sunday evening Beth went to church alone. It was onlythree or four blocks up to the Central, and Beth was never timid. Shedid not look around the church much, or she would have recognized afamiliar face on the east side. It was Clarence Mayfair's; he was palerthan usual, and his light curly hair looked almost artificial in thegaslight. There was something sadder and more manly in his expression,and his eyes were fixed on Beth with a reverent look. How pure she was,he thought, how serene; her brow looked as though an angel-hand hadsmoothed it in her slumber. She seemed to breathe a benediction oneverything around her; she reminded him of an image of an angel bendingin prayer, that he had seen in one of the old cathedral windows acrossthe sea. And yet, after knowing a woman like that, he had fancied hecould--even fancied he did--love Marie de Vere. What folly had blindedhim then, he wondered? Marie had her charms, to be sure, with thosedark, bewitching eyes of hers, so kind and sympathetic, so bright andwitty and entertaining. But there was something about Marie that wasfleeting, something about Beth that was abiding; Marie's charmsbewitched while she was present and were soon forgotten, but Beth'slingered in the memory and deepened with the years. It was well, afterall, he thought, that Marie had refused his offer of marriage thatmorning he received Beth's note, and went to her in the heat of hispassion. He was but a boy then, and yet it was only a few months ago.What was it that had changed him from boyhood to manhood so suddenly? Hedid not try to answer the question, but only felt conscious of thechange within. He realized now that he had never known what it meant tolove. Marie had shed her lustre on him as she passed; Beth he had neverfully comprehended. He had a dim feeling that sh
e was somehow too highfor him. But would this reverence he felt for her ripen into love withthe maturer years of his manhood? We never can tell the changes thattime will weave in these hearts of ours. It is to be feared Clarence wasnot a very attentive listener throughout the service that night. At theclose he waited for Beth in the moonlight outside, but she did notnotice him till he was right beside her.

  "Clarence!" she exclaimed, in a tone of astonishment. "Why, I thoughtyou were in England."

  "So I was; but I am back, you see."

  "I thought you were going to take a year at Cambridge."

  "I did intend to, but I found it too expensive. Besides, I thought Iwouldn't bother finishing my course. I am doing some work along thejournalistic line at present. I just came to Toronto last night, andintend to leave Tuesday or Wednesday."

  In the first moment of her surprise she had forgotten everything exceptthat Clarence was an old friend from home; but now, as he walked besideher, it all came back like a flash--the memory of that night last summerwhen she had seen him last. She grew suddenly silent and embarrassed.She longed to ask him about Marie; she wondered if they were engaged,and if so where she was, but she soon controlled herself and asked himabout his trip to England, about his mother, about his work, about Edithand everything else of possible or impossible interest. She wasrelieved, without knowing why, that it was only a few blocks to herboarding-place. He lingered a moment as he said good-night, andsomething in his look touched her a little. Only the stirring of oldmemories. She hardly knew whether she was pleased or not to meet himagain; but as she entered her room in the darkness her dream seemed toflash across her memory and a tender voice said, "Follow me."

  Clarence strolled a little way into the park, pondering on the past. Hehad never asked Beth for an explanation of her farewell note. Henaturally supposed that Arthur Grafton had gone directly to her thatnight and caused the rupture. He wondered if Arthur were in love withher. Then he turned suddenly and walked back by St. Mary's Street toYonge. The street was almost deserted; there was only one figure insight, a tall man drawing nearer. There was No.----, where he had leftBeth at the door. He had just passed a few more doors when a familiarvoice startled him. It was Arthur Grafton! Clarence felt ill at ease fora moment, but Arthur's tone was so kind it dispelled his embarrassment.They talked for a few moments, then parted; and Clarence, looking back amoment later, saw Arthur ring the bell at Beth's boarding-place. Apeculiar look, almost a sneer, crossed his face for a moment.

  "Ah, he is going in to spend the evening with his beloved," he thought.

  And Clarence resolved, then and there, not to call on Beth the followingday, as he had intended.

  But Arthur proceeded absently to the room Marie had formerly occupied,without the slightest idea that Beth had lived in the house with himnearly two months. It was strange, but though he had seen all the othergirls in the house he had never seen Beth. He had not enquired heraddress the year before, not wishing to know. He wished to have nothingto do with Clarence Mayfair's promised wife. She was nothing to him.Should he encourage the love he felt for another's wife? No! He hadloved with all the strength of that love that comes but once to anyhuman heart, and he had suffered as only the strong and silent cansuffer; but he had resolved to bury his pain, and it had given his facea sterner look. So he lay down to rest that night all unconscious thatBeth was in the room just overhead; that he had heard her footstepsdaily, even listened to her humming little airs to unrecognizable tunes;but the sight of Clarence Mayfair had aroused the past, and he did notsleep till late.

  The following afternoon, as Beth sat studying in her room afterlectures, she heard a faint tap at her door, a timid knock that in someway seemed to appeal strangely to her. She opened the door--and therestood Marie! In the first moment of her surprise Beth forgot everythingthat had separated them, and threw both arms about her in the oldchild-like way. She seated her in the rocker by the window and theytalked of various things for a while, but Beth noticed, now and then,an uneasy look in her eyes.

  "She has come to tell me she is going to marry Clarence, and she findsit difficult, poor girl," thought Beth, with a heart full of sympathy.

  "Beth," said Marie at last, "I have wronged you. I have come here to askyou to forgive me."

  Beth belonged to the kind of people who are always silent inemergencies, so she only looked at her with her great tender eyes, inwhich there was no trace of resentment.

  "I came between you and Clarence Mayfair. He never loved me. It was onlya fancy. I amused and interested him, I suppose. That was all. He istrue to you in the depths of his heart, Beth. It was my fault--all myfault. He never loved me. It was you he loved, but I encouraged him. Itwas wrong, I know."

  Something seemed to choke her for a moment.

  "Will you forgive me, Beth? Can you ever forgive?"

  She was leaning forward gracefully, her fur cape falling back from hershoulders and her dark eyes full of tears.

  Beth threw both arms about her old friend tenderly, forgetting all thebitter thoughts she had once had.

  "Oh, Marie, dear, I love you--I love you still. Of course I forgiveyou."

  Then Beth told her all the story of the past, and of that night when shehad learned that Clarence did not love her, of her wounded vanity, hermistaken belief in the genuineness of her own love for him, and hergradual awakening to the fact that it was not love after all.

  "Then it wasn't Mr. Grafton at all who made the trouble?" interruptedMarie.

  "Mr. Grafton? Why, no! What could he have to do with it?"

  "Oh, nothing. We thought, at least Clarence thought, he made thetrouble."

  Beth looked mystified, but Marie only continued in a softened tone:

  "I am afraid you don't know your own heart, dear Beth. You will cometogether again, and all will be forgotten."

  "No, Marie, never! The past was folly. All is better as it is."

  A pained look that Beth could not fathom drifted across Marie's brow."You think so now, but you will change," she said.

  A knock at the door interrupted them just then, as Mrs. Owen announced afriend of Beth's.

  Marie kissed her gently.

  "Good-bye, Beth," she said in her sweet low voice, and there was atender sadness in her dark eyes. Beth did not know its meaning at thetime, but a day was coming when she would know.

  Beth saw nothing more of Clarence during his few days in the city. Shewondered sometimes if Marie had seen him, but though they saw each otheroccasionally during the rest of the winter, neither of them mentionedhis name.

  That week had seemed eventful in Beth's eyes, but it was more eventfuleven than she thought. The following Saturday, after tea, as Beth andMabel Clayton were going back upstairs, Beth had seated Mabel by forceon the first step of the second flight to tell her some funny littlestory. Beth was in one of her merry moods that night. Beth was not awit, but she had her vein of mirth, and the girls used to say she wasgrowing livelier every day. The gas was not lighted in the hall, butBeth had left her door open and the light shone out on the head of thestairs. A moment later they started up with their arms about eachother's waist.

  "Oh, Beth, I left that note-book down stairs. Wait, I'll bring it up toyou."

  Beth waited, standing in the light as her friend scampered down again.She heard the door of Marie's old room open, and a tall man stepped intothe hall, but as it was dark below she could not see his face. Shewondered, though, why he stood so still, and she had a consciousnessthat someone was looking at her.

  Arthur Grafton--for it was he--stood for a moment as if stunned. Thereshe was--Beth Woodburn! The woman he--hush! Clarence Mayfair's promisedwife! She looked even beautiful as she stood there in the light, with asmile on her face and a pure white chrysanthemum at her throat.

  "You needn't hurry so, Mabel dear. I can wait," she said as her friendapproached.

  It was over a year since he had heard that voice, and he had tried tobelieve his heart was deadened to its influence; but now to-night, atth
e first sound, it thrilled him again with its old-time music. A momentlater she closed her door and the hall was dark, and his heart began tobeat faster now that he grasped the truth. He turned again to his room,filled with the soft radiance of moonlight. He leaned back in his studychair, his eyes closed; he could hear the students of St. Michael'schanting an evening hymn, and an occasional cab rattled past in thestreet below. He noted it as we note all little details in our momentsof high excitement. Then a smile gradually lighted up his face. Oh,sweet love! For one moment it seemed to be mastering him. She was there.Hark! Was that her footstep overhead? Oh, to be near her--to touch herhand just once!

  Then a stern, dark frown settled on his brow. He rose and paced the roomwith a sort of frenzied step. What is she to you--Clarence Mayfair'spromised wife? Arthur Grafton, what is she to you? Oh, that love, deepand passionate, that comes to us but once! That heart-cry of a strongsoul for the one being it has enshrined! Sometimes it is gratified andbears in after years its fruits, whether sweet or bitter; or again, itis crushed--blighted in one moment, perhaps--and we go forth as usualtrying to smile, and the world never knows, never dreams. A few yearspass and our hearts grow numb to the pain, and we say we haveforgotten--that love can grow cold. Cold? Yes; but the cold ashes willlie there in the heart--the dust of our dead ideal! Would such a fate beArthur's? No. There was no room in that great pulsing heart of his foranything that was cold--no room for the chill of forgetfulness. Striveas he might, he knew he could never forget. What then remained? Even inthat hour a holier radiance lighted his brow. Strong to bear theburdens and sorrows of others, he had learned to cast all his care uponOne who had never forsaken him--even his unrequited love. He laid it onthe altar of his God, to bloom afresh, a beauteous flower transplantedby the River of Life, beyond the blight of envy and of care--beyond, yetnear enough to earth to scatter its fragrance in blessings down upon thehead of her whom he--loved! Dare he say that word? Yes, in a sweeter,holier sense than before, as one might love the beings of another world.His face was quite calm as he turned on the light to resume his studies,but before beginning his work he looked a little sadly around the room.Yes, he had spent pleasant hours there, but he must leave, now. It wasbetter that the same roof should not shelter them both. He did not wishto see Beth Woodburn again; and he just remembered that a friend of hiswas going to vacate a room on the other side of the park. He would takeit early next week.

  It was a week later, one afternoon, just before tea, that Beth and MabelClayton were sitting in the drawing-room with Mrs. Owen.

  "Do you know any of the girls over at the college who would like to geta room, Miss Clayton?"

  "No, but I might find some one."

  "Mr. Grafton has moved out of his room for some reason, I don't knowwhat."

  "Mr.--whom did you say?" asked Beth.

  "Mr. Grafton. Did you know him? A tall, dark fellow! Goes to Victoria.Quite good-looking!"

  "Why, surely, can it be Arthur Grafton! That's just who it is! Why, howfunny we never met each other coming in and out!"

  "Did you know him, Beth?" asked Mabel. "I met him once or twice in thehalls, but I didn't know you knew him."

  "Yes, I have known him ever since we were children."

  "Oh, then you have heard him play," said Mrs. Owens. "He played for usThanksgiving eve. He's a splendid musician."

  Beth felt just a tinge of disappointment that night as she passed theclosed door of the room Arthur had occupied. She wondered why he nevertried to find her. It was unkind of him to break the old friendship socoldly. It was not her fault she could not love him, she thought. Shecould never, never do that! In fact, she did not believe she would everlove any man.

  "Some people are not made for marriage, and I think I'm one of them."And Beth sighed faintly and fell asleep.