CHAPTER X.

A BRIEF RETROSPECT.

Ten years have elapsed since Helen Hungerford was deserted by her husband, and left almost destitute to begin again the battle of life for herself and her child.

After having been introduced to New York society, she began immediately to prosper. Mrs. Jerome, the sister-in-law of Helen's dearest friend, had at once interested herself in her career as a drawing-room artiste, with an enthusiasm there was no opposing; she started the ball rolling for her, and Helen's charming personality, with her cultured, delightful voice, her determination to please and to succeed, did the rest. Each year her engagements and pupils multiplied; and, having followed the advice of the Jeromes to set her prices at a figure to give dignity and value to her services, she soon became the fashion, with an ample and constantly increasing income at her command.

This had, ere long, enabled her to locate in a more desirable part of the city, and to handsomely furnish a large apartment, with a studio for her musical work; and, with competent help to relieve her of all domestic drudgery, she found life easier and brighter than it had even been since the first year of her marriage. Neither did she relax effort in her own behalf; she put herself under a noted finishing teacher, both to enhance her own attractions and to keep her repertoire up to date. Dorothy, also, was given every advantage, and at the age of nineteen entered college, from which she graduated four years later.

Meanwhile, she also had developed a decided talent for music, possessing a rich contralto voice that promised great things for the future; and the ensuing two years were spent in making the most of her talent, until, as we have seen, she was beginning to create quite a stir in musical circles, and to share honors with her mother.

They had lived very harmoniously during most of this time, trying to forget the bitter past, and every year becoming nearer and dearer to each other, until, as Dorothy had told Clifford Alexander, they were "more like two devoted chums or sisters than mother and daughter."

But all this had not been achieved without severe struggles on the part of Helen. During the first two years of her sojourn in New York, notwithstanding her almost phenomenal success, she had been bitterly unreconciled to the fate that had doomed her to live out her life as a deserted wife, to be both father and mother to her child, and had even necessitated the concealment of her identity in order to save Dorothy the mortification of being known as the daughter of a divorcee.

She had seasons of wretched brooding, almost amounting to despair, during which it would seem that she could not force herself to fulfill her engagements; when she simply wallowed in the mire of bitter humiliation, rebellion, and self-pity, in view of having been made the target of a malicious fate, the football of an irresponsible man's fickleness, indolence, and selfishness; of an unscrupulous woman's blandishments and coquetry, and her life wrecked in its prime.

For herself, aside from her child, the future seemed to hold no promise; she was not yet forty years of age; she might live forty years longer. Would she have courage sufficient to sustain her so long--to carry this intolerable thorn that rankled in her heart continually? And what made this thorn in the flesh so intolerable? she sometimes asked herself. If her husband had died, she might have grieved for a time over the memory of his unkind treatment of her; but eventually the sting of it would have ceased, and the wound would have healed, and she would have forgiven him.

And what was this thorn, anyway? The question came to her, almost like an audible voice, one day, when she had been more than usually depressed; and, with a sudden inward shrinking from herself, it was forced upon her that it was of her own planting and nourishment, and its sting was her own bitterness, hate, and resentment against the living man, who had left her for another; and also hatred against the woman who had decoyed him from her.

She recoiled from the shocking revelation with a sense of loathing. It was as if she had discovered a nest of poisonous vipers writhing in her own bosom, but which she had carefully and persistently nursed, calling them by other names--disgrace, injured innocence, martyrdom, righteous indignation, et cetera--hugging their stings and the corroding sores they produced.

Immediately upon awakening to this she resolved to purify her consciousness from what she now recognized as willful sin and selfishness. She conscientiously tried to divest herself of the habit of dwelling upon the unhappy past; she strove to bury it so far out of sight by throwing herself more heartily into her work, and into Dorothy's interests and pleasures, that even its ghost could never arise to confront her again.

As time passed, she gradually grew to feel that she was really rising above it. The clouds of depression began to lift, the sun of prosperity melted away the mists of anxiety and care for the future, while the appreciation and kindness of increasing friends broadened and cheered her life in many ways.

It was generally believed among her many patrons in New York that Madam Helen Ford was a widow. None, barring the Jeromes, knew aught of her history, save--according to rumor--that she had belonged to a good family in the far West, and, having been left with a little one to rear and educate, had, upon the advice of her friends, come East to make the most of her beautiful voice.

Mrs. Jerome's exceeding kindness to her, upon her arrival in that great, strange city, had at once won Helen's heart, impelling her to confide everything to her new friend, and thus relieve herself from the consequences of deception toward those who were doing so much for her; and from that hour the noble woman and her husband had been like brother and sister, and of the greatest comfort to her; while the simple fact that the Jeromes had introduced and vouched for her to society was sufficient guarantee to give her the entrée among some of the most cultured people in the metropolis.

They also became very fond of Dorothy, and, having a daughter of about the same age, made much of the girl, often inviting her to their home and to share many of Mollie Jerome's pleasures. The two girls became very friendly, attended the same school, entered and graduated from college at the same time, and thus Dorothy, aided by her own personal attractions and sweetness of disposition, acquired a position among the younger generation in good society that was of great advantage to her.

When Mollie Jerome made her début, Mrs. Jerome included Dorothy in the receiving party, and in this way she also was practically introduced, although she did not care particularly for so-called fashionable society, neither would her circumstances allow her to keep up with its arbitrary demands. Nevertheless, the kindness of these friends, together with the advantages her mother had given her, enabled her to enjoy many delightful opportunities which otherwise she would have missed, and fitted her for the position she was destined later to occupy.

Now, after ten years, having made her professional début, in the home of her good friends, she felt she was well launched upon a career that would insure her independence for the future, and also enable her to relieve her mother of some of the burdens she had borne alone for so many years.

On the evening of his introduction to her, Clifford Alexander had found her to be an exceedingly bright and cultured girl, full of energy and spirit, yet possessing an underlying purity and sweetness of character that were inexpressibly charming to him, who, having seen much of life abroad and in this country, had come to regard the majority of fashionable young ladies as frivolous and shallow, absorbed in worldly pleasures, and possessing little love for domestic life and its sacred duties. Thus he had yet never met any one with whom he felt willing to intrust his future happiness, and so had come to be regarded a confirmed bachelor--or, as Mr. Jerome had put it, "no ladies' man."

After partaking of some refreshments together, Clifford Alexander, desiring to prolong the interview with his companion, suggested a visit to Mr. Jerome's wonderful library and picture gallery, which occupied the entire fourth floor of his dwelling, and contained many rare gems, both of art and literature, over which even connoisseurs were wont to become enthusiastic.

Here they spent a delightful half hour, during which they discovered much pertaining to their individual aims, pursuits, and tastes that was congenial with each other. Then Dorothy was obliged to return to her mother, to assist further in the evening's entertainment. But during this brief interview she had unconsciously woven a magic web about the heart of her new acquaintance, that was destined to prove far stronger than the supposedly confirmed habit of reserve with which he had heretofore fortified himself against all allurements of the fairer sex.

Clifford Alexander was now in his thirtieth year, and a man of no ordinary type. One look at him was sufficient to reveal the fact that he possessed a masterful, purposeful individuality, a character of unswerving integrity, and lofty ideals. An attractive, intellectual face; a pair of shrewd, yet genial, dark eyes; a pleasant, rich-toned voice, with a courtly, gracious manner, all bespoke the refined, high-minded gentleman.

Since leaving college, most of his time had been spent in Europe, where he had attended to the foreign branch of a lucrative business established by his father. Now, Mr. Alexander, Senior, having recently retired, his son had been recalled to this country to fill his place, as the head of the house, while another member of the firm was deputed to look after the interests abroad.

Following the evening of his introduction to them, young Alexander was enabled to keep pretty well posted, through his friends, the Jeromes--particularly through Miss Mollie Jerome--regarding the engagements and movements of Madam Ford and Dorothy. He did not fail to make the most of this information, and thus the way was opened to meet them frequently and cultivate their acquaintance; and it goes without saying that he made the most of every opportunity.

Helen had been greatly attracted to him from the first, and, as the formalities of their early interview began to melt into more friendly relations, she gained a deeper insight of his character, which only served to increase her admiration and respect for him. Neither was she unmindful of the fact that Dorothy's eyes grew brighter, her smiles sweeter, the rose in her cheeks deeper whenever he sought her side. Hence when, one evening, at a social function, he gravely asked her if she would accord him the privilege of calling upon her and Miss Ford, she cordially granted his request, even though she could not fail to understand from his earnest manner the deeply rooted determination which had prompted his action.

He pursued the advantage thus attained most industriously and vigorously. His wooing was ingenuous, straightforward, irresistible. He loved with all his heart, and he pressed his suit with no less earnestness of purpose. He won the prize he coveted, and six months from the evening of their introduction the engagement of Miss Dorothy Ford to Mr. Clifford Alexander was formally announced to their many friends.

That it was a most desirable and suitable alliance was the general verdict of all who knew them. The Alexanders, as a family, were especially happy in view of it, for they had lost an only daughter some years previous, and they lovingly welcomed the beautiful and talented girl as the prospective bride of their son.

Helen was filled with joy and exceeding gratitude, and a great burden was lifted from her heart. Dorothy's future was most luxuriously provided for, both in the wealth of affection bestowed upon her and the opulence that would henceforth shield her from all care or hardship. The name of Ford, by which Helen had never been addressed without a secret sense of fraud, would now be swallowed up by one that no breath of taint had ever touched, and her child would be protected from all danger of association with the unhappy events of her youth to mar her life.

As the engagement was to be a short one, therefore, at Mr. Alexander's request, Dorothy withdrew from all professional work, and proceeded to give her time and attention wholly to the delightful occupation of preparing for her approaching marriage.