She trembled. Pride and better feeling were contending for the mastery. After a few moments she sprang up and reached out her hands; but he was gone now in very truth.
XXXIII
The Two Pictures
When Christine saw that Dennis was not in the room, she rushed to a window only in time to see his retreating form passing down the street. For a moment she felt like one left alone to perish on a sinking wreck. His words, so assured in their tones, seemed like those of a prophet. Conscience echoed them, and a chill of fear came over her heart. What if he were right? What if she had let the one golden opportunity of her life pass? Even though she had stolen her inspiration from him through guile and cruelty, had he not enabled her to accomplish more than in all her life before? To what might he not have led her, if she had put her hand frankly and truthfully in his? There are times when to those most bewildered in mazes of error light breaks, clear and unmistakable, defining right and wrong with terrible distinctness. Such an hour was this to Christine. The law of God written on her heart asserted itself, and she trembled at the guilty thing she saw herself to be. But there seemed no remedy save in the one she had driven away, never to return, as she believed. After a brief but painful revery she exclaimed: “But what am I thinking of? What can he or any man of this land be to me?”
Then pride, her dominant trait, awoke as she recalled his words.
“He despises me, does he? I will teach him that I belong to a sphere he cannot touch—the poor infatuated youth! And did he dream that I, Christine Ludolph, could give him my hand? He shall learn some day that none in this land could receive that honor, and none save the proudest in my own may hope for it. The idea of my giving up my ancient and honorable name for the sake of this unknown Yankee youth.”
Bold, proud words that her heart did not echo.
But pride and anger were now her controlling impulses, and with the strong grasp of her resolute will she crushed back her gentler and better feelings, and became more icy and hard than ever.
By such choice and action, men and women commit moral suicide.
With a cold, white face, and a burnished gleam in her eyes, she went to the easel and commenced painting out the ominous black stain.
“I’ll prove him a false prophet also. I will be an artist without passing through all his sentimental and superstitious phases that have so amused me during the past weeks. I have seen his lovelorn face too often not to be able to reproduce it and its various expressions.”
Her strokes were quick and almost fierce.
“Mrs. Dennis Fleet, ha! ha! ha!” and her laugh was as harsh and discordant as the feeling that prompted it.
Again, a little later: “He despises me! Well, he is the first man that ever dared to say that;” and her face was flushed and dark with anger.
Dennis at first walked rapidly from the scene of his bitter disappointment, but his steps soon grew slow and feeble. The point of endurance was passed. Body and mind acting and reacting on each other had been taxed beyond their powers, and both were giving way. He felt that they were, and struggled to reach the store before the crisis should come. Weak and trembling, he mounted the steps, but fell fainting across the threshold. One of the clerks saw him fall and gave the alarm. Mr. Ludolph, Mr. Schwartz, and others hastened to the spot. Dennis was carried to his room, and a messenger was despatched for Dr. Arten. Ernst, with flying feet, and wild, frightened face, soon reached his home in De Koven Street, and startled his father and mother with the tidings.
The child feared that Dennis was dead, his face was so thin and white. Leaving the children in Ernst’s care, both Mr. and Mrs. Bruder, prompted by their strong gratitude to Dennis, rushed through the streets as if distracted. Their intense anxiety and warm German feeling caused them to heed no more the curious glances cast after them than would a man swimming for life note the ripple he made.
When Dennis regained consciousness, they, and Mr. Ludolph and Dr. Arten, were around him. At first his mind was confused, and he could not understand it all.
“Where am I?” he asked, feebly, “and what has happened?”
“Do not be alarmed; you have only had a faint turn,” said the doctor.
“Oh, Mr. Fleet, you vork too hart, you vork too hart; I knew dis vould come,” sobbed Mrs. Bruder.
“Why, his duties in the store have not been so onerous of late,” said Mr. Ludolph, in some surprise.
“It is not der vork in der store, but he vork nearly all night too. Den he haf had trouble, I know he haf. Do he say no vort about him?”
Dennis gave Mrs. Bruder a sudden warning look, and then, through the strong instinct to guard his secret, roused himself.
“Is it anything serious, doctor?” he asked.
The physician looked grave, and said, “Your pulse and whole appearance indicate great exhaustion and physical depression, and I also fear that fever may set in.”
“I think you are right,” said Dennis. “I feel as if I were going to be ill. My mind has a tendency to wander. Mr. Ludolph, will you permit me to go home? If I am to be sick, I want to be with my mother.”
Mr. Ludolph looked inquiringly at the doctor, who said significantly, in a low tone, “I think it would be as well.”
“Certainly, Fleet,” said his employer; “though I hope it is only a temporary indisposition, and that you will be back in a
