Part 6 (1/2)

”Yet you yourself have won success,” argued Martha. ”And you must have started some time.”

Motioning Martha to bring a chair and sit beside her, Mrs. Dainton leaned forward impulsively and took her hands in her own.

”You don't know all that my success has cost me, my dear,” she said simply. ”Success is a wonderful thing, but the road to it is paved with temptations.”

”I know all that, but surely there must be some way to overcome the obstacles,” insisted Martha.

”I once thought the same,” mused Mrs. Dainton, with a far-away look in her eyes. ”But there came a time when I hated myself, and all the world.

Shall I tell you a story, my dear?”

”I would love to hear it,” replied Martha, earnestly, gazing into the eyes of the elder woman.

”Once there was another girl, like you: young, ambitious, innocent,”

began Mrs. Dainton, softly. ”She, too, was poor and wretched. But some people called her handsome. As so many others have done under similar circ.u.mstances, she turned toward the stage. She commenced at the very bottom in the chorus of a London musical production. The company she was with came to America, and little by little she progressed, but oh, it was such hard work and the poverty was so grinding. Her salary was almost nothing. Soon, in this strange country, she was in debt. The landlady of her boarding-house was kind for a week or so, but the girl was hopelessly involved. Then, one day, a note came to the theater. She opened it, and found inside--a hundred-dollar bill.”

”A hundred-dollar bill?” repeated Martha, wonderingly.

”Yes, without a word of explanation. The girl didn't know what to do with the money. She could not return it. She finally spent it.”

”A hundred dollars!” repeated Martha.

”A few nights later came another note. Another hundred-dollar bill. A third and a fourth followed. Flowers, diamonds, a love-letter, and last of all--a man.”

”A man?” repeated Martha, curiously.

”The man had a fortune. The girl was penniless. She couldn't repay the money, for she had spent it. The man was kind, courteous, good-looking--in short, just the kind of man to win a girl's heart.”

”And so they were married?” ventured Martha.

”No, my dear.” Mrs. Dainton shook her head sadly. ”They did not marry.

He gave her everything money could buy, and she, poor fool, accepted it.

When the inevitable happened, when the man left her without a word of farewell, she reaped the bitterness she had sown. But the experience gave her renewed energy. She was determined to triumph in spite of it.

And she did. She succeeded. Years afterward she met that man again. She saw him humble himself a second time before her feet and beg her love in vain.”

”That was splendid,” cried Martha, clasping her hands.

”It was the only punishment she could inflict,” added Mrs. Dainton, bitterly, rising to her feet and beckoning to her maid. ”He had made her suffer deeply, and though she had been proud of her success, the proudest moment of her life was when she publicly humiliated the man who had deceived and wronged her in the past.”

Martha rose to her feet, and held out her hand in sympathy.

”I am so sorry, Mrs. Dainton,” she said simply.

”Sorry, my dear child?” repeated Mrs. Dainton, cheerfully. ”Why need you be? That was what happened to a friend of mine, and that's why I will not help you or any one else to go on the stage.”

”But surely,” cried Martha, desperately, ”some people succeed without pain and unhappiness?”

Mrs. Dainton kissed the girl affectionately.