Three Scenes in the Life of a Worldling

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

　　

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SCENE FIRST."It is in vain to urge me, brother Robert. Out into the world I mustgo. The impulse is on me. I should die of inaction here.""You need not be inactive. There is work to do. I shall never beidle.""And such work! Delving in and grovelling close to the very ground.And for what? Oh no, Robert. My ambition soars beyond your 'quietcottage in a sheltered vale.' My appetite craves something more thansimple herbs and water from the brook. I have set my heart onattaining wealth; and, where there is a will there is always a way.""Contentment is better than wealth.""A proverb for drones.""No, William; it is a proverb for the wise.""Be it for the wise or simple, as commonly understood, it is noproverb for me. As a poor plodder along the way of life, it wereimpossible for me to know content. So urge me no further, Robert. Iam going out into the world a wealth-seeker, and not until wealth isgained do I purpose to return.""What of Ellen, Robert?"The young man turned quickly toward his brother, visibly disturbed,and fixed his eyes upon him with an earnest expression."I love her as my life," he said, with a strong emphasis on hiswords."Do you love wealth more than life, William?""Robert!""If you love Ellen as your life, and leave her for the sake ofgetting riches, then you must love money more than life.""Don't talk to me after this fashion. I cannot bear it. I love Ellentenderly and truly. I am going forth as well for her sake as my own.In all the good fortune that comes as the meed of effort, she willbe a sharer.""You will see her before you leave us?""No. I will neither pain her nor myself by a parting interview. Sendher this letter and this ring."A few hours later, and the brothers stood with tightly graspedhands, gazing into each other's faces."Farewell, Robert.""Farewell, William. Think of the old homestead as still your home.Though it is mine, in the division of our patrimony, let your heartcome back to it as yours. Think of it as home; and, should fortunecheat you with the apples of Sodom, return to it again. Its doorswill ever be open, and its hearth-fire bright for you as of old.Farewell."And they turned from each other, one going out into the restlessworld, an eager seeker for its wealth and honours; the other tolinger among the pleasant places dear to him by every association ofchildhood, there to fill up the measure of his days--not idly, forhe was no drone in the social hive.On the evening of that day, two maidens sat alone, each in thesanctuary of her own chamber. There was a warm glow on the cheeks ofone, and a glad light in her eyes. Pale was the other's face, andwet her drooping lashes. And she that sorrowed held an open letterin her hand. It was full of tender words; but the writer lovedwealth more than the maiden, and had gone forth to seek the mistressof his soul. He would "come back;" but when? Ah, what a vail ofuncertainty was upon the future! Poor stricken heart! The othermaiden--she of the glowing cheeks and dancing eyes--held also aletter in her hand. It was from the brother of the wealth-seeker;and it was also full of loving words; and it said that, on themorrow, he would come to bear her as a bride to his pleasant home.Happy maiden!SCENE SECOND.Ten years have passed. And what of the wealth-seeker? Has he won theglittering prize? What of the pale-faced maiden he left in tears?Has he returned to her? Does she share now his wealth and honour?Not since the day he went forth from the home of his childhood has aword of intelligence from the wanderer been received; and, to thosehe left behind him, he is now as one who has passed the finalbourne. Yet he still dwells among the living.In a far-away, sunny clime, stands a stately mansion. We will notlinger to describe the elegant exterior, to hold up before thereader's imagination a picture of rural beauty, exquisitelyheightened by art, but enter its spacious hall, and pass up to oneof its most luxurious chambers. How hushed and solemn the pervadingatmosphere! The inmates, few in number, are grouped around one onwhose white forehead Time's trembling finger has written the word"Death." Over her bends a manly form. There--his face is toward you.Ah! You recognise the wanderer--the wealth-seeker. What does hehere? What to him is the dying one? His wife! And has he, then,forgotten the maiden whose dark lashes lay wet on her pale cheeksfor many hours after she read his parting words? He has notforgotten, but been false to her. Eagerly sought he the prize, tocontend for which he went forth. Years came and departed; yet stillhope mocked him with ever-attractive and ever-fading illusions.To-day he stood with his hand just ready to seize the object of hiswishes--to-morrow, a shadow mocked him. At last, in an evil hour, hebowed down his manhood prostrate even to the dust in mammon-worship,and took to himself a bride, rich in golden attractions, but poorer,as a woman, than even the beggar at his father's gate. What a thornin his side she proved!--a thorn ever sharp and ever piercing. Thecloser he attempted to draw her to his bosom, the deeper went thepoints into his own, until, in the anguish of his soul, again andagain he flung her passionately from him.Five years of such a life! Oh, what is there of earthly good tocompensate therefor? But, in this last desperate throw, did theworldling gain the wealth, station, and honour he coveted? He hadwedded the only child of a man whose treasure might be counted byhundreds of thousands; but, in doing so, he had failed to secure thefather's approval or confidence. The stern old man regarded him as amercenary interloper, and ever treated him as such. For five years,therefore, he fretted and chafed in the narrow prison whose gildedbars his own hands had forged. How often, during that time, had hisheart wandered back to the dear old home, and the beloved ones withwhom he had passed his early years And ah! how many, many times camebetween him and the almost hated countenance of his wife, thegentle, loving face of that one to whom he had been false! How oftenher soft blue eyes rested on his own! How often he started andlooked up suddenly, as if her sweet voice came floating on the air!And so the years moved on, the chain galling more deeply, and abitter sense of humiliation as well as bondage robbing him of allpleasure in life.Thus it is with him when, after ten years, we find him waiting, inthe chamber of death, for the stroke that is to break the fettersthat so long have bound him. It has fallen. He is free again. Indying, the sufferer made no sign. Sullenly she plunged into the darkprofound, so impenetrable to mortal eyes, and as the turbid wavesclosed, sighing, over her, he who had called her wife turned fromthe couch on which her frail body remained, with an inward "ThankGod! I am a man again!"One more bitter drug yet remained for his cup. Not a week had goneby, ere the father of his dead wife spoke to him these cuttingwords--"You were nothing to me while my daughter lived--you are less thannothing now. It was my wealth, not my child, that you loved. She haspassed away. What affection would have given to her, dislike willnever bestow on you. Henceforth we are strangers."When next the sun went down on that stately mansion which thewealth-seeker had coveted, he was a wanderer again--poor,humiliated, broken in spirit.How bitter had been the mockery of all his early hopes! How terriblethe punishment he had suffered!SCENE THIRD.One more eager, almost fierce struggle with alluring fortune, inwhich the worldling came near steeping his soul in crime, and thenfruitless ambition died in his bosom."My brother said well," he murmured, as a ray of light fell suddenlyon the darkness of his spirit: "Contentment is better than wealth.Dear brother! Dear old home! Sweet Ellen! Ah, why did I leave you?Too late! too late! A cup, full of the wine of life, was at my lips;but I turned my head away, asking for a more fiery and excitingdraught. How vividly comes before me now that parting scene! I amlooking into my brother's face. I feel the tight grasp of his hand.His voice is in my ears. Dear brother! And his parting words, I hearthem now, even more earnestly than when they were firstspoken:--'Should fortune cheat you with the apples of Sodom, returnto your home again. Its doors will ever be open, and itshearth-fires bright for you as of old.' Ah! do the fires still burn?How many years have passed since I went forth! And Ellen? But I darenot think of her. It is too late--too late! Even if she be livingand unchanged in her affections, I can never lay this false heart ather feet. Her look of love would smite me as with a whip ofscorpions."The step of time had fallen so lightly on the flowery path of thoseto whom contentment was a higher boon than wealth, that fewfootmarks were visible. Yet there had been changes in the oldhomestead. As the smiling years went by, each, as it looked in atthe cottage-window, saw the home circle widening, or new beautycrowning the angel brows of happy children. No thorn in his side hadRobert's gentle wife proved. As time passed on, closer and closerwas she drawn to his bosom; yet never a point had pierced him. Theirhome was a type of paradise.It is near the close of a summer day. The evening meal is spread,and they are about gathering around the table, when a strangerenters. His words are vague and brief, his manner singular, his airslightly mysterious. Furtive, yet eager glances go from face toface."Are these all your children?" he asks, surprise and admirationmingling in his tones."All ours. And, thank God! the little flock is yet unbroken."The stranger averts his face. He is disturbed by emotions that it isimpossible to conceal."Contentment is better than wealth," he murmurs. "Oh that I hadearlier comprehended this truth!"The words were not meant for others; but the utterance had been toodistinct. They have reached the ears of Robert, who instantlyrecognises in the stranger his long wandering, long mourned brother."William!"The stranger is on his feet. A moment or two the brothers standgazing at each other, then tenderly embrace."William!"How the stranger starts and trembles! He had not seen, in the quietmaiden, moving among and ministering to the children sounobtrusively, the one he had parted from years before--the one towhom he had been so false. But her voice has startled his ears withthe familiar tones of yesterday."Ellen!" Here is an instant oblivion of all the intervening years.He has leaped back over the gloomy gulf, and stands now as he stoodere ambition and lust for gold lured him away from the side of hisfirst and only love. It is well both for him and the faithful maidenthat he can so forget the past as to take her in his arms and claspher almost wildly to his heart. But for this, conscious shame wouldhave betrayed his deeply repented perfidy.And here we leave them, reader. "Contentment is better than wealth."So the wordling proved, after a bitter experience--which may yoube spared! It is far better to realize a truth perceptively, andthence make it a rule of action, than to prove its verity in alife of sharp agony. But how few are able to rise into such arealization!

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