Picture-Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

24 PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY "If poor .Ned but knew how much I love the 'some one else,' " she mused, gazing at the few hastily scribbled lines. "The some one else for whom I have sacrificed everything, even honor itself. Oh, Frank, darling, our love has been worth any sacrifice it is within my power to make. And to-night you are coming, and we will be married. Even now my darling is talking with his father, and at ten o'clock he will be here to make me his wife in the eyes of the law, as I am his wife in the eyes of God." She little knew, however, of the scene which was taking place in the library of, the palatial Dawson mansion. "My son, you cannot marry this girl !" fairly shouted Edwin Dawson, bringing his clenched fist down on the table. "You've made a fool of yourself by becoming involved with her, and you can't marry her. The idea of my son marrying one of my mill hands is absurd, sir ; positively absurd." "But, father, I love Mildred Hale, and I intend to marry her," r.aid the younger man. "You would go against my wishes in this matter, would you? You would bring the honored name of Dawson in the mud? Let me tell you that my word is law, and that if you dare disobey me, I'll cut you off without a penny." "Father, marriage is the only honorable way out. If I do not marry Mildred Hale, she will be forever scorned by society." "Don't be foolish, my boy. My money will square everything with her, and her so-called disgrace will be but a nine days' wonder, and soon forgotten. Can't you see the folly of marrying this woman under the conditions which exist? In the future, whenever an unpleasant situation arises, you will realize that your youthful folly has resulted in making life a hell on earth for both of you. Your so-called love will turn to hate. Instead of loving each other, as you claim you now do, there will be nothing but contempt and loathing. "Even if you should marry this girl, how would you support her? You have never done a day's work in your life. You have always been dependent upon me for everything that you have ever had. Mark you well, my boy, if you are so foolish as to marry this jade, I'll cut you off without a penny." "But, father, society and my honor demand that I do the square thing," protested Frank Dawson, but in the tones of his voice the millionaire could plainly discern that his son was weakening. "Now, see here: To-morrow morning you will leave for the number two lumber camp, to take charge of some of the details there. After you have left, I'll have a chat with this Hale girl, and I am pretty sure that money will prove attractive enough to her to prevent any sort of action on her part. I am much older than you, and I know the value of the dollar. Shall it be as I say, or will you marry this girl and live in poverty and discord for the rest of your days ?" For several minutes there was silence. In the mind of the young man love and honor battled for supremacy over selfishness and greed. "Father, I'll do as you say," finally replied Frank. Selfishness and greed had won. Slowly the clock ticked off the minutes in the little sitting room in Andrew Hale's cottage. The hour hand pointed to half after ten, and still Milly waited for her lover. Her father had retired, but she had waited up on the pretext that she desired to finish a story she was reading. As she sat in the soft glow of the lamplight, lines of worry corrugated her brow. What was detaining him? Surely he would not prove faithless. She thought of the great sacrifice she had made, and suddenly it dawned upon her what the future held in store for her if her child should be born nameless. The hour of eleven struck, wakening her from her miserable reverie. Slowly she rose from her chair. The man for whom she had sacrificed all had failed to keep his promise. Mechanically she extinguished the light and dragged her weary body to bed, there to lay and toss the long night through. "Miss Hale," began Edwin Dawson, drumming lightly on his desk with a pencil, "my son has informed me of the whole unfortunate affair existing between himself and you. He has gone away. How much money do you want to keep quiet about this episode and " "Money," she interrupted, in a voice that was dangerous in its calmness. "Do you think that money can restore to me my honor? Do you think th I money can recompense me for the sa 1 rifice I have made? Oh. you would p I me on a level with a woman of tl I streets !" All her calmness deserti I her, and she burst into tears. "I love I your son, and I believe that he lovel and still loves me. You have sent hi 1 away. You have wrecked two. aye. thn I lives, simply because you think thai money can do everything. I don't wail your money ; I would not touch a penrjj of it. Money " A sob choked hM and she turned, crouched and hearjl broken, from the desk of the man will had insulted and humiliated her. As she walked through the long coil ridor toward the workroom, she sull ceeded in regaining her usual coim posure. Rapidly she made her way U the cloakroom, where she secured ha hat and coat. Then, without a word i! reply to the questioning glances of ha coworkers, she quitted the factor}'. Immediately the girls began to gol sip among themselves, speculating as W the cause of Mildred's abrupt departure Through some underground source til girls had learned that Frank Dawsol had suddenly left town for one of hi father's lumber camps, and this facl coupled with the interview between thl factory girl and her employer, was sul ficient evidence for the girls to draf their own opinions. By the time thl evening whistle blew, the gossip hal reached the ears of Ned Lane, bil every one was careful to keep it frot| old Andrew Hale. Without lingering to meet the fathe! of the girl he loved, Ned left the mill and, taking the shortest possible routl soon arrived at the Hale cottage. Th! mental agony that was tearing at hj very soul was written plainly on hi| face. As he entered the little cottage, Mill! looked up with startled, red-rimme eyes. The furtive glance that she vouch safed him seemed to sa}', "Do you know too?" In that startled, furtive glance Nei Lane read the truth of the gossip, whic; he had fought to disbelieve. As he ad vanced toward her, there was a look o love and compassion in his eyes. Thi girl before him had loved well, but no wisely, and who was he to judge her? "Milly, dear," he began, in straineo hoarse, tense tones, "the hour has coni' when you need a true friend. Let nn help you."