The Hand But Not the Heart | Page 3

he answered.
"Do you think I could beg for a lady's favorable regard? No! I would
hang myself first!"
"How is a lady to know that you have a preference for her, if you do
not manifest it in some way?" asked Mrs. Denison. "This is being a
little too proud, my friend. It is throwing rather too much upon the lady,
who must be wooed if she would be won."

"A lady has eyes," said Paul.
"Granted."
"And a lady's eyes can speak as well as her lips. If she likes the man
who approaches her, let her say so with her eyes. She will not be
misunderstood."
"You are a man," replied Mrs. Denison, a little impatiently; "and, from
the beginning, man has not been able to comprehend woman! If you
wait for a woman worth having to tell you, even with her eyes, that she
likes you, and this before you have given a sign, you will wait until the
day of doom. A true woman holds herself at a higher price!"
There was silence between the parties for the space of nearly a minute.
Then Paul Hendrickson said--
"Few women can resist the attraction of gold. Creatures of taste--lovers
of the beautiful--fond of dress, equipage, elegance--I do not wonder
that we who have little beyond ourselves to offer them, find simple
manhood light in the balance."
And he sighed heavily.
"It is because true men are not true to themselves and the true women
Heaven wills to cross their paths in spring-time, that so many of them
fail to secure the best for life-companions!" answered Mrs. Denison.
"Worth is too retiring or too proud. Either diffidence or self-esteem
holds it back in shadow. I confess myself to be sorely puzzled at times
with the phenomenon. Why should the real man shrink away, and let
the meretricious fop and the man 'made of money' win the beautiful and
the best? Women are not such fools as to prefer tinsel to gold--the
outside making up to the inner manhood! Neither are they so
dim-sighted that they cannot perceive who is the man and who the
'fellow.' My word for it, if Miss Loring's mind was known, you have a
higher place therein than Dexter."
Just then the two persons of whom they were speaking passed near to

them, Miss Loring on the arm of Dexter, her face radiant with smiles.
He was saying something to which she was listening, evidently pleased
with his remarks. The sight chafed the mind of Hendrickson, and he
said, sarcastically--
"Like all the rest, Mrs. Denison! Gold is the magnet."
"You are in a strange humor to-night, Paul," answered his friend, "and
your humor makes you unjust. It is not fair to judge Miss Loring in this
superficial way. Because she is cheerful and social in a company like
this, are you to draw narrow conclusions touching her
heart-preferences?"
"Why was she not as cheerful and as social with me, as she is now with
that fellow?" said the young man, a measure of indignation in the tones
of his voice. "Answer me that, if you please."
"The true reason is, no doubt, wide of your conclusions," answered Mrs.
Denison. "Genuine love, when it first springs to life in a maiden's heart,
has in it a high degree of reverence. The object rises into something of
superiority, and she draws near to it with repressed emotions, resting in
its shadow, subdued, reserved, almost shy, but happy. She is not as we
saw Miss Loring just now, but more like the maiden you describe as
treating you not long ago with a strange reserve, which you imagined
coldness."
"Woman is an enigma," exclaimed Hendrickson, his thoughts thrown
into confusion.
"And you must study, if you would comprehend her," said Mrs.
Denison. "Of one thing let me again assure you, my young friend, if
you expect to get a wife worth having, you have got to show yourself in
earnest. Other men, not half so worthy as you may be, have eyes quite
as easily attracted by feminine loveliness, and they will press forward
and rob you of the prize unless you put in a claim. A woman desires to
be loved. Love is what her heart feeds upon, and the man who appears
to love her best, even if in all things he is not her ideal of manhood,
will be most apt to win her for his bride. You can win Miss Loring if

you will."
"It may be so," replied the young man, almost gloomily. "But, for all
you say, I must confess myself at fault. I look for a kind of spontaneity
in love. It seems to me, that hearts, created to become one, should
instinctively respond to each other. For this reason, the