In a peasant's cot we find a fair, young maiden who is loved by an honest, true-hearted peasant lad, while yonder stands the manor of Glenwood with its noble lord, who chanced to pass by one fair day and there noble eyes met peasant meekness and love found work a-plenty to do. But maiden thought naught of my lord o' the manor, nor so much as gave him cause to hope that all his castles and lands could win her heart from the true peasant lad who had gone forth in the world to win humble living for his bride to be. It was then that Dame Poverty came knocking at the peasant's door and upon her heels crept a fever which held the young sister close within her breast only waiting for death to knock gently at the humble cot. And still no word from the loved one in a foreign land! Had he deserted his fond-hearted lassie? Weeks passed by and still no word nor sign of the one held most dear, and then my lord of Glenwood Keep came suing for her hand. On one side poverty, silence and perhaps death to her beloved sister, on the other riches, honor and life for her who needed it so much. If he would only write, her peasant lad. Little she knew that he lay ill raving with fever in a foreign hospital. And so the battle of poverty and riches was fought and her heart grew sick. In a few weeks Glenwood Keep had a new mistress in the maid of the peasant cot. Months later, worn and weary, a peasant boy wandered back to his own land to find the idol of his heart close within the gray walls of a rich man's mansion. Silently at night he stole into her chamber and there learned from her lips the sad story of her love and struggle. Ere they could part forever, the lord of the manor returned and the peasant boy gave up his life for the honor of the woman he loved. But ere the sun went down we find the lad and maid clasped at last in each other's arms, the kiss of death upon their brow.