Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1881-08-31

4
Never mind she could write. Her head
was not very clear, and the various plots OF
the night had resolved themselves into a
chaotic mass, but a cup of coffee would clear
up her confused brain.
After breakfast, devising some new amuse-
ment for keeping the children quiet, she
began to write. Strange but her pen
seemed TO drag itself along, and the thoughts
that seemed so brilliant in the darkness
were dull and commonplace. She wrote and
re-wrote Page after page was tossed aside,
and she rose to prepare dinner with her head
dizzy and throbbing with pain, feeling dis
couraged and realizing family that author
ship was not merely pastime but that there
was work in it, Still she would not give up,
but spent the whole afternoon in her unsuc-
cessful attempt, and retired that night see
ing things dressed in sober gray instead OF
rose color. These two days were fair
sample of the next six months, and no doubt
many authors have similar experience.
The second sketch she wrote was returned
as lacking incident and plot "What we
want" wrote the publisher, " is a sensational
love story of pure tone" Ethel Gerry wrote
another-highly emotional and tragic in its
conclusion, and this was declined because
the character of an outcast-an unfortunate
figured in its pages. True to life and
love, but it shocked the publishers idea of
propriety.
Poor Ethel was in dismay. She had reck-
oned on the proceeds of this story to buy
food for the ensuing week, and she had no
other resource. In her great need she sent
it off to the publisher of an extremely sensa-
tional paper, and received little note OF ap-
proval with crisp five-dollar blu.
Occasionally she sent an article to some
other journal, but it was oftener returned
than otherwise, as not available, with
courteous little regret, and she was most
successful with the publisher who accepted
her first story.
Her style was good-a pure, moral tone
prevailing her writing, together with a fasci-
mating originality that gave popularity to
anything coming from her pen.
During the summer the publisher engaged
her to write serial for his magazine, and
so much time had been given to it that her
money was nearly gone. Almost uncon-
sciously she had wrought into the web Of
the story incidents of her own life as the
wool; and feeling intensely, she had given
to it a pathos that added unusual interest to
its delineations She worked patiently, and
when it was finished sent it off and COM
pletely Frustrated, mentally and physically,
found herself incapable Of exertion. She
had, in reality, been living over her own
past, and though it was in the long-ago,
"reminiscences of those happy days had
crowded up with such intense vividness that
it had exhausted the last remnant of
strength
A week must elapse before she could hope
to hear from her serial Even then it might
prove failure. What would become Of
them if it shouldP
Puzzling her weary brain over this un-
settled problem as she was reclining upon
the lounge in the afternoon, the carriers
well-known step was heard, and a moment
later Bessie ran in with letter for mamma.
Mrs. Gerry recognized the publishers hand
writing, and grew faint with apprehension.
A rejected manuscript, doubtless; and she
tore open the wrapper with nervous haste
1t had been only two days since she sent 1T
away. A little note, more brief than she
had ever received, from him, and publish
ers are renowned for their brevity, dated
this morning:
DEAR MADAM: Shall come out to P-on the 1--WE
Truly yours, ar. E. GRAHAM"
"What can it mean ?" and Mrs. Gerry
made an effort to rise, but was SO faint and
dizzy she sank back hopelessly among the
cushions, and gave glance about the dis
ordered room. Only an hour before the five
train was due.
"Children, pick up your playthings," she
said, YEARLY. "The publisher is coming,
and will be here soon."
Mamma, the man you wrote the tories
:" Intercepted little Bess, Juggling
| away with might and main to right up a
huge chair that had been her carriage all
the afternoon.
eyes, darling, and you must be very
good" the mother said.
al will if he brings you some money to
buy me some shoes that amt weared out"
Bessie answered, with shocking disregard
to the rules Of grammar and little later,
when gentleman was seen coming up the
walk, Bessie bounded down to meet him,
with the question
els you the man mamma write tories for?"
al believe l am" he responded, and in
token of her friendship for him, she slipped
her chubby little hand into his and escorted
him straight to the sitting room without a
word of warning; while as the door opened,
Ethel Gerry looked up to behold a face she
had not seen for ten long years.
She did not faint, though she grew very
| pale as Mr.. Graham came forward, and, talk
| ing both her hands in his warm clasp, looked
| down into the pale, care-worn face with all
the old-time tenderness in his dark express
| sive eyes.
ETHEL Wilbur can it be possible ?" he
said, as, sitting down by her side he took
Bessie upon his knee, with one arm encir-
cling lrma, while one of Mrs. Gerry's hands
was still retained in his own, willing
prisoner.
Mutual explanations followed. Robert
Graham had never known the name of
Ethel's husband. He had never suspected
that it was the woman whom he once loved
who was writing such delicious little sketches
for his journal and magazine, until he
received the serial, containing so much Of
her own life that he could not be mistaken
Ethel Gerry could not understand how
Robert Erskine and Robert Graham were
| one.
An uncle in Scotland had bequeathed to
him his immense fortune on condition of hi.
assuming his name. This accounted for it
and so, one after another, the mysteries en-
veloped the past years were unraveled.
Somehow the business regarding the seria
had not been reached when it was time fol-
the publisher to return to the city, and littl,
Bessie, seeing no money forthcoming, ven
tured to ask if he wasn't going to pay
mamma for that I" tory 2"
That serial was the last one ever writer
by Ethel Gerry, for she soon became thu
wife of Robert Z. Graham, the publisher
and in gaining the love of a noble-heartet
man, gladly relinquished forever her pros
pect OF literary fame, contentsd to shine a,
the bright guiding star of the publisher