The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-04-04
sPrtntea b. Epecsas Ar-angess-ns srstA TIE Asthor
SW EET HOME.
BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS
ICopyrighted 1886. by the Author-Aii Rights
Reservedl
A STORY.

interest not always attachable TO the fasnlona-
bic fiction OF the day. A hurried or tired man.
snatcking magazine or newspaper for clutch of
freedom from his own private bother, stands
the main chance of metaphysics, portrait pho
Biography or theology As | take it, the main
chance is that he wants a story; the art of tell
ing which bids fair to be a submerged one in the
slong wave" Of our transition period. The tale
may even be sad one but if something hap
pens, your busy or weary reader feels that he
has what he came for. My tale is not glad
one; but. if it offer no mental hyperasthesia or
moral dissection tables or conversational pyro-
technics will at least tell bit of real life in a
plain way, and stop when it is done.
am by profession physician, aud my name
is FERN am at present practicing in New
York; which is neither here there, since it is
not my own story that have to relate. am
the only living being-for the nurse has since
died-who commands the facts of what, in the
latter years Of very varied professional life,
can say is on the whole the most tragic expe-
rience which has ever entered into it.
At the time of which / must hasten to speak
without further waste Of the precious tissue OF
words, i was in practice in large Western city,
whose name shall withhold. was not young;
although but recently married Ny youth had
been one of close absorption in my profession;
and had achieved acertain foothold in it. before
turning my attention to the personal aspect of
life, which we call human happiness. In fact,
had but just returned from my bridal trip at the
time the events speak of, took place. said,
moment since, that, as was not relating my
,f r1ar
in the recital. Already am compelled to retract
this rash observation, for already see that the
personal equation gave, or may have given a
powerful subjective coloring to the effects of the
tragedy on my own mind. am not used to writ
ing stories. 1t is possible that it may not be so
simple matter to stick to what happened as
/ should have supposed. At all events, must
tell this story III my own way, good or bad since
there is no one else so tell 1t; and as am not a
literary man. and have no professional theory to
rise or fall by, can venture to be myself and to
do the thing naturally; which maybe something.
To be frank then, it is of leaving out
that incident of the bridal tour. AS soon as
Try to revivify the situation in which young Nc
All found himself, the scene which invariably
and imperiousy presents itself is one which has
nothing TO do with the actors action of his
history, except as have to do with it; and /, as
say, was anewly-married happy man, through
whose binding blaze of joy .he dark outline of
that other mans lot looked so incredible as to
scarcely come under optical laws; or it was like
some grim object one of those sea-nonsters, let
as say just too large to come within reach Of
the glass through which they must be viewed
from shore.
Let me give you, then, what | see; and what
! see at the name of Lloyd McAll, dashing
seintillant swift and unfading before me--what
] see is this:
We are in our own house. on our own pleasant
and prosperous street, just around the corner
from the little court where the tragedy to which
refer took place. It is brilliant morning in
the decline of June We have been two days
''at home" l. who have been for SO many years
homeless man. fighting hand to hand for my
future hard-worked and hard working and glad
of it, a little incredulous yet of my good luck,
stand staring about me- hat in hand, preparing
to go out upon my morning rounds and sur
prised to find it so much slower a process than it
usedto be. IL takes-how longi-to say good bye
to my youngwife.
We have said it already more times than a
man cares to stop and count, and still it seems
to cling and float unsaid in the very atoms of
the sunny air that palpitate between US as we
move apart and regard each other gravely with
the solemn strangeness of our joy upon u.s. The
house is fair and fresh-dashed with new colors,
foreign to my bachelor quarters, and which
seem to me like tropical foliage or fora gath
cred from some till now undiscovered country,
and set abaze in my gray life My wife glides
backward from me smiling; her feet cling in her
ong white mornin gown; she moves to the pi-
ano and seats herself there, running her fingers
lightly up and down the shining keys. The
rs in the room-a food tide of itthrobbing on
music, and falling on the hem of her garment at
1er feet.
You will be late, she says
consult my watch, and VOW / have half
minute yet TO spare. l have consultation on
hand this morning, and / am precise man. ac-
sustomed to some military method in my duties,
and giving what ! require from my patients
obedience TO law But have never been just
married man before.
'Hurlburtr
1 have started, but she calls me back Like
Me most helpless of my sick, l, who am trained
20 rule. obey
''Hurburt dear!"
How beautful--how beautiful creature n
happy woman isl
'HurbIrt, shall we have tho
'What. my loyslr
''Do you want the strawberries for lunch or
dinner, Hurlburtl 1t will weigh on my mind all
the morning, if don't know beyond a moral
doubtw
While che is propounding this fatal question
in her pretty accented, girlish voice, she runs
her fingers merrily up and down the chroInatic
scale; she is perched upon the edge of the piano
stool with ler long draperies flowing about her:
she looks at me over her shoulder with side
wise motion of her head, like half tanned birds.