St. Landry democrat., 1886-05-29
Lorrimer told his story of the inter-


of the stage, and everybody agreed that
the dead Tregarthen of MI Lorrmer' 5
imagination was the last sort of a per
son who had right to have his dying
wishes gratifed. When the conclaye
parted and the poet walked into the
Strald. he dived into the street Lori
mer had mentioned and read the door
plates with some little trouble in the
gathering dusk until he came upon the
boarding house. He remembered the
brilliant and stately creature who had
swept SO hauehti1y away from his inn
pertinent presence at Tregarthen, and
felt unhappy to think that she was
housed in this frowsy caravanserai. He
had seen her but twice. and she had
certainly ill-treated him, and yet he
felt such an interest in her as few
women had inspired him with She
was poor and in grief and a widow
Mr.. Ronald Marsh left the street slowly
and sadly. and thought how full OF
trou bic was the world, and unused on
Death and the Reviewers, and such
grisly themes.
1t was no business of any mans, but
two or three people who knew him
caught the poet at odd times in the act
of leaving that street after dark. with a
certain marked air of furtive adventure
If any hope of seeing Mrs. Tregarthen
again drew him that way OF if he
merely went TO moon in the neighbour
hood because it induced that curious
sense of the abolition of moral respon-
sibiiities with regard to language which
is so valuable to poets, would seem to
be uncertain. When you relax your
brains for the manufacture OF verses,
and allow them to flow out where they
will, ditfuse and devious, a remen-
brance of some person OF the opposite
sex serves as a sort of center tor the
tides, dissipating or rallying them quite
apart from the will of the patient
1t had grown into winter-t;me, and
the rainy night had fallen upon Lon
don, and the streets had fungous odor
in the rain, and were inch-deep in mud,
when the poet, bearing his demon with
him, slashed past the lodging-house-
top-booted, with his sonlbrero pict-
uresquely tapping and his long cloak
picturesquely flying in the wet wind
which blew up from the river. He was
scathing reviewer, and would have
thrown his annual income into the
Thames to have secured stately rhyme
to viper; but Just as he passed the
boarding-door it opened, and the merest
glance assured him that Mrs. Tregar-
then stood there attired for the street.
A second later or two the wind caught
the door, and it slammed noisily. The
poet moderated his headlong pace.
paused and turned. Mrs. Tregarthen's
tall and graceful figure went tluttering
Strandward.
Ronald Marsh knew perfectly we'll
that it is not counted gentlemanly
thing to follow lady without her
knowledge and consent, and he piqued
himself on being gentleman almost
more than on being a poet He did
not think it honorable to dog a ladys
footsteps, and it was 70 affair of his to
know whittier she was bound ON foot
on a night so inclement. While he
thought thus he followed Mrs. Ire
garthen. regulating his own pace to
hers. This was shameful, and he turned
away, but only for a second. When he
looked again the fluttering figure was
gone, though there was no opening on
the street to right or left, and he had
seen her outlined like wavering sill
houette against the Strand lights, u
mere tract on of time ago. A special
puddle lay abreast of where he had last
seen her, noticeable because it caught
the lights of the bright street beyond
and reflected them like mirror laid
aslant. He kept his eyes upon this
landmark, and, though as he drew
closer the light faded from it, he knew
that he had not lost the place. He was
sure -with a keener pang than any
thing but the reviews had hitherto
caused him-that he had not lost the
place; for where the wind-beaten figure
had disappeared stood a swinging door,
and above it the triune globes of gold.
Poyertys storm-drum is mast high all
the year round.
The young man drew into the shadow
of corner, and watched The door, with
no memory of his scruples of half
minute back. 1t was not the business
of the moment to analyze the motives
which moved him, but they were nine
tenths made up Of pity and a helpless
wish to be of service. He had to wait
in the wind and rain for full five min
utes before the swinging-door opened,
and Mrs. Tregarthen reappeared,
heavily yelled, and ran against the
beating wind to the door of the board
ing-house, where she paused to use a
and then disappeared
swiftly.
At the thought of youth, and grace,
and genius brought to such pass as
this the poet was grieved, and he
walked miserahly away, not seeing
how to be of use, but brrdened with a
heavy sense of the necessity for doing
A man may be brimful of
Il stc,l,