Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1886-03-11

AeeuIng my interruption. Less than
six months ago was the carrier of let
ter written by young lady named Rari-
den-Miss Helen Rariden-to Mr.. War
rack, the gentleman whose acquaintance
you have recently made This letter was
written in reply to one from him in which
he exhausted all the available adjectives
of the English language in the sincerest
avowals of love, closing with an offer of
his heart and handn
And the letter of which you were the
bearer contained
Her acceptance, he said, completing
my sentence. .Helen Rariden is beau
tiful woman, gifted, wealthy, and of ex-
cellent family. At the time parted from
her, or rather at the time she parted
with me, she loved this-fellow with all
her pure soul-loved him as man was
never loved before, and he doubtless
cared for her-then. "
The emphasis of this last word was de-
stroyed by pitiful sob, and for few
moments my friend was so moved that
he could not speak. I waited patiently
until he again began:
"Shortly after the engagement, which
naturally followed, Helen 4 take the lib
erty of SO calling herr was compelled to
accompany her mother to Europe on a
trip undertaken in the hope Of benefting
that lady's health. The parting of this
Mr.. Warrack with his promised bride
was tender and touching; was present
at the time in the gentleman's left-hand
coat-pocket, and felt the beating Of
Helen's heart with distinctness for few
moments / admit that it was an embar-
rassing position for me to occupy, but I
could not well withdraw, as I was then
very much attached to this letter. as am
now"
smiled at this bit of pleasantly, but
ny neighbor pressed convenient pen
wiper to his misty eyes and resumed his
narrative.
After Helen went abroad Warrack
was morose and melancholy for while;
he began several pictures with which to
occupy his mind-gloomy conceptions to
correspond with his state Of feelings. He
first began what he called Arthur and
Guinevere'-the parting scene, you know.
He sketched and daubed at it for week
or so, but kicked it off the easel one day
in fit of impatience. When Helen's
first letters came to him (they are in the
next drawer below, embellished with
cold, naughty foreign stamps), he replied
promptly and at great length-tender,
loving messages. Oh, how true he
was?"
The stamp smiled bitterly.
'sBut he soon became neglectful and
would toss Helen's notes into corner of
the desk and not even open them. Of
course, under these circumstances, Helen
did not write so often, and I soon began
to notice change in Warrack's manner.
He became cheerful and planned some
joyous pictures; oneof them, Spring
landscape, is on his easel now, and he has
ordered the canvas primed for contem-
plated work to be called The Lifting Of
the Clouds" 4"
'sAnd what is the cause of this sudden
change?" I asked
ssHe is interested in another direction,
was the reply.
"And what of Helen?" I inquired
"She is still true,n answered my friend
in tone of conviction.
This ended our conversation for the
time being. My fellow-lodger drew back
into dark corner and remained silent
for several days.
In the meantime Mr.. Warrack seemed
happy; he spent much time in singing
and whistling snatches of tunes, chiefly
from light operas. He painted little
when in the right mood, and observed
through the keyhole Of the drawer that
the Lifting of the Clouds was progress
ing finely. 1t was with pain that I
thought there might be some connection
between the title of the picture and the
growing coldness in the manner Of the
young people toward one another, judg-
ing from the dwindling of their CORE
spondence.
A few days after my conversation with
the elderly stamp Mr.. Warrick opened
our draw and threw in an unopened let
ter which he had Just received. AS soon
as he went out my friend examined it
eagerly. The envelope bore the card of
Venetian hotel and cancelled postage
stamp whose language we did not know.
s'From Helen2' said, interrogatively.
eyes" was the mournful reply
Time wore on. It is fashion time
has, even in the life Of lowly postage
Stamps. Spring came tripping down her
bright, dower-malled path, and the dark
ness of our habitation we felt the stir
ring Of reawakened life Mr.. Warrack
did not enter his studio for days at a
time. When / spoke of these long abb
senees to my chum he only answered in
the language Of Tennyson:
In the spring livelier iris changes on the
FURNISHED dove;
In the spring young mans fancy lightly
turns to thoughts Of love.
s'Turns to thoughts Of his new love
while he forgets the old. : suggested.
Poor Helenln he said. sOh, woman,
you alone are long-suffering and true
Spring, summer, and fall.
One bright autumn day, as my friend
and were conversing in our quarters.