Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1888-04-19


best time for her purpose.
Dear Frank" she wrote at the end
OF a pitiful little letter. 81 am going
to ask younot to come here next week.
This will surprise you, for in all nv
other letters have told you that
what : most look forward to in life is
your visits. But have been thinking.
dear, that it viii be best for us to
part forever. ] often ask myself if we
love one another as much
as we did, and | am afraid
we do not. A loveless married life
would be too dreadful to live through,
aud dare not risk it. 1t is better
that the parting should come through
me. Do notfancy that lam reproach-
ing you; cannot, for to me you are
above reproach, above blame. All |
| feel Is that our affection is colder, so
We had better part. God bless you
Frank can never tell you how deep
ly have loved you. ELSIE
Frank was almost stunned by the
receipt OF this letter. He read it and
re-read it until every word seemed
burned into his BRAN. That thegirls
love for him was less, he did not be.
lieve; he could read undiminished af.
lection in the vague phraseology, ir
the studied carefulness to take equal
blame on herself. That she should be
jealous was out OF the question; long
years OF experience had taught him
that this was totally foreign to her
trustful nature. There was but one
conclusionto come to. She had given
him up because she thought his hap.
plness involved Yet she wished him
TO be free; might it not be ungracious
TO refuse TO accept her gift2
Free, There was terrible fascina-
ton IN the sound. Be the bondage
ever so pleasant, be it even preferable
to liberty itself, the idea of freedom is
lrresistably alluring II the same
bondage will be chosen again, there is
delight in the consciousness that it
VIII be your wnuntrammelled choice.
Frank was aware OF wild exultation
when he realized the fact that he was
a free agent, In the first flush of lib
erty, poor Elsie's image faded out of
sight, and that of the siren took its
place. Now without wrong be might
follow his inclinations. He determin-
ed to write to Elsie, but knew not
what to say, and put it of till the
morrow.
There could be no harm in going to
the house of his fascinator; it was
pleasant to think that he might now
speak, think, look, without any men,.
tai reservation: there would be no long
er any need to watch his actions or to
force back the words that would tell
her that she exercised deadly power
over him. The girl received him with
a winning smile, yet when he touched
her hand, he did not feel his brain
throb or his blood rush madly through
his veins as he had expected He bore
his part through the evening quietly,
and owned that it was pleasant one;
still, the flavor was not what he had
expected. He called to mind that
when be was abroad for the first time,
he had been served with a peculiar
dish, which he remembered and often
longed for when unattainable After
several years, he had visited the same
cafe and ordered the same dish. The
same cook prepared it and the same
waiter served 1t, but the taste was not
the same; expectation had heightened
the flavor, and the real was inferior
to the ideal.
So it was with Frank. Before, when
the siren had seemed unattainable,
he had luxuriated in her beauty, adj
mired her grace andgenius and rev.
elled in her wit; now. when he felt he
might call these his own, his eve began
TO detect deficiencies. The girl noted
his critical attitude, and chaied at the
calmness OF his keen, watchful glance.
Where was the open admiration she
used to read in his eyes! Piqued at
his indifference, she grew silent and
irritable, and when he bade her fare
well, both were conscious that an ideal
had been shattered.
He buttoned his overcoat, and pre-
pared for long walk to the lonely
chambers where he lived the usual
careless, eomfortless life OF bachelor
whose purse is limited. All TIE way
home he submitted himself TO a deep
and critical examination. He felt as
if he was sitting by the ashes OF fail
ing fire which he had no means of re-
plenishing; the night was coming, and
he must sit in the cold II passion
died out, where was he to look for the
sympathy, the respect, the true friend
| illness which alone can suDnly Its place
IN married lIiez Then he thought OF
Elsie. He had made mistake,
but a very common mistake. He
had thought that the excitement. of
his interest, the enchanting of his
fancy, and the enthrallment OF his
senses, was love, and 10, it was only
passion. He analysed his feelings
more deeply yet, and getting below
the snrface-currents which are stirred
By the winds, saw that the quiet
waters beneath had kept answering
ly on their course.
When he reached his chambers he
sat down by his table and drew paper
| and ink toward him. II shall not
accept your dismissal, Elsie, !" he wrote,
| hurriedly, in answer to her piteous
letter; Il should be very shallow if |
could not read the motive which
prompted your letter. l shall come
| down as usual, and We will talk over
it till we understand each ether fully.
Till then, you must believe me when j
tell you that love you all the more
| for your act of sacrifice, and that
| love you more now than nave ever
done before"
Frank and Elsie have been long
married, and arecontent. There is no
fear of his swerying again; but the
arent described left its mark on Frank.
He knows now that he mas on the
verge of committing a plevous ms
/ take, and one which might have DARK
ened all his future life. For it is not
great events, involving tragedies and
tears, that impress themselves NEST
deeply upon the body of our habits
and thoughts; but the tendency OF our
| life, as in the case before US, is often
most deeply affected by what is no
-aore than 'aneyery-day occurrence
Feeling in Amputated Limbs.
| From the Detroit Free Press.
In a recent issue of the Free Press
noticed an item regarding feeling IN am