Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1889-03-21
PENlNSULA'S CJANDARY.
A Thrilling Story Taken Bodily from
Real Life


Real Life.
[Note.-This remarkable story-published,
1t Is hardly necessary to say, exclusively by
The Tribune-is from advance sheets of Mr..
W-m D-n His next novel As
printed below it appears in somewhat con-
densed form, but contains all that is note
worthy in plot, incident and dialogue in the
entire story.l
A picturesquely commonplace. ordinary,
Unconditional New England day.
The sun having risen some three hours pre-
viously, was now about three hours high. Its
rays, shining in through the second story
back parlor window of plain frame dwell
ing house on quiet street in Dismalton, Lit
up split bottomed chair occupied by a thin
haired young woman evidently suffering
from heartburn The window, it should be
mentioned, was of ordinary construction,
being made of pine sash and OKLA or possibly
10xl4 glass. The putty had dropped off in
places, and the fastening at the top
Of the lower sash was partially broken
off, as if it had been hastily raised by insert
prying upward This might have been done
In a moment of forgetfulness by the auburn
haired and contemplative domestic who was
employed at stipend of $3.50 per week tc
do the cooking and look after the house.
The young woman who sat in the chair
was near sighted and wore steel trimmed
glasses. She was not handsome, but there
oHo,,t ha~ foo oxrv,t
its square jaw and aquiline nose, slightly red
dened at the tip, that sometimes caused per-
sons who met her to look at her a second time
Mother" she said to an angular matron
who entered the apartment, 81 am impressed
with the conviction-or perhaps should say
I am at times dimly conscious of an impress
sion-that this life of excitement is making
me slightly nervous"
And she put away the yarn stocking she
was darning and picked up late New Eng
land novel by Jenry Hames.
"Peninsula," said her mother after pause,
during which she had been vaguely watch
ing the uneasy slumbers of detected cat that
lay Imply on the rug before the fire, 81 think
you had better spend few months in Italy.
What shall we have for dinners'
II.
Three weeks later. Rome Vatican. Cat
acombs. Pigeons. Gloomy sunshine. Op-
pressive feeling of ennui.
Mother" said Peninsula, as the two stood
in front of the Pamphilia-Doria palace, isn't
that aged horse terribly lame? All, me!
What is life good for wonder, anyhow
my daughter" replied the mother, with
dreary yawn, as she aimlessly looked at her
watch and remembered she had not wound
It since she left Dismalton, tive will go to
Venice"
Gondolas St. Marks. Pervading damp
ness, odors Of garlic and pensive memories
Of Venetian Days Continuation of ennui.
Mother, yearn for my New England
home Life here Is so intense, so aquatic,
SOL
81 know it, my daughter. And the eggs
are too Oriental want you should not be-
come too much excited. Remember how the
story of Annie Quillburn worked upon your
sensitive nature"
"Mother!" exclaimed Peninsula, in a voice
Of hopeless melancholy, 1--WE will return
home"
Dismalton. Another ordinary New Eng
land day. The mother and daughter alighted
from the two seated carryan had their
trunks carried into the house, paid the man,
and went in. They had returned home A
few more chunks Of putty had fallen from
the second story back window, and the cat
was rather thinner than formerly. Other
wise the place was unchanged.
"What time is it, mothera"
81 think" said the mother, looking at the
sun, "it must be about II o'clock. Or half
past" she added, refectively.
v.
The evening shades had fallen, but faint
odor of boiled cabbage still pervaded the
quiet New England home There was
knock at the front door. The bell, it should
be explained, was out Of repair.
The caller was shown into the parlor.
81 have called, Peninsula, to"-
The young village doctor paused moment
to suppress an. involup. AIRY spasmodic action
that looked like yawn. but may have been
hiccough-
II have called, Peninsula, to ask if you will
marry me-"
''Fotheringay," she answered. looking at
the hickory wood fire in the CRATE with pain
full incertitude, II cannot say whether will
or not"
THE END