St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1891-09-13
A FAIR JILT.
Rhen Love and Revenge Clash, Then What

trite attempt at consolation.
Granted. my dear fellow, but when
the tackle breaks after you've played a
fish four years it doesn't seem worth
while to go on deep sea fishing"
WAS it a four-years' AFFAIR."" asked
Reginald Dawson, in surprised tone,
such extraordinary consistency being al
most beyond his comprehension. 81
had no idea it had lasted anything like
SO long,"
-Four years." repeated Greg, dole.
fully. 1--WE were engaged before she
was seventeen. What was she? A no.
body; earned her livelihood by singing
in a sort of choir. Parents poor. She
was uncommonly pretty, and fell head
over heels in love with her. l ought to
have married her"
"Why on earth didn't you?"
81 dare not risk it, old boy. It's all
very well to say what will keep one will
keep two. Just figure it out, and you'll
find it won't. | was doing pretty well
when | first knew her-about three
hundred year-but 1 wanted to do bet
ter, so threw up my journalistic work
and went in for fiction-free lance bust
ness, you know"
"Well?"
~ just about keep myself in clothes
and cigars the first year, and l was six
months before | earned penny. l
couldn't press her her to share that,
could I?'
mo. Bread and cheese and kisses
nre all very well in theory but you can't
live on them"
II would have risked it ii had been
sure of the future. The fact is, got
down-hearted: thought | was going 20
be a failure, and | dare say | wasn't
quite so attentive lover as | had been.
Well, things greatly improved. could
see daylight. Presently the sun shone,
and pressed her to marry me-"
And she refused?"
No; some confounded entrepreneur
had discovered that she possessed d
splendid voice, and induced her to have
it properly trained. She put me Oft:
said she wanted a name before she
married; advised me to wait; assured
me nothing would ever change her; she
woul marry me or nobody. was to be
patient and work hard. Good advice,
but Eli defy fellow as hard hit as
was to be patient. TO cut it short, her
voice turned out success; she became
popular, the rage. Her portraits got
into the shop windows. She was made
much of wherever she went. L failed
to keep pace with her, and now she's
an oratOrio singer and engaged TO a
banker, while l-well-l have wished
somebody would shoot me through the
head and put me out of my misery. All
the light has gone out of my life.
'''I have no interest in my work, and
no energy. So long as l can earn enough
to pay my landlady, don't care. The
worst of it is my reckless mood is re-
flected In my work. Here"-and Greg
took packet of MS. from the tablets
a Declined with thanks Being an
old contributor, the editor has obliged
me with the reason why, Altogether
too cynical. Insufficient love interest,"
You may not know ii, but magazine
story without love interest is like roly-
poly pudding with the jam left out. The
public wants the jam and will have it
or go without the pudding; and how am
/ to write of faith and trust and the love
that never dies, but comes up smiling
every spring? Ican't do it. By the by,
if ever yOu get desperately fond of a
woman keep her under your eyes in the
spring of the year. It's dangerous
time"
why more so than autumn, or sum-
mer, or winter? ?"
ASK the poets. know it and they
know it, and this is the truth the poet
sings But weary you with my tale
of woe?"
mo, daresay 1t does you good to re-
lieve your mind. l wish / could help
you, old fellow. Where is Rosie now?"
"In the north of England, visiting the
bankers friends. / have been thinking
of a trip to Australia. But Unjust shake
pff this awful depression. Now, what
would you do?"
Reginald Dawson was rising young
barrister with a remarkably practical
way of looking at things. He was SYM
pathetic, too. and poor Tilted Greg could
not have gone to better man for ad-
vice.
"ln certain cases of poisoning" he
said, laying down his cigar, "a stronger
poison is given to the patient as an anti
dole. You want an antidOte."
''Well?"
The antidote should be of a similar
nature to the poison. Love is passion.
You love Rosie and she has Tilted you.
rs love. Consequently revenge is your
Rntidote."
''What" Greg cried, springing to his
feet, "do you advise me to take Rosie's
life because she has made mine not
worth living?"
''Well, not exactly"
''How else can | be revenged upon
her?"
This way. Rosie is an artist. So
are you. The artistic temperament is a
peculiar one. Sooner or later she will
detest her money-grubbing husband.
Her thoughts will turn to you. She
will find you famous-at the top of the
tree, and she will never he happy again.
Here. then, is your revenge. Her life
will be one long regret that she Tilted
you. Don't brood over the past. Go to
work. Throw your whole energy into
1t. and you are sure of success. And
then, even if she is wholly soIdid and
utterly heartless-if your success does
rot cause her single pang. you will, at
least, have saved yourself"
You are right" said Greg, after a
Ing. Henceforth | work for revenge. .
Had the question of revenge cropped
up in an ordinary professional consuIta-
ton Reginald Dawson would have
promptly secuted it.
Revenge be hanged! 1t doesn't pay
Miss Rose Thornton sat before a
bright fire in her own pretty drawing
room. She had been singing at con-
cert in Her Majesty's theater, and wore
dress designed for the footlights. One
Shapely, bare arm rested on a tiny table,
Uttered with photographs and other
odds and ends; the other supported as
lovely head as ever cantatrice pos
SeSsed.
No wonder poor Greg felt his disap-
pointment keenly. Her beauty was not
of the type that takes the male heart by
storm; but rather that which grows
upon one gradually. and when once
realized, is never effaced.
She took two photographs from the
table and compared them. One repre-.
scented stout, keen-looking man OF
middle age: the other the frank, fail
face of Gregory Moore.
Eyes, Greg is certainly much better
looking than Sir John," she unused
Poor fellow! ] wonder if he evel
thinks of me. Strange how circum
stances alter opinions. How happy he
made me when he told me he loved me
How fortunate | thought myself, poor
little beggar that | was. All. we'll,
suppose he thinks / treated him badly
So | did, and it was very mean of me
d.