Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1892-08-03

she faltered. 81 have been poor. Won
know; We were very poor, mother and
L, until Uncle Ned took us in. I am
not brave enough to face that life
again" ii'e
"Fhen goodbye, Grace, good-bve
The words forced themselves from
nis bursting heart. He seized her
nands' kissed them passionately, and
IN moment she heard his footsteps
ringing on the polished floor.
That was years ago. The poets heart
was tanned. The souls soaring wings
were clipt, its pinions dragged sadly
on the rough way of life ere the am
oitious lad had been beaten and
moulded into the clever, brilliant
writer who could turn his pen to what
ever the market demanded. Austin
Sorel, with times traces on his face.
the light In his eyes quenchei, and
grey hairs on his brow, was completely
disillusioned. Slowly and gradually
the world had done its work, but he
could look back to that hour when the
first stroke on the anvil of life had
crushed his heart. That wound had
never been healed. 1t had slept, and
tonight it had been rudely torn open
to ache again with the old madness and
pain. He passed in review his life as
he stood there with the brilliancy of
light on one side, the aching darkness,
OF the dim city on the other, ere he
turned to his work again.
With a steady hand he picked ND the
two MSS. that had carried his thoughts
to the dim years of youth. One came
from lady who was leader in So
ciety, poor and trivial, but well did
Austin Sorel know it was the kind of
stuff his public demanded. He laid it
aside to be used.
The other he held for a moment in
his hand, half caressingIy ere he placed
1t among those to be returned to the
authors with the Editors thanks. 1t
was little story written tenderly,
gracefully, into which had been poured
the world of pathos and of passion they
call a woman's heart. Had Austin
Sorel used the MS, one half of his
readers would have laughed, the other
half would have sneered. Why that
MS. had stirred his heart Sorel did not
know. 1t was only such as he often
| found in the chosen MSS. that came
| from his readers. Not even the hand
writing was familiar.
1t was nearly eleven o'clock.
The Editor threw down his pen with
relief. His work was done. lie sprang
up and threw on a heavy mantle over
/ his evening dress, and, fastening down
stairs, called a hanson. He was ex-
| pected in the brilliant scene to which
/ he was quickly borne along, and though
his lips curled little scornfully as he
stepped in among society's pets and
perfumed darlings, though he had a
soul above trivialitles, he was human,
and it pleased him to te fiattered as
clever women of the world can hatter
With reproach in her eyes, Lady
! Christian Kirke beckoned him to her
side. AS he stood looking down on
her perfect face, answering her ques-
| tions about the last Ms. she had sent,
Turing from him compliments he hated
| to pay on the literary talent that was
hers in a very small degree, Sorel felt
| a contempt for himself and his world
stealing into life
In the grey dawn he walked home
aIone-moody, irrituted, discontented.
Certain words he had meant to speak,
words Lady Christian had expected,
had remained unuttered, and his dis
content was tempered by relief. He
know quite we'll that Lady Christian
was willing to be his wife-the wife o.
the man whose name was honored fol
his intellect, as we'll as for his unsullied
record IN an age when a noble life
raises wonder in the hearts of thos'
who have no desire to be higher thar
the commonplace. Lady Christian di,
not love him; of course not. Sh'
would have laughed at the idea of low
between a man and a woman OF tn
world. A few days ago he would hav'
laughed too, but in these last hours
that had all changed. He parted from
Lady Christian in the grey dawn, an'
he remained free.