Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1893-04-20

| L VI Mdlolc uONeu enClrely In the at.
mosphere OF that overrich American
city world. where ten tho Ssand q
year passes for comfortable .nedioc-
rity, and where people Sou~X wealth
not by hundreds, but by millions.
If only she had Mammals ten
thousand a year, though, all of her
own! Perhaps, considering his ply
steal and mental admiration for her,
Jose Mansfield might consent to &C.
cept her at that figure!
For Maisie Bowman knew we'll she
was exceedingly beautiful She knew
we'll she had a perfect body, faultless,
and well-proportioned from head to
foot, sculpturesque yet lissome in
every act, gesture, and movement.
She knew, too, Jose Mansfield ad-
mired her much. She could see him
running over her good gifts in his
minds eye, in observant catalogue,
every time he met her. She could see
him summing her up as a grand fine
creature, physically and intellectually
his natural complement.
After about fort nights time, the
poet, quite abstractedly, and as if in
a fit of forgetfulness, addressed her
one day all on q sudden as "Maisie."
The color came up once more into
the proud girls face-not into her
heck alone, but flushing her rosy red
crom neck and ears to forehead.
"You like me to call you Maisie,"
the strong man went on, looking down
on her, and smiling that curious
smile of his as of ineffable condescen-
sion. "Well, you're right; quite right.
And you may call me Jose. if YOU
like-when there's nobody by. Soul
comes nearer to soul without these
tiimsy barriers. Mr. and Miss are
mere stockades invented by conven-
tionality to guard the outworks of in
dividual life from hostile intrusion.
But when friendly forces advance to
tune like our own, we may hang out
a white flag and draw up the portculf
Uses. Why these walls and obstacles
between you and me, Maisie? We
both belong by nature to the free and
open prairie. The vast horizons of
the West are ours. Let us haul down
our pennons and demolish our forti-
fcations."
A tenderer flush came over Maisie's
| face.
GAS you will, Jose" she answered
low. "Iou see accept your terms
without reserve. begin the disarma-
ment."
For ten days more, Maisie's life ran
more trenulous than she herself could
easily have imagined it beforehand.
Almost every afternoon or evening
she met Jose somewhere. The poet
managed that. He was attracted by
the girl. He made it half-recognised
condition OF his acceptance with host
esses. "Nliss Bowman will be there, l
suppose" he said, with quiet air OF
suggestion, when they asked him to
their houses. And hostesses, who
wished to secure the lion OF the day,
made haste to answer quickly, "Nliss
Bowman will be there, OF course, Mr..
Manstield-if you wish it,
| So they met, and talked, and grew
familiar with one another; yet the
poet never breathed one word as to
Intentions" He talked to Maisie
always in the vague language of ad-
mlration, OF sympathy, of imperson.
al homage; but never in that of the
thing called love, as Maisie under
stood it, "We two belong in the soul
to the higher freemasonary," he said
to her once, as he leaned over her
chair in the gloom OF senatorial con-
servatory. eve comprehend one an
other. The moment saw you'll, the
poet Of the wide west-bold, free, un-
trammelled-l said to myself conf
IDENTIFY, See! the female of my kind!
The complement OF my being! With
women like this nature meant me to
consort-not with feeble, stunted
lives, distorted forms, warped soul
shapes
But he never said to her outright,
in so many woras, "Maisie, love
you; as 1loveyou. will you marry me?"
What could he mean by it, Maisie
wondered to herself many a time in
silence. She was intoxicated now with
the strong new wine of love. But
Jose? Did he love her? Or was he
Just like the others, after all? Did he
admire and approve OF her, but not
enough to care for passing fetime
in her company?
Or, again, could it be this? He was
poor, vain, handsome. He knew his
own worth. He admired her very
much; but didn't mean to go cheap.
Could he be on the look out for an
heiress?-very rich, very powerful?
Was he waiting for some Nevada silver
kings daughter?
The thought drove her wild Oh, if
she had only mammals money for her
own! That calm, comrlacent, i'm
passive mamma, leaning back in her
carriage as though the solar system
belonged to her. What was ten thou
sand to her, in her stout, middle-aged
self-satisfaction? Ii Maisie had but
owned herself-oh, Jose!
| One evening: at last, he stood lean
ing over her as he loved to do, and
watching her close for every change of
emotion on that clear-cut face of hers.
| Why did he eye her so hard; why note
the rise and fall OF that snow-white
bosom? Vaguely Maise felt he was
preparing bombshell for her. He
was toying with ring on his finger.
"Who gave you that, JOSEF" she
asked, half trembling.
And he answered her without