The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1893-09-08


mad, Virginia. l could tear myself to
pieces"
He walked to the window and for o
moment hid his face ON his arm. But
she did not stir save to lean her open
palms upon the table, as if bracing her.
self to speak to him when the first
strength of his stormy despair had died.
"Look," he muttered wildly, tearing
the soiled manuscript from an inner
pocket, "here it is, pressing like stone
against my heart. When went into the
theater, Virginia, 1 felt almost as if /
had conquered. When l came out, /
walked the streets blind. l was con-
scious of nothing but an awful ache and
GOODNESS"
A shade born of intense feeling passed
over Virginits face. Dare she utter the
truth that burned her? 1t might seem
cruel to him now, but in the end it would
be merciful.
She moved so that the last bars of day
light fell upon her face. Her eyes met
his.
"And do you despair so easilyT she
asked clearly. "You are holding out
your hands to fame, and because she
does not push her treasures into your
blind grasp for your first asking you rail
at her GOODNESS. Success is worth more
than that, Tom. or it's worth nothing"
"For my first askingT" he stammered
hotly. sis this my first play?"
"But in writing the others you only
served an apprenticeship. They were
weak and false-no, don't look angry.
Let me tell you the truth now and help
you if can. Did you write of anything
you knew or feltp Did you look into
your own heart and write? No, Tom,
not even in this one did you do that. II
is better than the others, but still only
superficial study. Write of life, Tom,
DEAR" she said, and going still nearer tc
him clasped her fierce little hands around
his arm, her accents sounding inspired
on the silence. "Life!-it is the watch.
word of the new school,"
"You didn't say this before. You lei
me plan and build like the conceited
dolt was"
Tom turned away in blind, unreason.
ing rage. His kindest critic had gone
over to the enemy. If he had come tc
her suffering from physical wound and
she had struck him in the face, it could
not have seemed more awful than this
wanton tearing down of his faith in him
self.
Would it have been better, wonder
Well, perhaps. But as you read me the
play saw how you loved it. One dis
couraging sentence spoken then just when
you were thinking of leaving the college
would have panied you too much.
couldn't say it, Tom. 1 couldn't hurt
you SO. Besides 1 doubted my judgment
and waited"
She paused and threw back her head
How fearless, how loyal she looked, as
her eyes flashed and her lips smiled!
Now it has failed as ] feared. But
what of that2 l know you well-have
we been friends so1ong for Nottingham
1 say that when you have fought harder
battles and perhaps failed again, wher
you have suffered more, the men anG
women you write of will be human. Some
day you will be all expect you to be. J
know it. believe in you, Tom"
He could not see her face now, but The
sense of her nearness touched him with
a swift, evanescent feeling of delight
Something in her voice disturbed his
heart again to dawning hope and a rioi
of feverish questioning.
II believe in you, Tom" A forecast
Of triumph rang in the words.
There was not time for more conf
dences before light, irregular footster
sounded in the hall. Virginia hurriedly
lit the lamp and looked intently at hel
father as he opened the door.
What she saw there gave quick
strained anxiety to her expression, IRE
sistibly touching.
He was a striking figure. His small
pink and white face and delicate features
told nothing Of the insensate excuses il
which fortune had been squandered
Sixty years of life had whitened the hail
falling like floss from bald crown, bui
he did not cry quarter to Time. Age hat
come and found him rebellious. He KEEP
his chin up and never confessed that
fierce premonitory tremors passed at UNI
looked for moments over his frame.
His clothes were youthful and I'M
usual. A cream colored coat, worn at
the seams, but stainless, fitted tightly, |
foppishly at the waist and fell in clerical |
frock to the knees. A long brown cape |
was folded across his breast after the |
manner Of a shawl. He belonged to the |
past quite as much as the house he lived |
in. As he swayed uncertainty in the
doorway he seemed to have steppedfrom
a forgotten canvas TO be for single mo-
mort embodied in the lamnight.
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.