Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1893-04-30

now tn0 uOCtOE edyo-Suo III Ac'St ~
better" She stopped, and choked down
something. He tried helplessly to inter-
rupt, but she went on. i've been writ
Ing for these sort Of papers for some
time-HousehoLd Chatter, the Family
Cupboard, and the Weekly Want. Chiefly
for the Weekly WGnt-they pay hail.
a-guinea a column, and regularly on
publication. and the editor has been very
kind to me. He had promised to take
another short story, and l sat down
to write In one night-mother was
asleep-and l could not think. l could
not think-nothing wouln come" She
stretched her arms out on the table be-
fore her, and looked with a sort OF
blank desolation across at the opposite
wall, with il cheap paper patterned
with punches OF impossible roses.
Nothing would come-nothing. And
1 wanted the money! wanted the
money so badly"
The successful novelist, who worked
for name and fame, and lore OF his art,
looked at the girl, who had written for
dear life, who had sat drearily alone In
the night. insuficlently fed, he guess
ed, cudgeling her weary brain for the
thoughts and the words that would not
come; and he felt vaguely his indigna-
ton about literary theft was slipping
away from him, and that, il she were
TO help herself to his forthcoming serial,
he would probably look on In silence.
~ tried" she said; II never tried so
hard before, but it was no use-my
head was so hot, and things went round,
and there was no thought anywhere.
Then somehow 1 remembered some bun
dies Of papers which belonged TO my
only brother, who died years ago. /
wondered if be had left anything that
would do. I went 10 the box where
they were and got them out and looked
them over. There was-that story. |
saw it was not David's; it was not his
writing, and it was signed 81. b. But
I took it. knew 1t was stealing"
Don't" be said.
81 knew il was stealing" she re-
peated, ''but there was nothing else to
do. ! couldn't think, a~nd-mother was
lying there. Icopied it out, and l took
IL TO MIR. Johnton in the morning. He
was very kind. told him about mother,
and he paid me then"
She paused, and looked across at him.
the big strained gray eyes gazing at him
from the thin white face.\
Twill you wait till mother dies before
you tell Mr.. johnson? He would give
me more work"
GOOD Heaven!" he cried. "What do
you take me for? Do you suppose that
any mortal being will ever hear it from
my lips? 1 make you a present OF the
miserable thing-aud--and-'
Perhaps he had been going to throw
the serial into the bargain.
"You are good" she said; 81 do thank
you for your mercy. II can't pay you
what | got just uow," she wen on pain
fully. "the money is nearly spent. But
l shall send IL TO you neutrality-suspicious.
ever l haye enough. l have your ad-
DRESS" and her eyes fell Oh his card
lying on the table.
'Oh," he said, desperately, getting
up, cant you understand don't want
it? The story is yourS-I have given it
to you"
II must pay it," she said. And then
she moved across the room to the writ
ing table and turned over some Of the
papers lying there till she found what
she sought, and held it out to him.
THAT is it-your manuscript"
MHe took it and looked at it curiously
a moment. He recognized the old thing,
and thought OF the vague ambitions
that had stirred him when he wrote IT.;
of how, later, they had developed and
taken shape; OF how, now, some were
attained. Then he tore the Ms. across
once or twice and threw the fragments
into a waste basket which stood beside
the writing table.
That is the end OF IT," he said. az
think no evidence remains now that l
aver had anything to do with the tale.
Please forget that ! had, Miss Heather
ington."
'You are good" she said again, clasp
ing her hands. And then a weak, rather
auerul0us call OF "Frances" came from
the next room. 81 must go-it's mother.
will you-? haven't been able to
say"
Don't say anything please" he in
%terrupted. Forgive my intrusion, and
don't let me keep you from your
mother"
He held out his hand. She paused a
moment, then let him take hers. A
minute later he had found his waYdown
| stairs, and let himself out at the street
door.
He meditated deeply on his way back,
with brows drawn, and a generally dis
satisfied expression. He had always
felt strongly on the subject OF literary
honesty; that one author should help
himself TO the plot or ideas OF another
was TO him the height OF immortality,
and this was a case OF wholesale theft.
1t was, perhaps, somewhat surprising
that the result OF his musings, expressed
audIbly after he had entered his cham
bers and sat down before q bunch Of
proofs which awaited him, should be:
"And the devil OF it all is can't
write q cheque and send it off to the
girl. II it were another man, now-or,
II Annette were In town. perhaps she
could do something. But / daren't-
that girl would not let me. l suppose |
can only let things alone now-I almost
wish l had done that from the begin
ning."
He did let things alone for six weeks,
and then one afternoon when be came
in he found q letter which had evil
IDENTIFY been delivered by hand. He
opened 1t, aud q small packet dropped
out, which upon investigation, proved
to contain two sovereigns, one half SOW
ereign, two shillings and ~sixpence.
Rather mystifed, he turned to the let
ter and read:
DEAR SIR have not been able to
send you the money which l obtained
for your story sooner, IL did not make
quite five columns, but Mr.. Johnson
pniI M fnr Ahnt inNlncn ftun nnnnda