Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1893-12-09

herent IN his nature. The waywardneSS
rolled like sea, only to break upon thi:
as upon bar and surge back strength
less and abortive. No, he could not lie
to him. His glance wavered, the cigar
dropped FROM his trembling fingers, he
moved little nearer Felix Dawson, his
heart in his eyes.
What will you do? Wait before you
speak. Hear me-" He stopped sudden,
ly, pierced to the heart. my God
what must you think of me:'
What do think of your" asked Daw.
son, the low, resonant voice suddenly
quivering with contempt. Il would not
touch your hand for all the money in
the world if l starved tomorrow. You
seem to me like n rich man who searches
through a beggar's rags and steals his
last coin. You are utterly detestable to
me- You coward! You thiefr'
Tom started and flung back his head.
No, I'm not that. I'm not what you
believe. l didn't rob You of your one
possession and add it to my many.
took it when l was mad with despair.
Eou must believe me-you must. 1t
was here i'll this very room" and he held
out his arms, looking around the place,
an almost childish pleading in his eyes.
Il came in knowing l had failed. l &C
cepted defeat with what agony perhaps
You can guess. 1t was then read Your
play for the first time. More than a wear
/ had passed since YOU left it, and thought
You dead. 1t would mean nothing to
You, everything to Inc. took it. ask
You again, what will You do:"
There was understanding in Felix
Dawson's eyes, but no softening His
heart was like wrung out sponge-it
knew no extremes. The one passion left
him was a morbid love for the play he
/ had written.
Poor, wronged dead men. They can.
not all come back as l have done. But
unfortunately for YOU" he said, with a
| slight curl of his lip, Il was not dead.
/ came here three times in the summer
| following. The place seemed shut up.
| The rest of the time l have spent in a
hospital. Facing death and eternity, 1
forgot life. l forgot You. God has
cursed me for many Years, and never
bent to the rod. And now, when had
thought the long, bitter day was to end
i'll storm and darkness. there is a prom
Use of Il new dawn"
You meant and the words were a
terrified breath on TOMS lips.
What can 1 mean but that Won are to
give ire my play" he cried.
Il can't. Don't you see that it is i'm
possible-now:'' The prayer had gone
from Toms voice 1t was logged, des-
perate. I'll give You every penny l get
for it, but my name must stand as its
author. To acknowledge your right
would be confessing my theft That
refuse TO do. 1t would mean social dis
grace. Do You understands"
DawSon'S face was terrible in its scorn.
Money won't content me-"
See here. could have denied Your
right to this play-lled 10 Your teeth.
But didn't. Fac" to face in this silent
room | have been honest with YOU.
would undo it all if could. God knows
how readily" Ale paused. and his voice,
though quiet. was like the strokes of
steel upon steel But before the world
it will I've different. If you have no
mercy on my position. I'll have none on
you. will swear if need be that the
play Is mine from the first word TO the
last. l tell Won it will be an unequal
struggle, and l will win. Cranks and
blaCkmailers abound in New York. You
will be classed among them and be for
gotten. You'd better accept my terms.
link again. Take the money. I'll be
glad 70 give it 10 you. But the play
must remain mine. 1t is too late for
anything else. Don't You see: Can't
YOU see:
Dawson seemed scarcely to listen TO
MN he was looking past him, faint,
dreamy smile upon his pale lips.
That's Your view of the situation.
Now hear mine. I've been trying for is
years 10 touch success. I've always Just
missed it. l made my last throw when
l wrote DR.. Fleming and it won.
Money: Do you think money will make
Gp for the loss of the thing most precious
to lie: Deny me rs You will; I'll take
my chances. You've robbed me of what
love. That play was friend and sweet
heart. ire and food, 10 me for year. 1t
is part of ne. All have hoped and
suffered appears in its lines like a retlec-
ton i'll II glass. Oh, yes, I'll have it
back"
he walked 70 the door, the blush dusk
shading his white, earnest, clear cut
face, and clothing him with mystery.
Long after he was gone Tom stood
listening to the splaShing of the rain.
His brain was afre with questions.
Dawson would accuse him, but it
would amount to nothing; he would DO
thought man driven frantic by misfor-
tune. But the money-that was diff
fcrent matter and an unpleasant one
He would never put another penny of
the plays payments 10 his own use. They |
must be saved for Felix Dawson-saved
secretlS-and some day he might DO in
duced to accept them. This meant sud |
den poverty for himself and might excite |