Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1893-03-23
Saint Marv's Beacon
eERTRuDE's QuIx0TIc LOVER.

-ay, and do it cheerfully, uncom-
plainingly, with no blazoning Of
the circumstance from the house
tops-has but little real claim to the
sacred denomination of friend. :"
The words were Vincent Rom
ney's own. He was reading, with
a strange sense of dual conscious
ness, an essay of his salad days
which had been compiled in o sud-
den access Of literary fervor, and
sent to half q dozen hard-hearted
Tor hard-headed) magazine editors
in turn. 1t had come back polite
ly, even affectionately, declined by
all, had found shelter in rarely
disturbed drawer Of an old bureau
for several years, and at last reap
peared to fulfil its mission.
That mission was to present in a
compact, concrete form an idea
which had been floating in a nebu-
lous condition in Vincent Romney's
mind for weeks, if not for months.
He read the high-fown sentiments
of his one bid for literary fame over
and over again, as though the key
to some enigma were there and might
escape any but the most patient and
microscopic scrutiny. Ultimately
he tossed the dingy and disfgured
manuscript back into its corner
with something between q sigh and
a groan, rose from his seat and be-
gan pacing the narrow parlor in a
mood sadly at variance with the
bright July sunshine which was
flooding the landscape without, and
wonld also have made this room a
very palace of the enchanter but
for Mrs. Cringle's solicitude for the
glories of her carpets and curtains.
Making practice square with
precept has always been an awk-
ward task in this world, suppose,
he soliloquized bitterly. 81 fancy
there have been a good many fail
ures in that line up to now. |
didn't think that paragraph yonder
was ever going to have a direct and
individual message for me-for its
writer ! But it is so. | scrubbed
it jauntily enough. l recollect the
very day and hour. And l believed
then every syllable put upon the
paper. The question is, do nOw
believe them ? and am | prepared
to act up to the conviction 20
He paused both in his monologue
and in his slow turning to and fro
on the line of frayed oil-cloth. He
was regarding. half-whimsically, the
fall-length portrait of himself that
confronted him in the mirror. He
beheld there a tall, well-built fellow
of perhaps six-and-twenty, with
features that would have passed as
handsome even with jury of fas-
tidious critics of his own sex. He
was noting, sardonically, the look
of haggard unhappiness those fea-
lures now wore and the incipient
storm-curve across his brow.
It's about time decision was
reached, one way or the other he
continued, 'or else my city friends
will think country air very detri-
mental to the complexion, and
I'll stand by my own assertion; I'll
make the sacrifice. Roger shall
have the battle in his own hands.
The resolution to which Vincent
Romney had SO painfully attained
was Quixotic one. With the whole
strength of a noble nature he loved
Gertrude Wynn, and mp to the be-
ginning of the past May he had
hoped that his passion was on the
fair road to be reciprocated. Then
Vincent's oldest and dearest friend,
Roger Berring, had come back from
o heightened stay at German uni
versity, and apparently had signal
lied his return by falling headlong
in love with the same young lady. |
If Vincent had taken him earlier |
into confidence, it might have been
different; he might have resisted |
the temptation. But now it would |
have been amusing, if to the obser-
YER the situation had been less Sc
rious, to see with what innocent
abandonment Roger sought Ger
trude's society to the exclusion of
his elder from that gracious pres
ence.
Watching the progress of this
idyl day by day, Vincent had ar
rived at the determination az n self
aonegating surrender. He
helped to the conclusion was
knowledse that his friend oy the