The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1893-01-12
CHAPTER III.
INTOXICATION,

AS Tor Malsle, she spent the evening
in whirl of mental intoxication.
And she went home by herself in
mammals carriage, and Law awake
half the night through, thinking of
Jose Mansfield.
He was thirty-fve, tall, handsome,
brilliant. What had he come to
Washington for if not to marry her?
Hitherto Maisie's thoughts had been
but of Vanderbilts and Astors. She
scared no higher than mere million
aires; she meant to marry money,
diamonds, dinner parties; house in
Fifth Avenue, near Central park; a
villa at Newport; q summer home
among the trees at Saratoga. But
now, as far her nature permitted all
that was altered. She felt her wings.
Inner coldly egotist way, Maisie Bow
man had fallen in love at first sight
with the poet. A new ideal in life
opened up before, This rhymer, he
had more, after all, than millions; he
had brilliancy, originality, genius, wit.
All the world made much of him. Mai
sic didn't yet know how short-lived was
that fame-the fame of the last lion,
of the comet of q season. If only she
could marry Jose Mansfield, she
thought, why, all would GO we'll with
her. Provided only she had mammals
money. Better ten thousand q year
with that king among men in Wash
ington avenue, than all the wealth of
Vanderbilt with an empty-headed
person immersed in Erie AS and the
rise and fall of New York Centrals.
1t was Maisie's nearest possible ap-
proach to g. higher ideal. Jose Mans
field had touched the finest chords
within her-such as they were. And
it's something to have reached ones
own very best. However poor that
best may be, it gives the internally
strange sense of elevation. In that
FOOLS paradise of young love Maisie
Bowman was now revealing.
For the next few weeks Maisie saw
much of Jose Mansfield; saw much,
and thought much of him. The feel
inr deepened upon her that he'd come
to Washington in search of wife. A
poet must have money to hold his
own in the world. How degrading to
genius, acknowledged genius, this
sordid living in a hotel. instead of in
habiting his own palatial, artistic
home; this receiving of hospitalites
which he couldn't possibly reciproate!
For Maisie moved entirely in the at
mosphere of that overrich American
city world, where ten thousand q
year passes for comfortable medioc-
rity, and where people count wealth
not by hundreds, but by millions.
Ii only she had Mammals ten
thousand year, though, all of her
own! Perhaps, considering his ply
steal and mental admiration for her,
cept her at that figurel
For Maisie Bowman knew we'll she
was exceedingly beautiful. She knew
well she had O. 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 fortnight's time, the
poet, quite abstractedly, and as if in
fit of forgetfulness, addressed her
one day all on a 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. "Welb 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
flimsy 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
a tune like our own, we may hang out
q 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 forth
fications."
A tenderer flush came over Maisie's
face.
"As you will, Jose," she answered
low. you see accept your terms
without reserve. begin the disarma-
ment."
For ten days more, Maisie's life ran
more tremulous than she herself could
easily have imagined it beforehand.
Almost every afternoon or evening