The times., 1893-12-15

Anu q uuIiiluS Si"hNo was udSQeu ~
him from beneath Toms lowered lies.
my opinion about marriage has moi
altered in the least. But if a man can
only fail. if he can't even support him.
self. the most practical thing is to find
some woman silly enough to shoulder
the responsibility.
"Go Oh. Your English grows more
vigorous day by day. It's really lib
eral education to be allowed to hear you
Surely you haven't finished yet. Yon
said more than this yesterday"
mo, haven't finished. want to re.
mind you once more that you owe MT
money. More than that, want it. Tn
sick of your spiritless languor. | never
knew man let himself drop as you
have done. Because you go at rapid
pace is no hson why You should die
mentally. haven't. But you can't
Y drink at all without drinking too much
nd keeping it up too long. In fact. you
Ware an extremist in everything. There's
o genius in moderation"
''Don't stop for breath. am a-thirsi
for the rest. More-more." said Tom
without moving an eyelash.
''You shall have it all. The time has
come for plain talking" and there was
q savage snarl in the words. II want
my money. 1t seemed there was some
Hope of getting it from this Baudoin
marriage, as don't believe you'd write
another word"
"Don't your"
mo. 1t may be you've tried and
can't-it may be you don't care. In
either case I've been bitterly disappoint.
ed in you. You're the last embryo genius
I'll put on pedestal. Genius? BY heav-
en-! that's rich. Why. you've fallen in
to psychical ruin. You exhausted your
self in The Worlds Way"
An unwilling, dusky red started up
in Toms followed cheek. 1t ebbed slow
ly away as, opening his eyes wide, he
smiled at Delatole with an expression of
positive hatred.
"That is one of those charmingly
soothing speeches we must learn to ex-
pect from those we live with. But you
are wrong. The trouble lies here.
unfortunately must still be sincere and
must put something of myself into ev-
erything l write. When one believes in
and cares for SO little, it is very hard. |
have not yet matched your stride, you
see-you who with one arm around your
neighbor's wife could write an essay on
the beauty of morality"
The door banged, and Deiatole's foot
steps grew fainter in the echoing pas
sage. In the silence that followed Tom
still lay motionless, bis wide open eyes
fixed upon the ceiling, the small unob-
trusive sounds of quiet room fiutter
ing the loneliness that settled around
him.
How Ihate himl" and though the
words were but whisper their reality
was intense.
He thought of the past.
That year in Paris-every detail of it
returned to him as he lay there-that
crowded, riotous, unholy year. His first
taste of pleasure, his exuberant appre-
citation of life carrying him along with
the rush of laughing stream going
down hill; the new, fevered atmosphere;
the days spinning by in sort of moral
vertigo; the crowd that called him to
follow where it was brightest, that
brightness lining the sheer descents of
vice.
And now2 Now he was back in famil- |
lar New York, bound by honor by a wo-
man who wearied him, inclined to rid |
himself of the obligations he had as
sumed in the beginning through sheer
to the trouble of resisting. |
following pleasure with foreknowledge
of WEAKNESS, in debt to Delatole while |
straining at the wornout cord that bound
them, struggling against the maddening
inactivity that palsied his faculties in
the art still Gear to him.
A sharp, quivering breath came from
his lips.
Delatole had spoken truly. Some
thing had withered within him, or in
The degradation of his life he had lost it
forever. He lad striven to write and
'lw"rs in vain. His ideas were no long
II vivid, stirring, flowing to logica,
sequence, but dim, abortive-a haze OF
angled threads. Heaps of closely writ,
en- paper, upon which the best efforts of
lis brain had been expended with the
everish intensity man feels in running
race, had been cast aside as worthless.
he day was surely coming when his
world would know the truth and liken
i'm to plant that puts forth radiant
blossoms once. and withers in night.
How miserably he had failedl Was
here no escape from social annihila-
ion except by trading on the infatua- :
ion of woman 10 years older than /
imelf? And once-once-when he had |
hought like one inspired, and honor was
shining reality in his life, he had be- .
rayed love for chimera. But he must
OF remember that, and least of all to- [
ight, in the silence, when his thoughts Z
ERE like knives in his heart.
He stood up, shivering, and from habit
lrned to the sideboard. He half filed '
goblet with brandy and laughed aloud
the decanter clinked against the glass Z
his hand, a laugh that subsided to q b
iuckle and rose again. beating upon the
illness like the wings of u Gagged bird. d
sit wouldn't be e,,1f of ordar t<> d~;..1. | a