Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1893-10-22

held out his arms, looking around the
place, an almost childish pleading in
his eyes. 81 came In knowing / had
failed. 1 accepted defeat with what
agony perhaps you can guess. It was
then read your play for the first time.
More than year had passed since you
left ii, and 1 thought you dead. It
would mean nothing to you, everything
to me. 1 took it. l 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 3 morbid love for the play
he had written.
"Poor, wronged dead man. They
cannot all come back as l have done.
But unfortunately for you," he said
with a slight curl Of his lip, 81 was not
dead. came here three times in the
summer following. The place seemed
shut up. The rest of the time have
spent in hospital. Facing death and
eternity, forgot life, I forgot you
God has cured me for many years, and
l never bent to the rod. And now,
when 1 had thought the long, bitter
day was to end In storm and darkness,
there is q promise of q new dawn"
"You mean?"-and the words were
terrified breath on Toms lips.
What can I mean but that you are
to give me my play?" he cried.
II can't. Don't you see that It is I'm
posslble-now?" The prayer had gone
from Toms voice. 1t was logged, des-
perate. "Pll give you every penny l
get for 1t, but my name must stand as
its author. To acknowledge your right
would be confessing my theft. That
refuse to do, It would mean social dis
grace. Do you understand"
Dawson's face was terrible in its
scorn.
"Money won't content me.
"See here. could have deemed
your right to this play-lisd to your
teeth. But 1 didn't. Face to face in
this silent room have been honest
with you. would undo 1t all If l
could, God knows how readily" He
paused, and his voice, though quiet,
was like the strokes OF steel upon steel.
But before the world 1t will be differ
ent. II you have no mercy upon 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. 1 tell
you 1t will be an unequal struggle, and
[ will win. Cranks and blackmailers
abound In New Yark. You will be
classed among them and be forgotten.
You'd better accept my terms. Think
again. Take the money. I'll be glad
to give 1t to you. But the play must re-
main mine. it is too late for anything
else. Don't you see? Can't you see?"
Dawson seemed scarcely to listen to
him. 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
fifteen years to touch success. I've
always just missed it. l made my last
throw when wrote DIR. Fleming and
it won. Money? Do you think money
will make up for the loss OF the thing
most precious TO me? Deny me as you
will; I'll take my chances. You've
robbed me OF what love. That play
was friend and sweetheart, fire and
food, to me for q year. 1t is part Of
me. All l have hoped and suffered ap-
years in its line like reflection In q
glass. Oh, yes, I'll have it back"
He walked to the door, the blush
dusk shading his white, earnest, clear
cut face, and clothing him with mys-
terry.
Long after he was gone Tom stood
listening to the splashing OF the rain.
His brain was atire with questions.
Dawson would accuse him, but IL
wauld amount to nothing; he would be
thought man driven frantic by misfor-
tune. But the money-that was a diff
ferent matter and an unpleasant one.
He would never put another penny OF
the plays payments to his own use.
They must be saved for Felix Dawson
saved secretly-and some day he
might be induced to accept them. This
meant sudden poverty for himself and
might excite curiosity. He could say
he was paying his debts, or some OF the
speculations recently INDUCED In might
be fortunate. He was not afraid. He
felt secure.
Coffee and liquors were on the table
whea Delatole rushed In.
pass over the absinthe, Tom" he
said, with smile and a comfortable
kind Of shiver. cad, this room looks
coy after the rain. Hear IL, splashing
In bucketfuls. l had to 60 to Emer-
sons and have q bite with him-listened
to nothing but praises Of you from the
soup until broke away before dessert
He says you're a genius. But that's
nothing new. Haven't 1 always said
you stood alone? This last play settles
the point beyond dispute. The Russian
color is admirable! How the deuce you
caught it can't tell, when you never
had your nose in Russia. But who can
explain the vagaries OF genius? When
you wrote that play, Tom, you prepared
a delight for posterity."
All, il was to hear words like these
that Felix Dawson demanded what he
created. Money, after all, was the
smallest part Of the triumph. Tom
reused himself and found DelGtole smil-
Ing at him In his most engaging way.
His smiles we're usually very expensive
dainties and augured froWns for some
body else.
"Do you know, Tom" and his black
eyes sparkled as he looked down - the
opaIescent liquor swaying under the
movement Of his fingers, "the time has
come when you can do me favor"
"Can indeed?"
"You don't seem overjoyed," he said
in o purring tone. Look here. l
know we've have few small differ
ences, but can any two people of mark
ed individuality live together In state
OF unruffled peace? Tom, give me your
hand"
Don't be mawklsh. Come 20 the
point. You want something. What is
it?"
"Why. you're positively brutal, you