The times., 1893-12-01

ey. Alone, independently, you would nave
good income, be able to mix with the
world, travel little and feed your brain
until tteemed with digested impressions
gathered from boudoir and barroom.
The same money will not support a
home and wife except in q crainped.
obscure way. Your love for her will be
another drawback to earnest work. The
treadmill of your dull, loving, respecta-
BILE existence day in and day out in some
little fiat will afford no feverish impetus
to your imagination. You will never
write play worth having typewriter
on the inspiration offered by a baby's
fists. Ah, have not watched the mental
paralysis set in before? Love is bad
enough, but love and poverty
Tom turned away and faced the win
dow. He did not seek the park. For
just one moment the gray picture DelatOle
stretched rose before him, and an acute.
unmeasured despair took hold of him.
He beat it back fiercely He would
not believe. But the resistance was no
longer buoyant; it was forced.
Then there is the other side-freedom
knowing no limit" continued Delatole
in soliloquizing tone as he walked up
and down smoking, never once glancing
at the silent, erect figure in the window.
Freedom Only those who have sur
rendered it know the full sweetness OF
that word. Every door would be open
to you. You need not only be a Bohe-
mian. A fellow like you, of undoubted
talent, well looking, clever, independent
and with some money would not have
to knock at society's golden door for ad-
mission. 1t would fly open to you. For
myself hate the stiff set, but it is al
ways well for an artist to become
acquainted with every sort Of human.
Under conditions of this sort your artistic
vein would warm and expand, your ma
ture vibrate to change after change. The
man who enters race fettered is fool.
When have said this, have said all"
There was silence after these words
and then the rustling of paper. Tom
hastily turned and saw Delatole leaning
against the table, looking scornfully over
! each of the pages whereon the criticism
was written that had SO delighted him.
A painful premonition made him cold
but he said nothing.
"Ah, well, | wish | had known that
you contemplated this idiocy before
wasted time and ink on you, Murray.
! You didn't tell me, of course. No rea-
son why you should. But l assure you,
had guessed what manner of man you
were wouldn't have plunged into such
bewildering prophecy about your fu-
ture greatness. I'm not usually 80 i'm
! pulsive," and he rent the sheets half
! across before Toms voice made him
pause.
sis this fair? If you really liked The
/ Worlds Way why won't you say so?"
| The mysterious violet gray of twilight
stealing through the high windows be-
hind him touched his young face with
shadows. 1t was pinched, eager. watch
"Oh, I'll do that, of course. A few
lines, paragraph, will suffice, but not
this psalm cs victory, this heralding of
a new voice that is not to be stilled, but
will rise again and again-not that.
You'll have to prove all I've said false
before write of you in that strain"
And he was the incarnation of bland,
impersonal regret as the papers once
more fiuttered in his hands.
| He looked them over half regretfully.
"It's one of the best things I've ever
written, but in submission to my honest
opinion l must destroy it."
In few strides Tom was beside him.
They looked intently at each other
Toms eyes wavered and fell.
"Don't-don't," he said, and his voice
was half choked. "Give me time. Let
me think"
Half an hour later they were walking
up University place. They dined at a
chophouse frequented by Bohemia
where tables were bare and beer was
served in mugs.
Better than Delmonicos in certain
moods" said Delatole as they crossed
the sanded floor; "the food is excellent
and cooked to suit Lucullus. AS accom-
paniments you have art, devil-may-ca
ism, smoke and even socialism"
His friends were scattered through
the long room, and merry greetings were
called out to him, which he repaid in
L
kind. The hours passed in sparkling
"reminiscences, jests and laughter Della
tole's levity became astonishing. and in
this impudent wag, who soon formed
group around himself, there was not a
trace of the cynic, the philosopher, the
! serious man of letters. Much that he
said was coarse, but so audaciously hu-
morous it was impossible not to respond.
Tom found himself moved to enthusi-
asm and laughter. His pulses were
alive; his eyes glistened. Yes, let him
reason as he would, he was attuned to
this reckless brilliancy, this mingling of
wits, this clatter of defiant freedom and
spontaneity. Delatole was right. Chance
words here and there gave him new in
sight into n happy, modern paganism
that filled his brain with imagery. The
witchery, the sweep of it were intoxicat-
ing.
He regretted when o'clock came and
Delatole parted with him to keep an ap-
pointment at his club. No word had
been exchanged between the two men