The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1893-03-30
/ I.

Miss Chapman copy had not been sent in
for a certain issue. What was more natural
than for me TO go for it2
Louise received me in the cosy drawing.
room which was but half-lighted, and the at
mosphere smelt of medicine. / loved her des-
pcrately, but my present call was on business
The forms are about to be closed for this
issue, but your tenth installment of two col
umns on Modern American Literature has
not materaiZed this week." ! said in an At.
tempted cursory manner.
Pardon me, Mr.. Waller. but Eleanor ID sick
in bed. She was to have been married yester-
day. but was taken i'll about two hours before
the time appointed for the ceremony"
81 am sorry TO hear that. ! trust she will
soon be herself again. So you will be unable
to furnish Us an nstallmcnt for this week" /
commented. Then, prompted by a sudden i'm.
pulse, added: 81 could not just mprehend
what you said the other day in the theater in
reply to my proposal"
Eleanor will recover 1 know" said Louise
irrelevantly. land the marriage has been ar
ranged for next Monday"
And them" Intercepted.
And after that / will tell You something"
said she. Soberly thinking for moment, she
continued: You must tell your readers that
owing to the indisposition Of the author it will
be impossible at present to furnish the series On
Modern American Literature Eleanor's mar
wise you should be invited"
Miss Chapman sighed, gave me searching
look, in which thought spied q certain glim.
mer of affection, and then bowed her head in
silence. The interview was at an end.
made my way out after few words of apology
for my intrusion.
The Epit0nist appeared that week with an
explanation for disseminating, at present, the
very interesting papers on Modern American
I.iraraturHD nwinu N thu iltpeae If hcir
author.
On the following Monday evening, as sat
toasting my slippers before an open crate in
my chamber, messenger boy brought me this
note:
Dear Mr.. Waller: Eleanor was married
this afternoon and left with her husband on
the six O'Clock train for the far west, where
their honeymoon will be spent. They will
pass the rest of the Winter in Japan and Hong
Kong. If you have nothing better to do come
and see me upon receipt of this"
Half an hour later / was seated within q
hand-touch of my love. She told me that she
and her sister were orphans Louise was then
81 and Eleanor "a years of age. The mother,
surviving the father five years, had passed away
about seven years previously, leaving the two
girls paltry annuity amounting 10 little over
$500. Thrown upon their own resources, they
had been next to helpless for time. Up to the
time of the mothers death the sisters had been
separated for number of years, Eleanor, being
In q college for mutes in the South, Joining her
sister Louise in New York. Eleanor, now fully
realizing their precarious situation, had de-
cided to try her hand at practical literary work,
for which she had q passionate taste and an ex-
traordinary capacity. Louise. with her vivac.
ity and persuasive tact, had found market for
the products of Elesnor's BRAIN and their pub.
LEGATION had created a demand for moro. The
mute sister had not signed her name to these
contributions, being sensitively averse to doing
so, and when Louise had demonstrated with
her, saying that the editors desired signature
Eleanor had said. with her nimble fingers:
Dear sister, have your own name signed BE-
cause i cannot talk or explain"
So Louise. in Difference to the publishers and
editors wishes and Eeanors most earnest en-
treaties. had begun TO sign her own name to
the articles, sketches etc, aud thus gradually
bad come to be known as great author. The
daily necessities of the two sisters had kept
Eleanor secluded at her work, as she really pre-
ferred TO be, and Louise busy in disposing of
the pen output until indeed Louise had drifted
too far into the sparkling tide of fame and pub.
lie favor to repudiate her position as an author
without compromising herself and running two
lives. And so she had continued in this a. DO.
critical way-unwillingy begun.
But am not poet a writer Of any sort,
Mr.. Waller. Eleanor God bless her has done
IL ali, ana sne sDouIu nave all the credit.
have tried TO keep up appearances, but have
been living under false pretenses, and the end
has come. ] shall be exposed as thief and i'm.
postor. have told you all. Do you not pity
me2"
| tried to soothe her, but she was overcome
with grief and remorse. Tearfully shc said II
j would only obtain for her some humble po-
sition, in which she would never be heard of
sgan, or be seen by any of her fswning friends
%. if / would but do that2
/ begged her to marry me; assured her she
was the only woman L ever could love, and
| that no one should ever know that she was not
] the real author Of The Wicked Diamond, u
"A Romance in the Planet Mars" etc., and
that Eleanor certainly was too happy, even
were she so disposed, to revert TO the past in
| that connection.
1t last Louise dried her eyes on my shoulder
and the sound Of my signs and thanks to God
were mutiied in her sepia hair.
Eleanor and her rich husband are both &c
fond of San Francisco that they reside there
throughout the changing seasons.
Poor Julian Knapp good friend and the
prince of good fellows, died two years ago
leaving me the entire plant and business of biz
thriving journal. ] remain it's editor. and
Louise is the sole contributor to my domesti.
happiness.
If each subscriber to THE NA7JONAI
| TRIBUNE piu charge himself .scith eettine
| .,e,n e,,bonriher fLe eiIc,,Io}ian