Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-01-24
HE WAS A COWARD.
Couldn't Even Face a Little Woman
and Say What He Meant to Say,

and Say What He Meant to Say.
From the Chicago Record.
He was a brave man. That was the rock
established fact concerning him.
No person could boast of having seen
him cringe or grow a shade paler or hold
his breath while the blood beat in his
temples, and that was saying a great deal
for he was not unused to danger in its most
savage form. He commanded instant re-
spect and admiration.
And yet he was an arrant coward.
He was not aware of 1t in the least and
II he had known it he would probably have
wrathfuly, Indignantly punished himself
by going straight to her and forcing him.
self to say his mind. but the trouble was
he was so blissfully. sweetly unconscious
Of 1t. Even she did not know he was
afraid of her. II she had been like most
women she would have seen it. dimpled
and laughed over 1t, laughed at him; but
she was not like other women. That was
why she frightened him 50.
He had seen women in his day, any num-
Der of them, and they had never alarmed
him; in fac, he had never thought much
about them. They were dainty butterflies
to be kept in the sunshine and out of the
wind. and who rather depended upon and
iOohtu Up 10 lney were well
but they tired him. and he wondered how
the older men could endure the same rou-
tine all their lives. But she had a poise
Of her own and seemed self-sufficient. He
had never analysed 1t out, and in d puzzled
way concluded II must be the way she
dressed her hair or wore her gowns or the
scent of violets which wavered about her.
There was always a tormenting idea in
his mind that his presence alone did not
call up the tempting half smile on her lips,
and that her clear eyes would still have the
look Of quiet happiness In their depths IL
he was not there. She looked just that
way when she talked to the doting old
penstoner Of eighty or the ragged newsboy
on the corner. 1t showed a very nice
spirit in her, and yet he was selfish enough
| to wish that sometimes when he went away
the gentle light in her face would fade. Ii
never had yet, because he always looked
back to see.
He was quite well aware that he was in
love with her. but still he had never told her,
simply because he had never wanted TO
enough to warrant thinking about IL. Ii
contented him perfectly to sit opposite her
in the green and gold room and watch the
play Of her face and the flashing motion of
her white fingers in the embroidery she
loved to do Sne looked so thoroughly
sweet and comfortable and homelike, and
when she laughed, as she did once in
awhile, il tinged the whole room with rose
color, and he would sit smiling silently
while the coal snapped in the crate.
There came time when the thought
came to his mind that this dreamy JOY
| could not last eternally, and il quite reused
him to consider what he should do II some
other man were to forever debar him from
his seat in the green and gold room where
he watched her-debar him by means of an
| insignificant bit of gold and a half dozen
sanctified words. So he resolved to ask her
to marry him. The resolve did not throw
him into a nervous fever nor break his
| calm security. 1t was a very simple matter
when one looked at it in the right light
| a few words rightly said, look from the
| eyes and the thing was done 1t did not
occur to him that he should be afraid. That
| was because he did not know he was a
coward.
So he dropped into his old place that
night and watched her a little while. He
| half opened his lips to begin when she
| glanced at him brightly as she made some
| passing remark. He did not speak. for he
was bewidered at the tremendous chill
| which suddenly made itself manifest all
over him in a most extraordinary manner.
| He had never before known her eyes TO
| drive all thoughts from his mind and tangle
| his tongue inextricably. He could not COM
pi ehend why he continued TO make remarks
| on the weather and invent sallies about
| the last opera He was certain that he
| could say what he wanted to IL she would
| only keep her eyes on her work, but he
was not sure that she would not look at
! him again and he did not want to expert
| ence another cold chill, because II took so
| long to get over the shock of the first
| In his surprise and dismay at himself
| he kept on making bon mots concerning the
| weather. Then he heard the clock strike
/ II and meekly went home.
| He skunk by. the policeman and lodged
| pedestrians because at last he knew he was
| a coward. He did not make a light In his
| room because he knew IL he saw the cow
| ards face in the mirror he could not re-
| frain from injuring IL with his strong right
| arm, and he was naturally a peaceable man
| opposed to scrimmages. In the morning
he took a pen and paper and wrote out
| what he had tried to say to her the night
before. When the lid Of the mail box click
| ed he started. He thought some sneering
| laughing voice had said coward"
But he had the reputation OF being a
| brave man. His lifelong friends always
| spoke of him as such.