The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1894-05-18

or IN 0uneI CaSos Wheh the stlli more en-
! grossIng psstlme Of taking care OF ones i'll
health, whether real Or fancied, but yet
4sstu esass ts,.cS aS1y .sysss cs sM$ sSss ss|
xHExyIU1uNSzSSdafion.foRa .foR a1I Sssti ~.
TINS ~sas7koss Bernardine's oocupstton.
1t was difiioult TO say what she did with
herself, for she had not yet followed Rob-
ert Allitsen's advice and taken up some
definite work, and the very fact that she
had no such wish pointed probably to
state Of health which forbade H.
She, naturally 80 keen and hardworking
was content to take what the hour brought,
and the hour brought various things.
Chess with the Swedish professor, or Rus
sian dominoes with the shriveled Up little
Polish governess who always tried 30 cheat
and who clutched her tiny winnings with
precisely the same greediness shown by
the Monte Carlo female gamblers Or the
hour brought stroll with the French
danseuse and her poodle, and a converse
tion about the mere trivialities of life,
which year or two, or even few months
ago, Bernardine would have condemned as
beneath contempt, but which were now
taking their rightful place In her new
standard of importances, for some ma
lures learn, with greater difficulty and aft
er greater delay than others, that the real
importances of our existence are the moth
ingnesses of everyday life, the nothing
nesses which the philosopher In his study
reasoning about and analyzing human
character IL apt TO overlook, but which
nevertheless make him and every one else
more of human reality and less Of an alb
straction. And Bernardine, hitherto occu-
pied with so called intellectual pursuits
with problems OF the study, of no value to
the great world outside the study, or with
social problems Of the great world, great
movements and great questions, was now
just beginning TO appreciate the value OF
the little incidents Of that same great
world. Or the hour brought its own
thoughts, and Bernardine found herself
constantly thinking of the Disagreeabls
Man, always In sorrow and always with
sympathy and sometimes with tenderness.
When he told her about the one sacrifice,
she could have wished TO wrap him round
with love and tenderness. II he could only
have known 1t, he had never been so near
love as then. She had suffered so much
herself and with Increasing weaknesses
had 60 wished to put of the burden of the
flesh that her whole heart went out to him.
Would he get his freedom, she won
dered, and would he use iti Sometimes
when she was with him she would look up
to see whether she could read the answer
in his face, but she never saw any varia-
tion Of expression there, nothing to give
her even q suggestion. But this she no.
ticed--that there was a marked variation
in his manner, and that when he had been
rough in bearing or bitter In speech he
made silens'amends at the earliest oppor-
tunity by being less rough and less bitter.
She felt this was no small concession on
The part of the Disagreeable Man.
He was particularly disagreeable on the
day when the Dutchmsn was buried, and
SO the following day when Bernardine met
him in the little English library she was
not surprised 10 find him almost kindly.
He had chosen the book which she want
ed, but he gave il up TO her at once with
out any grumbling, though Bernardine ex-
pccted him to change his mind before they
left the library.
"Well," he said as they walked along
together, "and have you recovered from
the death of the Dutchmans"
Have you recovered, rather let me
ask" she said You were in q horrid
mood last night"
II was feeling wretchedly i'll, he said
quietly.
That was the first time he had ever al
fuded TO his own health
Not that there is any need to make an
excuse" he continued, 'for do not rec
ognize that there is any necessity to con-
suit ones surroundings and alter the in
clination of ones mind accordingly. Still,
as matter of fact, felt very ILL.,"
And todsyf" she asked.
To-day ] am myself again." he an
,,,tnb <Iaf< NJ
Of mine, whatever that may mean.
slept well, and dreamed of you. / can't
say that had been thinking of you, be-
cause had not But dreamed that we
were children together and playmates.
Now, that was very odd because was a
lonely child and never had any playmates.
And / was lonely, too, said Bernar-
dine.
Every one is lonely" he said, "but ev-
cry one does not L\w II"
But now and again the knowledge
comes like q revelation, she said, and
we realize that we stand practically alone,
out Of any ones reach for help or comfort.
When you come TO think of IL, too, how
little able we- are TO explain ourselvesl
When you have wanted 20 say something
which was burning within you, have you
not noticed on the face Of the listener that
unmistakable look of noncomprehension
which throws you back on yourself' That
is one Of tho moments when the soul
knows It's own loneliness"
Robert Allitsen looked up at her.
You little thing" he said, you put
things neatly sometimes. You have felt,
haven't youf'
II suppose so, she said. "But that is
true Of most people.
Il beg your pardon" he answered,
''most psople neither think nor feel UNI
less they think they have an ache, and then
they feel It'll"
II believe" sold Bernsrdine, that
there Is more thinking and feeling than one
generally supposes.
well. can't be bothered with that
now," he said. ''And you interrupted me
about my dream. That Is an annoying
habit you have"
Go on," she said. II apologize"
81 dreamed we were children together
and playmates," +" he continued. "We were