The Hope pioneer., 1894-02-23
CHAPTER III

AEc5OAuGo AOE b AuOlu0ut dlG6T tue Sdte
changed behind him, then crossed the
street and entered the college grounds.
An unquiet spirit possessed him as he
strobe along the familiar paths. He was
only trespasser in this place where
hitherto he had roamed at will, but
whether he was seen or not was of little
consequence. He had escaped from his
quiet room into the wet, massy darkness
to question himself. The vapor that
garbed every tree in ghostly robes, the
light sweep of the wind passing his ear
like woman's sigh, the peace here and
the reminders of life on the river and
market places beyond were all old and
dear to him. They had helped him be-
fore.
It was not of his rejected play he was
thinking. Somehow the keenness of the
sting left by failure had subsided. In
fancy he saw awoman's -Virginia's
face. It seemed to float before him,
sometimes the eyes hidden as with
veil, sometimes the sweet, proud mouth.
He was filled with this new feeling
that in the twinkling of an eye had
rushed over him. Was it love? Lovel
Oh, the ecstasy ringing in the soft VOW
els as he murmured them in tender
semitonel
Hitherto he had written of love, had
believed that he understood it. But to-
night in every fiber he felt the illimita-
BILE, untranslatable difference. He had
been like blind man dwelling on the
beauty of the light he had never seen-a
stay at home describing the marvels of
lands never journeyed through. His
heart had been sleeping while in his
writings he had prated of passion.
But this sweeping forgetfulness of self
even in q bitterly critical moment; this
reaching out to and flooding immersion
in the personality Of another; this mad
ness that shook him, trailing its seduc-
tive sweetness over his soul and making
him light headed; this insistent burning
inhis blood; this yearning newly born
this was love.
He flung himself into restful positica
against q tree and looked over at the win
dows where at times Virginia's shadow
touched the shade. His face had grown
haggard; his eyes were aight. Oh, he
loved herl Itseemed now he had always
loved her.
To tell her-oh, to tell her!" was his
unuttered cry. "Oh, if had something
to offer worth her taking-not my beg
gars portion, not the ashes ofmy Dreams
Virginia-dear, tender, sweet voiced,
strong hearted Virginia, am not fit to
love you"
And now state of feeling beyond ex-
preston or definition assailed him and
held him as in coil. It was strange,
subtle, exquisitely sad. The mist and
rain were part of it, the blustery dark
ness, the troubled breath in the trees, the
longing ana indecision in his soul, the
ache of passion, the ambition so limitless
and unavailing, the dull acquiescence of
the conquered.
How merciless destiny seemed in tnat
momentl How empty the world! The
race so long, so firing, ending-even at
the best-in what!
He was stirred to an ecstatic sadness
Something vital auickened in his con-
sciousness, /,
The serenity Of his fair, untempted
years sank from sight. and he seemed to
look down an illuminated depth into the
very heart of life. Love and death were
there; agony and sin; joy, derision, temp
tetion, despair; the curse of the suicide,
the laughter of young girls, the sorrow
that cries in the night twas all so ter
ribly clear. It racked him, inundated
him, knitted itself to him.
One after another faces arose, young
and old; hands seemed outstretched. He
beard words that contained the glory and
fire Of diamonds, so real they were, so
trenchant. Oh, if he could but write
them as they thronged into his mind-if
he could tell the wonderful story that
unfolded itself before him like scroll
upon the darkness might not some stand
and listen?
He shivered and looked around, emerg-
ing from his waking dream as from a
trance, and almost startled to find him
self alone.
What was this marvellous changer He
seemed on the threshold of secret, the
door open to his hand. He was as one
born again under new conditions, with
keener faculties for reasoning and feel
ing. A fire had touched him-a fire Of
love. It lightened the dark places of his
nature, melted the crust that held the
currents of knowledge imprisoned, and
he felt stimulated to walk victorious
where before he had stumbled.
Hs tbopght Of the play that but short
while since had been 80 dear thing to
him. Crude, false and sterile it seemed
now.
And yetto venture again-dare he do it?
Even while he questioned he knew he
Nnst, His fingers tingled tograsp pen.
The delight Of the artist, the creator,
quivered through him, It was tempered
by sickening edge OF dread. put still it
was delight.
In little while he was again in his
own room tearing the leaves of tho re-
jected play to pieces. He flung them into
f.sRTateand touched them with match.
s vtreSnis was right" he said, his voice
IsMorin, asi if he had rpm q long way, and
aa1R I,oS -.