Bennington semi-weekly banner. (Bennington, Vt.) 1894-1902, 1894-12-28
STORY OF A STORY.


he river. Duy was man who had
Towned himself because he was not clev-
enough to make a woman think that
ho loved him. Luveland knew something
4 them both 1t v IS as he let go Duy's
Em that the story came into his head. He
ut white, and his hand shook.
You don't like touching emp sug-
csted the officer who had assisted at tho
sclCsS rescue.
WHAT" asked Loveland in bewilder-
lent.
Ho was staring up the river into the
,uIfs of bright mist. He had forgotten,
tut when his companion spoke he looked
own at the thing recalled to him and re-
Rendered more quickly than no had for
Iottcn. Why, it was his touch on this
mans dead arm that had set the pulses of
million ApIils beating in his brain.
Death, life-did they, then, mean the
anne? He looked up the river again into
prings of all the years that had ever been
lived by mon-farthor, farther farther,
nto all of these other springs, blooming,
.ying beyond tho sGnile memories of
ime. 1t was as if he had once been god
nd poet among gods, rs if he had once
reated the springtimo with the uttcrance
f one endlessly Cchoug word, a word as
ntal MS flame, rs elusive rs water, as beau
iful as the unkissCd lips of girl. 1t was
if he had now come in some Protean
Disguise to tell Of the thing he had created
the deaf ana dumb and blind peoples of
he world
Guess YOU get pretty scoop on The
LsterOid," the officer congratulated him.
I -t fp,y 81 hoo ito
olor. The glow sank down to gray ashes
n his gray eyes as he took out his pad and
legan to make copy. 1t had just occurred
o him that at this particular time, on
his particular planet, his role of reporter
must be carried out. He would write the
tory when he got time. Meanwhile there
gas tho scoop.
September came, but he had never had
he time. All through the summer the
tory had beckoncd him, allurcd him,
mastered his Imagination with its beauty
md virility, with its exquisite strange
Tess, its yet more exquisite familiarity. 1t
ecmcd to him that he knew each word,
aEh paragraph, as it would look on pa
Ter. Eighteen hours after Is hours of the
ally routine his tired eyes inwardly Ca
csscd phantasmal phrases his lips muir
cured words that were the souls of words,
nut he never found time to write tho story
ut because Of tho hack work which al
owed him to live by bread, alone.
Sometimes indeed, on Monday morning
holidays, he took thought of giving it tam
Iible form, but his mood and his holiday
lever chimed. Often, however, down at
he Office, when the rush was most breath
ess and the yell for copy most maddening,
loveland suddenly felt himself in abso-
ute tune with the story. IF l could only
write it nowI' he used to say to himself
It such moments. The futility of the re-
lection cnraged him one evening as he
,ent above his proofs, trying to mako
hem out by the swelteriDg lights of nat
Iral gas.
1t was scarcely an hour after ono of
hcse periods that he stood in his room
With the mood upon him. 1t grippcd him.
t forced him. He fought it back ana
lurricd with his dressing. There were two
men to interview, he told himself. There
vas the city council to report, a benefit to
ook in at, 20 other things but the mood
id not retreat even when confronted with
hese facts. The rather it insisted. Even
IS Lovcland put his hand upon the door to
% he stopped short and stared out of the
window. Perhaps it was morning to him
nd tho veil Of the mist was divided again.
1t least he did not 90 back to the office.
instead, no fun himself across his bed
md began to WI a..
About O'Clock his roommate, Cresset,
umblcd up the stairs and IN at tho door.
What" he gaspcd. He palcd percep-
l,S half t,I
ion. Tho boss is down t.erc," he whis-
,ered, awestricken. "Tso whole gang is
ussing yo% out. What are you doing
Iere? l only looked in here as last
hanco."
Loveland lifted himself Of a sudden and
csted his eyes on Cresset, twisting his
Iencil in his cramped fingers as he did so.
Sot that he knew they were cramped.
"Will you get out?" inquired Loveland
venly and impolitely. His brow wore q
lew aspect of sovereignty under his light
lisordered hair; his lips took on new curves
# commands; large minded Indignation
,lazCd in his eyes and voice. But CrCssct
vas not impressed. He was not accus-
omed to be impressed by anything except
he boss, and besides in his minds eye
he beheld an Office full of swearing men.
Certainly, said he, Il will get out,
md so will you"
1t was daylight when Loveland stopped
writing. He gathered tho sheets of tho
manuscript up, and taking them over to
he open window read them by the light
n the eyes Of the pale dawn, who looked
narveling over his shoulder.
1t was one of the moments that maks
ternity seem worth while. The story was
Vritten. He held it in his hand the beau
iful, perfect thing that expressed, as o
lower its seed, the conception that had
mid summer long in his heart. In his
eard Why, he knew it had laid waiting
million years in the heart of the uni
erse! He looked around the dim room
nth the eyes Of a god sitting at table in
Ugh heaven, above life and fate and time
md the ignoble hungers of men.
AS he turned to greet the like look of
he kindlihg dawn Cresset dragged his
ired body into the room. He dropped
Iown on the bed, kicking off his shoes and
rying to catch Lovelands glance before
o spoke. AT last Loveland moved about,
hitting ont a fresh tablet from among tho
Il assorted contents of his desk, but lie
Dok no notice of Cresset and when he de-
iberately began copying from the crum-
led manuscript the latter could stand IL
10 longer.
II say, Lovelandp' he called out
Loveland looked up vaguely. WELL"
o said-his hand never stopped. "What