Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1894-01-06

companion picture in shadow rose the
memory of the night when he walked
alone in the rain in the sore travail of
spirit out of which this first success was
born. Was he that man? Was the illu
minated blue above him the same sky
he had looked at then?
''It's so awfully good of you to give me
this opportunity" he said, and Delatole
understood all that TIE joyous infection
in his Voice expressed.
There was not much about the ingen-
uous young fellow beside him that Della
tole did not shrewdly understand. 1t was
his custom to study the people he met
and adapt them if possible to his require
ments of the moment. He used his
friends. When they tired of serving him,
he turned his secret enmity to account
whenever opportunity offered by max
ing them thG subjects of scintillating,
scathing attacks in the press that added
to his fame. How Murray could serve
him he had not yet determined, but his
gratitude was what he wanted. Such
fresh and promising material, which
would easily receive whatever impress he
might place upon it, was not met with
every day.
"Oh, you needn't thank me, Murray"
he said, with his acid smile and shivering
even in the depths of his cumbersome coat
as an icy wind swept across the square:
I'm little bit proud of this chance to
take you up. You mustn't be too mod
est. You are a success. You've written
play that's caught the town-a play
that will live. How you did it is q mys-
terry to me. You haven't lived long
enough to know the awful truth of all
you've said. Once or twice there was a
pain in the place where my heart used
to be. Read what I've said of you in
The Challenge tomorrow. went out
during the act and dashed off a criticism
in beer saloon. In few days I'll go
into the subject at some length, and
well, you'll seel But tell me now how
your inspiration came. You're some
thing of problem toane."
Il haven't known much life," said
Tom, land suppose I'm unsophisticated
and credulous. But somehow | under
stand this game in which as yet I've
scarcely taken hand. Somehow | seem
to know how | would suffer under the
stress of the temptation l described
Some of the words burned me as | wrote
them. lived in the scene. Within my
own consciousness loved, struggled, fell
and repented with my hero"
$50 on. like to hear you. You sound
ed the depths of your emotional posi-
bilities before the water was troubled. l
understand. The plummet went to a
dark depth to have given you even
shadowy insight into such intensely hui
man mistakes and pain. Think of it, by
Jovel You who've hardly known sor-
row made the women weepl And that
small, pale ray of promise at the end was
mastery"
Tom felt q nearness to this stranger,
almost an affection, as he listened By
degrees his uneventful history was won
from him. He felt little abashed at its
nothingness, the narrative of days flow
ing quietly in an questionable neigh
borhood and his almost friendless condi-
ton.
"Of course there are Mr.. Kent and
Virginia" he said more brightly, but l
know few people in New York. l didn't
care for the fellows in college. My IA
Their died four months ago. That was
my first grief, as | don't remember my
mother at all. l would often have felt
desperately lonely if it had not been for
Virginia.
Tho girl 1 met tonight? All, yes.
Pretty eyes. Rather a dangerous sort of
friend, 1 should think, for a fellow like
You"
You don't know what she's been to
me-" said Tom. And then, morbidly
fearful of appearing sentimental, he re-
lapsed into silence.
Delatole asked no question. There was
no need of one.
"Isn't it strange" said Tom after
pause filled only with the crunch of their
footsteps on the frost hardened snow, Il
used to think myself awfully wretched
and forsaken sometimes? l had an ar
rogant idea that | was the most abused
fellow in New York. But after l had
grouped my characters and grew to
know their imagined faces, after l had
knotted the tragic thread that held them,
then | knew the difference. Poverty
and the small perplexities of my life lost
their sting when faced the picture of
stricken soul of my own creating. No,
/ can never be bitter or disconnected
again. l have learned new and sweet
philosophy-to accept the littlenesSes of
life gladly, if only peace go with them"
Delatoles eyes were fixed upon him
now. The burning end of the cigar be-
tween Toms lips threw red CLEAN upon
his darkly handsome face at every respi-
ration. The dreaminess softening it, the
lingering tenderness with which ne spoke
the last slow words, told his companion
that what he had half OWNED before was
true-if Murray had not lived, at least
love had not passed him by.
A species of envy mixed with Delatole's
alert attention. He thought Of his ex-
hausted sensibilities and of the jaded
commonplace which even the best and
brightest in life had become to him.
What would he not give to have back
the youth of heart he saw i'll Toms eyes?
Fresh for the feast with spurs val
iantly won in the gay and under the
domination of a romantic passion-per-
haps the first. And he is so untried he
doesn't know he has cause to cry aloud
and beat his hands for joy. 1t won't
} last. 1t never does. BY and by, when
life has left bitter taste in his mouth,
he will remember with wonder and long
ing that he once thought one particular
J woman worth this impulsive worship.
He's quite capable of making a fool of
J himself know the tone. l know the
look. So her names Virginia, and she's
been much to him? But needn't laugh.
Was not just such a deliriously happy
idiot oncey'
They had reached broad. windswept
street that crossed Madison avenue not
far above the square, and Delatole turned
the corner.
"You have heard of Max Glendenning,
of course. He leaves for Japan tomor-
row and gives farewell hurrah tonight
Quite informal, you know. Meats on
the sideboard, help yourself, come and
go as you please. plenty to drink, some
good stories. some pretty women. Any
friend of mine is his. We were chums,
had chambers together and lived free,
ideal existence unnl"-and a savage sneer
twisted Delatole's lip still farther TO one
side-"he went down before Madeline
Sorel, the burlesque woman. | never
saw man so madly in love. She kept