The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1895-03-22
HELEN FOLLY.
By Kate RICHMOND.

bankrupt OF everything. She lived, ana
with the stubborn tenacity of her ma
ture she braced herself to endure exist
ence, but she neither hoped nor feared
anything She ate and drank and slept
The mechanical routine of the days re
peated itself, but she had come to dead
stop. She had lost all courage, all faith.
A bare, blank wall faced her. There
was nothing more to be enjoyed nor
suffered She had had everything and
lost everything.
If she had consciously recognized all
this, there might have been some hope
Of reaction. When one appreciates the
dramatic effect OF circumstances, new
! interest in new circumstances is apt to
be not far off But Helen was capable
/ of no such attitude toward herself. One
saw it in her face-dark and thin and
! changeless as statues. She had great
! dark eyes, but they never varied their
dreamy, unheeding look. Her voice was
low, soft and monotonous, and yet she
, was not at all dreadful person to live
. with. 1t was impossible that her story
should not cast it's shadows over the
household, but when it was once settled
that Helen's experience had exempted
her from all the ordinary rules that
bound the others matters adjusted them
selves, as they always do, and the hap
py current of commonplace living flow
ed around her undisturbed.
She was slender and graceful, strong,
too. as these slight built New England
! women are often enough. At II she had
not been handsome, but she had had
| that air of any possibility Of beauty
which is better than defined prettiness.
She was shy, reserved and cold, with
the positive, repelling power of strong
natures and with the Puritan traditions
Of training superadded. Under it she
was willful, headstrong and passionate,
never capable of seeing more than one
side of subject and always glorifylng
that side with the whole force of trop.
ical imagination rigidly repressed and
totally ungoverned.
1t was just then that in school va
cation she visited friend in one OF the
shadiest and oldest and steadiest of
Connecticut villages While she was in
the house there came out of the south
west young man who claimed blood
relationship with the family. 1t was
Just in the days when Bret Harte's he
roes stood foremost i'll the ranks Of pop
ularity the Unborn rebellion against
conyentionalities in Helen's blood
caught eagerly at the picturesque free
dom and wiidness of these characteriza-
tions She could not realize that one
redeeming trait may not suffice to make
a whole life tolerable. Payne Morse
was as handsome in his blond way as a
young demigod. He had the slow, soft
speech Of the plainsman; he swore no
oaths. in her presence at least; he con-
formed to the requirements OF COM
munity in which revolver and lariat
rope were alike uncalled for and OUT
landish with a good natured liberation
that had in Helen's eyes immense pi-
quancy and magnanimity. Then he rode
like q centaur, and the accomplishment
was so novel in that corner of the hills
that it seemed almost like something
unlawful and ungodly. Somebody in a
wild fit of speculation had shipped east
trainload Of mustangs in the llluslye
hope that they might be broken for use
among the quartz lodges. They kicked,
they bucked, they sat on their launches
and squealed their wrongs aloud i'll ev-
cry variation of the equine tongue. and
at last Payne Morse was appealed to, as
being only a little less savage than the
mustangs to see if he could do any
thing with them.
He found himself able and apparent
ly enjoyed the work. His fearless rid
ing, his quiet, merciless mastership OF
the untamed brutes completed the con-
quest Of Helens fancy.
That was in leaty June In Septem-
Der she went back to school A month
later she left the recitation room one
day, put on her hat, walked out of the
house and to the railroad station. In
the next city Payne Morse awaited her.
They were married within the hour, and
before sunset they told the story III the
Tryon sitting room.
Helen was not defiant. She was quiet,
rather sad, but no more repentant or
regretful than block Of marble Mr..
perhaps. He looked at the two as they
stood in the middle of the room. Moth
or and sister had withdrawn little.
Helen's will was thing that most Of
the household did Withdraw from. She
stood by her husbands side, slight,
erect, her hand on his arm. but not
leaning on him at all
"You are aware, sir" Mr.. Tryon
said, that this child is minor? By
the law l could take her from you,
"But you will not?" The question was
half assertion.
mo, shall not. She has chosen.
She must learn life in her own way.
shall try to make no difference be-
! tween her and the others, and may the
!, Lord have mercy on yo1 both," he
added half under his breath.
For month the two staid under the
home roof Helen's mother put down in
tuition and instinct with strong hand,
magnified the superficial charms of the
man and was able at last to say, "It
was irregular, improper, wrong, but we
can't help liking him"
Helen's sisters, two of them, really
did like him. The careless. easy, uncon.
scious dash of his manner, his nnfailing,
elaborate if somewhat florid courtesy,
the air Of vague romance that seemed
to make the atmosphere in which he
breathed-all appealed to their ideal of
the chivalric and poetic. He did not
talk much of himself. but his half i'm
personal stories of wild adventures and