Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1895-11-18

upon her lap. and looking with evident adj
miraton at the grotesque figure before her,
''are you an actor. really and truly?
Mr. Philbrick smiled automatically.
I'm private, perhaps" he responded, but
not on the stage"
1.-The trueSt thing he's said yet, thought
the doctor.
II wish you were an actor" said Louise,
taking up her work again; I've been to the
tEeater ever SO many times, but 1 never
saw an actor In real life-that is, to speak
to. 1 saw Booth on the street once when
was a. little girl"
must tell the truth. I never was on the
stage"
she smiled again when he sat down.
DO excuse me-" she said, but it's just
killing to see you"
You don't find me so dreadfully funny,
do you, Miss Willis?" asked Mr.. Philbrick,
turning to Amelia in mock distress.
NO" she answered, forcing a smile. Il
can't help thinking of the danger you were
in"
"Oh, but that's all past now. Hello!
there's the missing thimbie,' and he stoop-
ed down by the table beside the leg to
which the electric switch was attached.
Dr. Williams rose nervously, but sat down
again WI en- Mr.. Philbrick stood up with the
thimble in his hand. He passed it to Louise
with significant side glance at the doctor.
What does that Inean?' thought the
| latter. Has he too, seen the lever, and
understood hat it means? OF course, ne
would understand"
| a new thought, mere distressing than the
first flashed upon him as he observed the
coquettsh smile with which Louise re-
| ceived the thimble. She promptly laid
| dc wn Amelias thmble ard put on her own,
| and there could be no doubt that her
| cheeks took on roster hue as her eyes
| caught Mr.. Philbrick's radmiring glance.
Could it be that LouiseT was attracted by
| this suave, witty strangera1 Could 1t be
| that he was taking advantage of the situa-
| tioa to make an impression?s
What more natural? He had had oppor-
| tunty enough to see Louise hs she walked
| with Amelia to and from the village: with
| the doctor to see had been to worship; why
not the same with Mr.. Phil5rick? Was 1t
| not probable that his fishing excursion had
| been undertaken with IA Eew to some
chance that should enable him to make
| her acquaintance?
The doctor was distinctly jealous. He
was not aware of it; he knew simply that
| he was miserably unhappy, that every
| own heart, that every comical remark of
| Philbrick's that brought laughter ripping
| to her lips was the most offensive utterance
| he had heard. When man is acknowl-
| edged If not an accepted lover, Jealousy Is
bad enough-for him, l mean; but when it
| makes its hateful presence known in his
heart before his love has been confessed,
well, I can think of no mental torment that
is worse unless it be the guilty conscious
ness of a foul crime. The great trouble,
then, is that the sufferer has no one upon
whom he can unload his misery If his
love has been declared he can address
himself to the loved one in fine terms of
bitterness and reproach, or, at least, he can
scowl at her and mayhap She will know
what he means and be thrown into equal
unhappiness. But love unconfessed that
yields to jealousy must either shoulder in
the heart until it turns TO Goals of living
hate or ashes of Indifference, or it will
find its vent in deeds OF spite, since relief
cannot come through words.
Sometimes incip:ent jealousy may be
crushed by a manly effort. and no ex-