St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1895-01-30
HOW PEOPLE FORGET.

Theirs was a love match if ever a
marriage was! The engagement haa
lasted more han five years, and been
entered into when matrimony looked as
unattainable a prospect as a mouse IN
Lancaster Gate, a carriage and PAIR,
and retinue of servants.
Not that they ever did reside in
Lancaster Gate. 1t was humble little
wedding enough when the eventful day
did dawn, and they took up their abode
in tiny house in Highgate, where, as
matter of fact, they were as happy
as the day is long.
The day was long-tl2e phrase is not
q commonplace-for the young nus
band went to his clerks stool in the
city directly after breakfast, and 1t
was not till o'clock in the evening
that Ethel saw him again. Both de-
clared that the hours of their separa-
ton appeared interminable.
But they had their hopes, it should
be understood Paul was not made
TO be a clerk all his life-a young man
named Paul could not be! There was
something homogeneous about a
Paul totting up columns in ledger
and saying sir" to an employer
Paul suggests art or literature, a
calling in Bohemia, and Paul
Weguelin intended to be a playwright.
He had a couple of dramas which
Ethel vowed were beautiful, declined
by every manager in Lndon already,
and undeterred by the nonsuccess of
these he was meditating third. In
the evening, after supper, when Ethel
sat beside the fire working, he would
light his pipe and proceed to weave,
ont fD1 nil f.
ures of the night when he should be
called before the curtain by frantic
cries of Author, Author" and drive
home, with his little wife's hand in
his-a made man. Ethel would nod
her head approvingly, and if such con-
versations did not do much to advance
his ambitions, they were certainly
amusing.
Some six months before their child
was to be born, however, a scenario
was definitely laid down. They had
gone to work in quite a professional
manner, these two young people, and
chosen the theater they would favor,
and then Paul had mapped out plot
to suit the company.
THAT is what is always done, dear
est" he declared; I've gathered as
much as that from the papers. You
see, with the other plays L made the
mistake of writing to please myself in
stead of studying the requirements of
a particular management. Now We'll
go in and win"
A clerk life is not conducive to the
pursuit of literature, and Paul Veg
uelin frequently felt disinclined to so
from one desk to another, but ne per-
severed in his self-appointed task
nobly. When Ethel had gone to bed he
would sit up writing until he was COM
PEELED TO lay down the pen from sheer
exhaustion. And after d fair start was
made, too, his interest in the thing
grew. His characters appeared to gain
lifc-to be more real-and Ethel spurred
him on by her appreciation and proph
ecies of success.
She did not complain that her cven-
ings were now as lonely as her days;
they were entirely one, she and her
husband. She felt that the play was as
much hers as his, and she would read
= rd criti-'.se an | Suggest. every bit
as enthralled N rs developrl ant as lie
MS.
1t was finished at last and they post
ed 1t together with little note begging
for its consideration; and every even
ing for the next few weeks listened
with tense nerves each time the post
mans knock sounded in the street.
NO communication about it came.
however, and then Paul was given a
son, and for while even the thought
or his play was banished from his mind
by reason of Ethers Hines.
She was very i'll, however, poor girl.
but it was not often absent from her
recollection - the drama from which
they hoped so much and she talked of
II IN her delirium, and repeated lines
IRON 1t until Paul thought his heart
would break with pain and terror.
In the terrible time that followed he
had but one small consultations she
was conscious before she died. He
VIII always be able to recall every in
c1dent of their ''good-by," down to the
smallest details. He sat Oh the edge
OF the bed, holding her hands, and
praying dumb, futile prayers while he
endeaVored to reasSuTe her and choke
down his sobs. The lamp on the man
tel-pIece had gone out, and the flame of
the candies on the toilet table was the
only light in the room. Her eyes were
dreadfully big, and the whitenss of her
lace shocked him. Her voice quivered
pathetically, and vaguely he wished in
---O4A'OAAN" IiietI cIlC WOllltl IlOI speak, II
was her voice, the patfos OF the poor.
weak voice, that endangered his self
control, and twisted his throat in
knots.
Il shall never see the play, Paul" she
murmured. Il did want TO see the
play so. Don't cry. Poor boy, you
mustn't cry! Darling-darIingn
Somebody said something 10 him-the
doctor, or the nurse-he did not know.
He sat staring at the dying girl blindly
through his tears, and a few minutes
later he realized that she would never
speak to him again. The mysterious
borderland was passed
And she was buried. He sat amid
the unfamiliarity of the familiar room.
dazed and stupefied. There was the
chair where she always sat at this
hour; there her Work-baslet or her
book should have been lying; there
were the plants perishing for water
how veXed she would have been could
she have seen them! Mechanically he
took up the water carafe and moist
ened the dry soil in the pots just as