Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1895-09-12
PRICE OF A TRUTH.


sciously-to his more cynical friends as
living curiosity by reason Of the fact that
he was in love with his wife. 1t is GER
tainly not very heinous offense in the
abstract, even at this end Of the nineteenth
century, but in the particular set to which
Maxwell Bernard belonged it was not con-
sidered quite proper to show such marked
attention to the woman who belonged to
you. Such things were left for other men.
True, Mrs. Maxwell Bernard was young,
accomplished and eautiful-beautiful in
calm, statuesque way that rendered her
to the many quite inscrutable.
There was one man who claimed to
know her secret heart. That man was her
husband. Perchance there was another
who thought he had even greater right,
but that is another story
OF all the cynic friends who shrugged
their shoulders and sighed for a man they
deemed mistaken perhaps the one who
thought the most of the matter was hon
est, drawing laughing eyed, indolent Joe
Chesney-Joe Chesney, who was supposed
never to trouble about anything at all, and
whose life was apparently one long and
badly sustained effort to escape from worry
and boredom. But if some of those who
claimed to know the INDECENT one had but
scratched below the surface they might
have found warm hearted creature,
whose caustic laugh did but hide some
better things Of which he was half
ashamed. But they did not take the trou-
BILE to scratch, and they did not know or
find the better man.
Years ago, before Maxwell Bernard had
succeeded unexpectedly to fortune, and
before Joe Chesney, the indolent, had been
called to the bar, these two men had been
at school together and had gone together
at Oxford, tho one filed even at that time,
with passionate hope that he might solve
the great problem called life and make of
it better thing for himself and others;
the other lazily and carelessly adniring
him, but laughing even then, in his boy
ish cynicism, at his friend and at all his
friends airy castles,
So they kept the old boyish bond intact,
having many things in common and a
great, unexpressed devotion for each other
at all times-a devotion that was perhaps
weakened on the one side when Bernard
married, but which never swerved on the
other, for all the careless laughter Of the
cynic joe
But man is most blind to that which
most concerns himself and is generally the
last to learn Of an impending tragedy
which o'ershadows him. So it was that,
while all the world who knew them pitied
the man and blamed the wife and whis
peringly coupled the wife's name with the
name of another man, Maxwell Bernard
knew nothing Of it all and lived on in his
fool's paradise blind to all things
But Joe Chesney had heard of it, and
Joe Chesney, despite his philosophy, was
troubled, for his friends sake. Joe's phi
losophy had taught him to look on all men
and things lightly and to be pleased with
their vagaries as child is pleased with
puppet show 1t had taught him, too, a
deeper insight into human character and
human weakness.
g''It's not surprising" he murmured to
himself when he heard the scandal, tug
ging meditatively at his fair mustache,
''she's the sort of woman who would new
er probe at the depths Of poor old Max's
characteristic sort of brute that Calvert
Is touches her at once. But I'm sorry for
poor old Max. It'll kill him. He's al
ways SO desperately in earnest. l firmly
believe that if the proycrbial heavenly
visitant appeared in the Albany and told
him he wouldn't believe it, And she looks
so sanity. What's to be done? Must the
domestic virtues be sustained at tho risk
of a shock, or shall she have her lesson?
The latter would be the more convenient
and smacks of originality it would
upset poor old Max. Oh, ye friends of my
Grant youth, why will We marrys"
The result of his cogitation was that he
decided to warn his friend. He had moth
ing but feeling of contempt for the wo-
man. It is only fair to say that she did
not enter into his considerations. He
Thought only of the friend who had been
his friend through all his life, since the
days that they had wandered, with arms
around necks, in the old school playing
fields.
The two men met in a favorite restau-
rant, with balcony outside It's windows
overlooking the crowded and noisy street,
Joe Chesney was, for him, strangely nerv-
GUS and spoke but little; Bernard for his
part, was in the highest possible spirits.
Joe, old boy" he exclaimed at last
rallyingly, "you are not yourself. Come,
tell your old friend all about 1t. Is she
coy, or does the Joseph of my youth fear
to tell his lover Who Is sheY What is shef
Tell me"
Joe reused himself and smiled across
the table at his friend ''Your thoughts
run ever in the same groove, Max. Arc
there no other things save women In this
life Of oursp Docs life hold no fairer, fuller
goblet to our lips, to drain If we willf Is
ambition nothing friendship nothing-is
there nothing, in short, but kisses, and
empty smiles, and honeyed words, mon
ami9"
"Ah, Joe, said the other lightly, "you
have not been III love--you know nothing
Of 1t. When you have, you will learn 2