The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1895-05-04
FICTION.

Mrs. Reginald de Koven, daughter of
ex-senator Farwcll. and wife of the
most popular American composer, has
decided TO seek for fame herself, in the
field OF literature. The fruit of her first
essay at authorship lies before us In the
form of dalntily printed novel. "A
S2wdust Doir' Chicago: Stone 4 Kim
ball) The thread of this romance Is
easily spun. Helen Rivington, a proud,
cold, beautiful woman. is the childless
wife OF a man thirty years her senior.
In her youth she had played with
Philip Aytoun, who had. boy fashion.
declared his love for her and been
promptly rejected. At thirty, rich,
petted. queen of society, Mrs. Riving-
ton is conscious of a vague unrest. We
receive this introduction to her, in the
initial chapter, which serves also to
afford a slight test of Mrs. de Koven's
descriptive power:
she was dressed in a loose, white
gown. with dark fur at throat and hem,
an ancient girdle combining its heavy
folds. She sat a little turned from the
table. her head resting langudly
against the high. carved back of the
chair, her small feet crossed upon Il
foot-stool. her dress falling from her
slight waist over her knee and amply
to the floor in folds which defined and
suggested the slender roundness of her
tall figure. Her eyes became absent
and absorbed they We're dark deep-set
under their straight brows, dreamy
now, with their habitual look of brood
ing abstraction, but they could be keen,
observing, sometimes even sarcastic
Her hair grew low, in a lovely untor-
mented curve, parted simply and drawn
back into a knot at the neck, in the
rapid toilet of the morning Her face
was small and pale, her features firmly
cut and delicate. The expression of her
mouth in repOse was sad, sometimes
even to sternness, but her eyes rarely
lost their mysterious look of vague alb
straction. She gave an impression of a
power not quite conscious of itself; of
an Unlicensed image in a lense. Her
voice alone, deep and slow, Of an indi-
vidual and haunting quality. seemed to
express if it failed to define her Her
enemies called her cruel. Those who
loved her found her cold"
One day she received n letter from
Aytoun, now a rising artist just back
from Paris, asking permission to call.
She received the letter with little thrill
Of interest, and promptly sent back the
desired invitation. a period Of "pla-
tonic" friendship ensues, which is one
day rudely Shattered by Helen's re-
ceipt from AytOun of n passionate
declaration Of love. For four days she
wrestles with her prompting to desert
husband and duty, finally conquers it
and sends to Aytoun a curt, almost
cruel, note Of dismissal. But when he
has gone, she finds out that her love for
him is strong, and in the unaided battle
which she wages to fight 1t down, her
health gives out and she Is ordered By
her physician to sees-a change of scene.
She goes. all unconscious. Of the sequel.
to little village near Paris, where the
chirping of the birds and the perfume
of the spring-time flowers only infame
her passion. One day she wanders
alone by the river side, with the follow
ing result:
''It seemed Incredible that she alone
must shut her heart against the singing
harmony about her. Today it was not
resignation that these flowers and birds
and trees brought to her, but a bitter
revolt against the cruelty of life.
'Ah lfe life che sighed. must / al
ways pass you by? Her feet faltered
in their steps, she stopped a moment,
realizing almost gladly how weak she
had become. a breath Of dampnegs
blew up from the river she shivcred
and drew her scarf about her shoul-
ders, and for the first time let her
thoughts wander as they would. Phys
ical exhaustion had ut last loosened her
hold upon them. Now they
few to Aytoun. AS she stood there
trembling, her eyes dark with dreams.
she clasped her hands together in a
pose of wilful quiet, while she imagined
to herself their meeting. Already in
her thoughts she had written to Ay-
toun: now she saw the vision of his
coming. Her eyes dwelt upon the
meadows beyond, bathed In the golden
light Of the declining sun. and through
a mist of tears she saw him stepping
toward her over those fields OF light
love In his eyes, the summer wind and
sunshine in his hair. Once more she
heard that unforgotten voice. Thank
Godr she thought 1t said. You have
sent for me. " Ia not too latev She
felt his touch, his kiss upon her mouth
such happinessl--was It of earth?
She felt herself sinking, sinking. her
will following where her fancy led. |
AS she stood there. keenly con
scious Of this fatal drama In her mind
silent, motjonless the moments pass
Ing, each one irreparable and moment
Gus. she heard the slightest sound, the
of the leaves, the rivers quiet |
murmur. flowed through her brain"
Suddenly boat rounds bend in the
stream. IT 10 filed with girls and men. |
They are singing.
"A young man with n straight
brlmmed hat pushed back over his |
brown curls stood behind them, sing
ing as he bent to his oars"
1.-THE boat was filed with the bios
somed branches OF the trees Another
man in the bow of the boat held his |
arm around the girl who was singing. |
His back was turned to Helen, but she |
could see the girl, who was young, |
with strange dark face. Her hair
was down over her brow In n deep rip
pied mass. Her head was bare. her
white curved throat throbbed with
her song. tttr
"They were quite unconscious OF her
presence there, so near them Sudden
ly the man in the bow turned his head |
and looked full into Helen's eyes. 1t |
was Phillip. SO he came to her"
"a Sawdust Dolr' has many of the |
faults OF the novice at story-writlng
There is scarcity of dialogue and a |
deficiency Of movement. But the au-
thor's superb, even II unframed, power |
1f description induces the belief that |
with practice she may yet become a |
rival to the group of brilliant women |