The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-03-06
THE BOOKMAKER.

He threw down his pen and tilted back
his chair with long sigh of relief. The
last chapter was completed, the book-the
novel that was to make his fame-was fin
ished. It was the best thing he had done.
He felt sure of it, His reputation, which
had been slowly building itself up during
the last five years, would now be definite
ly, absolutely made.
He got up and paced rapidly up and
down the room. The blood in his veins
tingled sharply. He experienced the deli
cious sensation of firss triumph. The door
opened quietly.
''Dorothy!''
He stepped toward her and caught her
in his arms.
sit is finished, dearP'
SIT is finished
"Oh, am glad!''
SIT is the best thing, dearest, have
ever done. am sure of it. Dorothy
he drew her still nearer to him--tyou
know what this means. If this book is
the success that believe it will be, it is
not only fame but money for me. We
shall be able to get married sooner than
had thought-in the spring.
She did not speak, but he read in her
eyes that she was very happy, and he bent
his head little and kissed her.
'sGeofrey,' said the girl at last, "you
have kept SO secret about your book up
till now. You will not keep me in sus-
pense any longer? You will let me read
it?'' She caught up a page as she spoke
from the table. "fCypriar What pref
ty na1neI' Her eye began to travel down
the page.
'But you can't read it now,' protested
her lover. ''You won't have time
''Just little bit, then, Godfrey"
"Well, if you really want to-
She sat down at his table, the big sheets
OF paper in her hand.
Arkwright watched her silently as she
read. How pretty she was, he thought,
and how proud he was that she had con-
sented to be his wifel Tonight, it seemed
to him, her delicate skin looked more del
icate than ever. Excitement at his news
had brought faint color to her cheeks;
her eyes sparkled. The minutes passed.
but still he watched her in silence, won
dering what would be her verdict on his
work.
Suddenly, to his astonishment, he no.
ticed the flush on her cheeks deepen and
spread over her white face, her lips parted
little, a frightened look came into her
eyes. He was about to speak, to question,
but something warned him not to, and he
was dumb.
she turned over each fresh sheet more hur-
riedIy than before. AS her fingers grasped
the paper they seemed to tremble.
At last, after having read, as far as be
could Judge, some 80 pages, che put the
pile OF paper down.
"WelI,'' he began hesitatingly, "what
do you think of it? Bat of course you
have only read enough TO give you the very
toughest idoa.''
81 have read quite enough to under
stand ALL Her tone was hard and cold
Godfrey wondered what was the matter.
''You don't like it?'' he suggested.
Like itp 1t is horriblel Oh, Godfrey,
how could you write like that? 1t is not
like your writing at all. Oh, Godfrey
She rose from her seat and came and
twined her arms round his neck. ''Geof-
frey, why did you do 1t? It is bad book
"a book that will make people bad and
drag them down, down. Oh, Godfrey,
you must never let it be published You
must destroy it,
Destroy it-destroy the best thing 1
have ever written? Dolly, you must be
mad to suggest such a thing. 1t would
be like plucking out my own heart. Be-
sides you don't understand. The only
bad book is the book that is badly written.
Art does not concern itself with the dis
tinctions of morality. They are beside the
point-absurd. Believe me little one, you
you do not, you cannot understand.
t'No,'' she said tearfully, "you are right.
do not understand you. I am only an
ignorant girl, you see, and you are far
cIeverer than I. To me a book is bad II
it has bad influence, and your book-it
is horrible. Godfrey, you say you love
me. If you love me, you will destroy this
vile thing
"TeaT it up" he murmured hoarseiy;
"tear up that I cannot. cannot You
don't know what you are asking. Destroy
that which has become part Of myself;
that which will, must, bring me fame,
honorl 1t is impossible"
Honor, Godfrey? There is no honor to
be got by writing a book like that. You
cannot surely think it. Oh, Godfrey,
Godfrey, surely you will do What askF'
81 cannot, Nina. would do aRgthing
in the world for you, belieEs'>me, any
thing-but that"
Silently she untwined her arms from
his neck and turned from him.
"Goodby, then, Godfrey
She stumbled toward the door. But even
as her fingers touched it he had grasped
them tight in his own.
what do you meant" he cried. "You
cannot
81 mean, Geofrey'-tears cholzed the
words, and her voice sounded strangely
distant-"I mean you must choose be-
tween your book and me.''
He was silent, but his hand grasped hers
a little tighter. His white face, his witch
ing lips, the strange, almost fierce look in
his eyes, were cruel evidence of the desper-
duo bO was ASAeAAG dSrsAAce AAA4AAoo4As
A coal fell from the fire to lie blazing in
the gra ,.
The sudden noise seemed to arouse him
to consciousness Staggering blindly to
the table, he gathered the pile of manu-
script together, and, throwing it into the
flames, which burst into renewed life
around it, he stamped roughly ON it till
only fantastic black mass remained, the
funeral shroud of "Cypria." Then, as if
by the effort, he sank back into
a chair, covering his eyes with his hands
Dorothy, with look of infinite pity on
her tear stained face, bent lovingly over
him and kissed him.-Exchange.