The River Falls times. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1894-1933, 1896-12-08
OF SKILL.
By BEATRICE WHITLEY.

:
loneliness and failure, had seemed re-
mote as death. He might feast his
eyes upon her for the last time; he
might listen once more TO the music of
her voice; if she would only speak,
which she didn't. At any rate, she
stood close beside him. The curves of
her graceful figure, the pose of her
head. the sweep of her uplifted arm
for she held the tapping brim OF her
hat with her hand-were all alike beau
tiful and familiar. Before them the
roar and splash of the waves doomed
and clashed in eternal diapason.
Il am glad you came here he said,
after a long silence: Il alu glad we
have seen Il storm together, after all.
Come, we must 60.
She turned docilely and followed nm.
He led the way up the difficult path to
the village; he did not offer to help her;
she followed close at his heels. Hc
seemed afraid of another silence and
talked fast, but on the surface OF
things; she answered in low monysyl-
tables. They had passed the village,
and were entering the shadows of the
glen How the time rushed byltheSe
bitter-SWeet moments which, the bend
OF the road once passed. would be at
end forever. Her heart was throbbing
fast with pain; he was SO calm, so self
contained. while she could rot com
mand her trembling voice sc as to an
SWer him Once she had had her
chance: once she might have had all
for which she now pinned, but she had
flung it away. '.He that will not when
he may. when he will he shall have
nay" How was she to know that his
II,
despair that of all his troubles, the
bitterest by far had been caused by
her? He, toe, was realizing that these
moments were almost over; he, too.
had a pain like a knife in his breast.
Suddenly, on an impulse, he broke out,
with a fragment of moan. He was
by nature. frank and unreserved, and
the darkness through which they
walked made confession easy.
Il used to think Twas such lucky
chap; everything always went straight;
l never Lad the heartache in my life till
till last July, Helen. Then my luck
changed; and now you knoW-at least,
you must have heard-how badly
things have gone with us.
He could not see the quivering face
she turned away from him, but he
heard smothered sob.
How sweet you are,' he said; you
are sorry for u.s."
Not for you" she answered, desper-
ately. but for myself"
why for yourself? very gently.
Because, because-I may only watch
a storm al sea with you, and want to
help you through other-harder-
storms" She spoke distinctly.
That is a pity"
NO" she returned with something
of her own spirit, ''it is not"
What do you mean. Helen?''
Il mean that when YOU left me, when
you deserted me- / broke my heart
DO you know what you q e saying?
Do you know that this is cruel? that
your pity makes ME mad?'
PITY? | tell you it is not pity.
Whom should pity?'
ME"
'.Why should pity you?"
"a ruined, Tilted, obscure man gets
pity, if not contempt
Don't talk like that; l will not listen
to you. | pity any one who pities you.
| never understood. | WAS puzzled.
| was angry because | did
not know what made me like you; but
l know now; | have heard now; the
whole world knows what you have
done.'
That's as | thought he told her
gravely; that is what l feared. You
have got hold of some exaggerated tale
about this businessmen as women
love--and have made a saint out of a
sinner, a hero out of an honest trades
man. And now you fancy things; in
your generosity you would say any
thing. Before, when nothing stood be-
tween us. you would not look al me-
"Wouldn't l? You only tried me
once, and then you went away, and
and
flush! hush! don't talk like this
now. 1t is too late"
The panied agitation of his manner
was her best consolation.
Il am not going to make love to you
any more" she said with an imitation
of her former vivacity, the effect of
which the break in her voice destroyed.
IF you won't have me when l throw
myself at Your head, it is very dissl-
greeable and rude of you"
s.You don't understand what you Of
fer"
Excuse me, but | understand per
fectly.'
Il nave HOlHlHS. L HdNe 10 UeSII
work as an unpaid clerk in a mer-
chants office; my mother will live with
me- 1t win be uphill work for years
and years, even if | am most fortu-
nate.
YES" she said, "and you are man
of expensive tastes; you have used
Injuries as necessities Poverty will
be terribly hard on you; you will get.
bad tempered; you will want vent
for yolhr anger-haye mei'