Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1896-03-11

iIEO SIAI69 BOON CO0pANN
want her back, Mrs. Walton; want
her very much. If she comes, will do
all in my power to make her happy,
There was none of the yeaIning or
tenderness Of man suing for the re-
turn of woman he loved in these
words, but they were earnestly spoken,
and his sincerity was unquestionable.
A monk whose sensitive soul smarted
from tie memory of some sin might
have asked for his hair shirt in much
the same spirit as Hugh put forth his
plea for his wife.
Mrs. Walton rose and stared at him
like basilisk.
''I'd rather see her dead than that.
Your words don't influence me. And
Jenny has done with You. Oh, no! I
didn't send her away. She was glad to
CO. Things have changed with us. My
brother died last week, and Jenny has
Larremore; but, all the same, I'll see
she gets her rights.
A meaning smile played over her
puffy face.
II wonder if you heard of it. won
der If the money made you come seek
ing your lawful wife," she cried.
Anger swelled Hugh's heart. and he
bit his lips to remain silent.
''Do you know what your daughter
intends to do:" he asked impatiently.
''Not to get a divorce. if you mean
that. We don't believe in it. But if she
gets q separation you can't bother her.
She only wants to be rid Of You. She
doesn't want to marry again. My daugh-
ter is like me-no two husbands for her.
It's against the Scriptures. As for you"
she paused and measured him for
her most spiteful shaft guess from
all hear of this Miss Trent she won't
mind if you don't get a divorce"
A sneer passed over Hugh s face more
eloquent than words. Mark had softened
his heart to womanishness This wom-
an warped it to steel After all, why
should he try to win his wife back?
Had he not known for years they had
nothing in common? Had they not real
~ been separated since he had first felt
mans better knowledge and awak-
ened hopes striving within him? Since
she would not come, let her 60. The
effort to reclaim her was sop to his
conscience, but she was not worth
harder struggle. He had no desire to
hear the word of ultimate ending from
her lips.
He went away and aimlessly walked
the streets for hours. The summer night
was filed with sound. The city was
awake and happy. A Discrimination to
return at once to Mark overcame him.
Dear, kind, patient Mark, who had
slain all earthly desire, what did he
know. after all, of the fierce battle rag
ing in his heart, of the rebellion against
the accented misery of his life, of the
clamorous yearning Of stubborn youth
that swept through him, demanding
freedom, light and love?
In the endeavor to escape from his
thoughts he entered a restaurant on
Union square, and, scarcely touching the
food placed before him, sat like one
watching a play.
At the various tables men and wom-
en- We're seated, scattered in twos and
threes. He only was alone, feeling that
penetrating loneliness that comes of be-
ing one in a crowd.
Two youths near him discussed fam
lily letters received that day from France.
Over his shoulder he heard the popping
OF a cork, question, pert reply in a
woman's voice, then low, continuous
laughter.
The fragrance of violets mixing with
the pungent smell of cigarettes came to
him in waves of narcotic sweetness. A
woman in sparkling black rustled by
and gave him bold, admiring glance
Nature had nodded her regular features
ON heavy lines, and her cheeks were
rouged, but there was still faint re-
semblance to Marian in her dark eyes,
sufficient to send a swift pang through
him. as il she had recalled one newly
dead.
He turned sharply to the window be-
side which he sat. There was the leafy
darkness of the little park, the blink
ing lights from waiting cabs; a great
brown building across the square was
silhouetted against the sky, where the
milky way hung like veil over q chain
Of stars. One of Waldteufel's anguish
ing waltzes was dolorously pumped from
q barrel organ on the curb.
And all Of these impressions knitted
themselves around the one thought ever
present with him, the thought of Mar
ian. The Pain easing fragrance, the
dreamy waltz, the woman's face, the
watching stars, whispered the one intense
truth in different ways
1t was late when he left the restau.
rant. He walked down Broadway until
he happened upon a dimly lit cross
street. 1t invited him, and he turned
into it, aimlessly walking westward for
q long way.
His miserable eyes sought the sky,
but it gave back no answer; neither was
there whisper of consolation in the
breeze that had arisen with the night.
His heart fed upon itself, heavy with an
unanswerable question.
When he looked up, q thrill shot
through him, and he drew . long breath.
The river lay before him, acres Of zip
ping silver. fretted along its near edge