The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-11-27

ever have your mind lose in an instant
its keenness and activity and change
into a hopeless chaos, where you saw,
dimly, myriads of beautiful forms and
ideas floating round in the confused
mass of thought but which were so
ineXtricably entangled with the com
monplace that you could not grasp
them and utilize them, strive as you
might? DO you know what agony there
is where one sees the painting, hears
the music or reads the page but has
lost the power of concentration and
fails to reproduce 1t and make it some
thing tangible? If you have ever ex-
perienced it you will understand what
I have endured. I have written end
ing after ending. but none is worthy
place in my sonata. | could not re-
call what | had i'm mind before the
blank came. l have studied over the
singularity of my case. which, so far
as | know, has no parallel, and at last
| hit upon theory which you have
proven to be correct. The chord you
sounded a moment ago was the last |
wrote. What comes next?"
Madam" said Mr.. Warren. yours
y
with you, but really cannot help you.
| could not utter another note of your
sonata if my life depended upon it,"
You may think so now" she re-
piled, but when you hear the begin
ming it will all come to you. You will
agree with me when l have explained
my theory"
The second part of the program was
well under way and Mr.. Warren knew
his wife would be anxious over his
prolonged absence.
Perhaps I shall" he said, "but I
don't believe"
yes, yes" she interposed, "I know
! am OBTAINING you. You must go now
But first, you must promise me to let
me see you again There are but two
weeks remaining until the recital The
Hyperion Sonata must be completed
or my reputation among pupils and
teachers will be lost forever. When
can l see you? VIII you come to my
house tomorrow at two o'clock?"
Mr.. Warren had passed through the
portieres into the foyer He drew his
trembling hand across his clammy
forehead. She held out a card and he
took it mechanically.
'Will you be there" she asked, "at
two?"
Yes" he answered, family.
He went back to his chair in the
second row of the orchestra circle in
dumb bewilderment. Comets, oboes,
flies and drums We're united in a noisy
finale, but he scarcely heard them. He
looked at the men on the stage. They
seemed shadow and understood, as
I,,y
great distance. He sat down beside
Mrs. Warren. and oven her we'll pro-
| portiOned figure was seen but indis-
| tinctly.
What made you stay so long?" she
whispered, under cover Of the applause.
You must have had a good time out
| there"
Yes" said he. Very"
Were you alone all the time?"
mo, ] met an old friend"
"Well,' said she. II don't think it
| was very nice to leave me alone during
| the whole intermission."
Warren smiled dejectedly and won
| dered what she would say if she knew
| of the card in his inside pocket and his
! promise to meet the dark eyed woman
| at o'clock the following afternoon.
| Mr.. Warren did not care to examine
| the card until he was three blocks
| away from the house next morning.
| Then he cautiously took it out and
| looked at it half-fearfully. The name
| engraved thereon was Miss Ida
| Jones'" and the address, which had
! been written i'm one corner with a lead
| pencil was "97 Bleak street" At 2.OI
! Mr.. Warren stood i'm the vestibule of
! % Bleak street, with his finger resting
! lightly on the electric button. But he
| did not press it. Even then he changed
| his mind for the one hundredth time
| that day and turning was on the point
! of going away. But at that moment
| the door was opened and his acquant-
! ance of the previous evening appeared
| on the threshold.
| Il saw you coming up the steps, "
she said. II have been watching for
| you. Come in"
1t was too late to retreat then, and
Mr., Warren followed her into the study
on the second floor at the end of the
| hall Every nerve in her petite body
seemed all a-quver. and she fluttered
around him like a frightened, captive
| bird.
|
their conversation of the preceding
evening, Il want to explain to you my
| theory. | believe that at the time
was composing my sonata some other
mind was struggling to clarity the very
| theme that engrossed mine-some per-
| son unknown to me it might have been
but there was soul communication be-
| tween us, At the moment ! came tC
that last chord his perception was
| quiCkened and thencefOrWard the re-
mainder of The Hyperion Sonata was
his, not mine, and he alone had the
| power to produce it. Your utterance
of that single note last night told me
| that you were the thief who robbed me
of my inspiration"
Mr.. Warren was stupihcd with sur.
| prise.
"Will you finish 1t for me?" she said
! appealingly, after a slight pause. 1T
| will do YOU no good to keep it, fol
even if you We're to develop it you