The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1897-05-14

with Mabel ana ner
mother. Mabel's mother is widow, as
nine is. Strange to say, have never
seen her, and have never entered her
house.
The day has come and gone, and |
I'm sitting by winters fire, talking
oy fits and starts to my old mother
about one thing and another. 1t all
zones back to me as clear as the noon
lay sun. The years that have passed
since then and now melt away, as
hough they have never been.
Not an hour ago l left Mabel's house,
md am gazing now at her blue eyes
,ndsfair face, which appears before
ne in the fires glow. l have been
alking a great deal during the night
o Mabel and her mother, relating what
stories of the sea within my own ex-
oerience / deemed would be most in
eresting to them. Mabel's mother
md l have shaken hands for the first
line. She is fair like her daughter,
and her eyes are blue; but not that
beautiful blue which makes Mabels so
charming. Her beha sior to me has set
NE thinking.
When l entered her house, her cold
hand greeted me in a fairly cordial
manner; but | noticed even then that
although her lips smiled, her eyes did
not When Mabel smiles, her eyes
light up; there is no soul in smile
when the eye plays no part in it. Up
On my leaving Mabel's house her
mothers hand lay dead in my palm,
and it did not return the pressure OF
nine.
Her husband had been a small
builder, and when he died, had left
barely enough for the support of her
self and Mabel. So much l learned be-
,ore l went to her house.
Now, what has set my thoughts
wandering as look into the fire? Her
cold hand which lay dead in my palm?
No, not that alone. What else, then,
in connection with that? A simple
hing-a passing expression on her
,ace that was there but moment, and
hen was gone.
In this way: We have had tea, and
he tea-things are cleared. l am talk
ing and talking, and Mabel and her
mother are listening. |, full of my
heme, am Numbering away on some
startling experience-startlin to them,
mean-and Mabels eyes are fixed on
my face, and my eyes are fixed on hers,
when an unusual stiffness arouses me
from my dream.
For l am dreaming. The magnetic
influence of a presence that | love has
cast a spell over me, and has made
ne unconscious of everything else
about me. For the matter of that Ma
Del and l might be alone in the world.
An unusual stiffness, l say, and it is
what / mean; for, although before |
receive this new impression the sound
Of my voice is the only sound to be
heard in the room, and although no
person but myself has spoken for
many minutes, the new silence is Diff
ferent from the old. There are
thoughts that move like living things
within you, and here are some work
ing their spell upon me. And under
their influence my eyes wander from
Mabel's face to meet her mothers.
Well, l see a frown there, that is all;
but a frown that tells story | cannot
read as yet. / am striving to spell
out that story now.
1t was not a shadow from the fire
falling on her face, and distorting the
lines there, or playing on it to its dis
advantage; it was frown like black
cloud. And when / bid her good night
her hand lies cold and dead in mine.
And Mabel's good night? 1t is as
kind and warm as ever it was; and
she does not see that my mind is
troubled, being, mayhap, unconscious
of the cause.
l come home, where am surrounded
by the shells that a dead man gath
cred when life was strong within
him. 1 gaze into the fire, and l see
Mabel's face; 1 gaze upon the shells,
and see the tokens of dead mans
love. Ay, in these dull, inanimate
shapes l see the star that Eliminates
the world, and beauties 1.-THE Star
of Love.
| turn toward my mother, with a
shell at my ear. In reality she is a
small, shriveled woman, in whom one
would imagine but little sentiment
could abide. have noticed lately that as
she grows older her form shrinks, and
becomes more spare. But as l gaze at
her now she becomes transformed. The
lines and wrinkles disappear, the flesh
becomes firmer; the eye regains its
luster the cheek its color; the shrunk-
en- form fills out, and in my fancy see
her as l saw her in my childhood, be-
fore my father went to his death-a
comedy, pretty woman.
Now, what causes me to throw my
voice in the direction of the door, and
to call out suddenly and Unexpectedly;
"Yo; heave, ho!"
My mother starts up with a scream
and runs to the door with a frighten-
ed look. There she stands. trembling
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