Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1897-05-27

ting o But he never found It, and
the intolerabie emptiness Of The place
where he looked for 1t. made hirn
swear and stamp with rage.
Twice had he written-two letters
aud yet she gave no sign! And he could
think OF no cause, I'm his ardent expect
ancy. which made him regard 1t as the
most natural thing that she should re-
ply at once. Still he lived on this wait
Ing. The reply must come: 1t could not
be otherwise. His brain held no other
thought than: 1t IL coming lit VIII
ON today. All life was void and fiat,
but it could DO filled by Just one letter.
Day followed Gay, and there was no
change.
II have had no answer yet from
Eva" he said. In a subdued tone, TO
BERTHE, as feeling himself Inundated,
disgraced by her determined silence.
Knocked at In his illusory hopes.
"Not YETI" said BERTHE; and q mist Of
melancholy glistened In his black, vel
yety eyes. A weight, indeed, lay on
his mind; he sighed deeply and fire.
lueotly. He really vas unhappy.
What he had done was utterly base.
But it W Is all Franks fault Why, now
that he was parted from Eva, could he
not forget Ills passion: why could ne
not find sufficient comfort in the sweets
Of friend ship? How delightful 1t might
have been to live on together, q happy
pair Of friends. under the calm, blue
Sky Of brotherhood, in the golden bliss
OF perfect sympathy, with no Woman to
disturb IL. Thus he romanced. con-
sciousiy working up his friendly, com
.,.,atn fnats,,xr toward ErAnk 10 n
sort of frenzy in the hope or comfort
ing himself a little, of forgetting his
foul deed. of convincing himself that he
was magnanimous; nay, That IN spite
Of that little deception, he now, more
than ever, since he was sunk In the
mire, really longed for a high ideai.-it
was all Franks fault. And yet. was
Frank to blame because he could not
forget Eva? No, II q. That was all fa-
tality. No n was to blame Tor mat.
That was the act Of Fate.
"Yes. that Is certain" Thought ne
"But why have we brains to think
with. and why do We feel pain, IL we
can do nothing to help oLrselvesI why
should this vast. useless universe exist
at all? And why, why did n~othingneSs
cease to be? How peaceful. now de-
lightfully peaceful that YOU be!
He stood, IS it were before the
scaled portals Of the great Enigma,
suddenly amazed and Mortified ut him
self. Good God! How had he conle to
this? How was 1t that nowadays he
was always thinking OF such things!
Had he ever had such notions In Amer
lea. when he was toiling and tranping
I'M his daily slavery? Had he not then
regarded himself as a gross material
list. caring for nothing but plenty OF
good food and unbroken peace! And
now, when he had long experience OF
such material comforts, now he fefs as
though his nerves had been spun inner
and finer. to mere silken threads, thrill
ing and quivering under one emotion
after another, vibrating like the invisi-
ble aerial ~pulsations which are ire
sistibiy transmitted, with a musical
murmur. along the telephone wires
overhead. How had he come by all
this philosophy, the blossom of his Idle
hours? And, In his bewilderment, he
tried to recall his youth, and remember
whether he had then had any books
which impressed him deeply; tried to
picture his parents, and whether this
might be hereditary. And he-he--had
handed round ~coffec-cups in New York;
Was he not, after all, happier In those
days and freer from care? Or was 1t
only that distance lends enchantment
to the VIEW" the distance OF so few
years?