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

ChAk~IEH
These were days OF drcary gloom
which they spent together; Frank. too
detected to go out Of doors; Bertie'
creeping about very softly under the
pressure of u vague dread and indefina-
Sic dissatisfaction. He felt FRANKS
friendship reviving and, fiattered by
this revival. was conscious of a senti-
ment Of pity, almost sympathy, he
tried to rouse Frank from his moodi-
ness, and talked OF a supper party
with ladies-on the old pattern. He
made plans for going awry, here and
there, for a few days. He tiled to per-
siiada Westiiove to take TO work, men
tioning the names of various great en-
gineers who were TO be found In Ion
don. But everything fell dead against
Franks obdIrate melancholy. every
thing was swallowed up In the dark
cloud OF his detection, which seemed
incapable OF more than idea-one
s~eIf-reproach, M grief. And the only
solace Of his life was always TO have
BERTHE at his side; n closer intimacy to
which Van Maeren himself was no less
prompted now that he had gained his
selfish ends, having no further fear OF
impending poeerty, and seeing alw avs
by him q consuming sorrow. Had he
not rejected the notion that he had
been the cause OF 1t all? And had he
not, during his late existence as m idle
bachelor, become q superfine q being
that he felt a craving for the vague de-
tights OF sympathy; nothing more than
sympathy; since no great and noble
love, no strong and generous friendship
could breathe In the complicated re-
ceSsas Of his soul, for lack OF room and
fresh air In those marrow cells built up
on strange fallacIes, and since love and
friendship must pine and die there, like
q lion In boud0ir.
Thus 1t Yves that he could still feel
Tor Frank, could lay his hands on his
shoulders and try to comfort him, could
find words Of afrection-new on his lips
and unwonted phrases OF consolation
and cheering. Women, he would say,
were so narrow-minded; they were
nothing, they loved nothing, they were
a mere delusion; no man should ever
make himself miserable for a woman.
There was nothing but friendship,
which women could not even under
stand. and never felt for each other; a
passion of sympathy, the noble joy of
iieved what he said, summing himself in
Platonism with catlike complacency.
Just as he basked In material ease nd
comfort, rejoicing In his raptures of
friendship and adhiring himself for
his lofty ideals.
But Franks love for Eva had been,
and was still. so absorbing. that he ere
long saw through this effete and de-
crepit devotion, and thenceforward 1t
afforded him no solace. His depression
wrapped him In darker folds. He
forced himself to recall exactly every
thing that had happened: what Eva
had said. what he nd replied. And he
laid all the blame on himself, exonerat-
ing Eva for her doubts: he cursed his
own temper; his barbarous violence to
a woman-and to her! What was to be
done? Parted-parted forever. 1t was
fearful thought that he might neve see
her again, that she could be nothing
henceforth I'm his life. Gould 1t be no
otherwise? Was all lost? I~rreyocably ?
No, no, no: the desperate denial rose
mp within him :he would triumph over
circumstances: he would win back his
happiness.
And she? How was she? Was she,
TOO. suffering? Did she still doubt him,
or had his yehemence, Notwithstanding
its brutality, made his innocence clear?
But IL 1t were SO. IL she no longer doubt
ed him-and how could she?-goOd
heavens, how wretched she must be!
Grieying owe her want Of trust, with
s-elf-accusation cen more terrible than
his oWn-for his wrath had at any rate
been justiiable, and her suspicious
were moi.
Was ii So? Or was she. on the con-
trary, stricken almost to death. per-
haps, by his cruelty, or filed with con-
tempt for his lack Of power to control
his anger, which was like some ringing
Wild beatsr How was she? What was
her moodf A passionate desire to know
pierced his heart now and again, like a
sword thr1st; to go to her: to pray for
pardon for restoration TO the happi-
ness he had thrown away. as he had
flung her from him on that sofa. She
would never admit him To her presence
after 80 great an insult. But he might
write.1Of course. a letter! His heart
ieaped with JOY. What bliss to grovel
on paper In the dust at her feet TO
humble himself I'm p%enittntiai prayers
for mercy and adoring words. while
asserting his dignity In the pride of his
truth. and his anguish under her
doubtsi She should hearken. as a Ma
donna to a sinner: he would recover his
lost happiness! And he 'ried to COM
pose his letter. thrilling with the effort
to find words. which still did not SEEN
Servent or humble enough.
He spent a whole day over his task.
polishing his phrases as a poet does a
sonnet. And when. at last. IL was fin
Isaed, he felt refreshed In spirit. with
sion. He was convinc IL that his letter
would remove every misunderstanding
between him and Eva.
In the higae1t spirits he betook him
self to Van Maeren, told his friend OF
the step he had taken and all he hoped
FOR. He spoke eagerly; his very voice
was changed.
BERTHE leaned back In his chair. rath-
er grave and pale; but he controlled
himself so far as to smile In answer to
WeSthove's sm;le, and he agreed in his
nnticIpations in words In which he
vainly strove to give a ring OF convic-
ton.
'To be sure. OF course. everything
mist come right again" ne muttered
and the perspiration stood ON his fore
head, under his chestnut curls.
XIV.