The Monmouth inquirer., 1898-06-02
FOR OLD SAKB'S SAKE.

run ULU NAkEO OAkE.
It is a commonplace of speech that
there is no changing the leopard's
spots The keen observer of his kind,
who has not twelve axioms wherewith
to work the theorems OF life, but twelve
hundred, accepts it as gospel. Ray
nAOnd, who was not a keen observer,
but man with faith in his heart, did
not accept it. In the face OF advice,
and caution. and good counsel, he de-
cided to reduce it to the absurd and
marry Cicely Glanville. Success
crowned him, as even those who warm
ed him know now, but it was a desper-
ate risk.
Far back in the days which it were
heresy to doubt were as good as they
were old, when Allan was just the stol-
i'd small son of Captain Raymond, and
Cicely was but the angel-faced little
daughter of Captain Raymond's first
lieutenant Marlitt, the boy and girl
had been fond of one another They
had made mudpies and hunted the first
wild-fowers of the plains, and had rid
den burros and broncos together. They
had wintered and summered, in each
others company, the mountains and
prairies of the Southwest, while the
land was yet given over to the never
ending disturbances of the hostileS-
They had learned what it was to have
only one another for playmates for
months at time. And because of the
hardships of long marches and the joys
of a half savage freedom shared togeth-
er, they came to think themselves in
Separable.
And then they were separated. Cicely
was to be civilized. She was sent East
and abroad to school. Allan Raymond
went through West Point and got his
commission Thereupon Fate-which
at times does what might be expected
OF her-sent him to the same post
where the Marlitts were stationed, and
he saw Cicely again He looked into
the placid depths of her long, gray eyes.
and remembered the past He locked
at the curving red lips and the thick
brown hair, and guessed the future.
She had changed for the worse and fol-
the better She had been civilized, and
was less frank; she had learned to at
tain her ends by indirect means, yet, as
women CO. she was honest. But tbs
sanity face was more beautiful, and
the child was grown to one of those
woman whom to love is to worship.
And in due time Raymond loved her.
There are men who take their love at
simply as they do the breath of their
life. 1t is necessary to them but they
do not go mad with the ecstasy OF its
possession. When Raymond had told
Cicely that he loved her, and when she
had laid her head upon his shoulder
and put her slender clinging hands in
his, and, turning up the beautiful. deen
eyes to his face, had said, II love you,
he was satisfied. His fault, If such IL
were, was that he was undemonstra-
tive, and Cicely y's-though some count
it a virtue in women-that she was
liealour. Of all vices, jealousy carries
with it it's own swiftest punishment.
1t realizes it's unreason, but IS power
less-like a dreamer who suffers and
cannot awake. though he knows, the
while, that he is dreaming She knew
In her heart that her lovers word was
worth more than most mems vows;
she knew that his purpose was direct
and honest, and yet she doubted. me
tiny stone of suspicion began to roll.
question which Cicely was too proud
to ask would have checked 1t, but IT
rushed on and became an avalanche
that buried and crushed their happf-
ness under it's mass. Raymond looked
dazed. He could not understand.
When it was too late, it was made
plain. Cicely sat before her own hre
in the dusk, and looked quietly at the
blazing logs. The light shone on her
fair face and on her cleaning hair.
RAYMOND stood and looked down at
her. resting his arm on the mantel-
no intention of speaking of even the
love of the past to another mans wife,
but beside the blank reality rose up in
front of him the might-have-been of
his life, and he cried out from the
depths.
"CiceIy, why did you do it?" he
asked.
She started hGsR and looked up at
him. For one long minute the deep
ewes gazed into his eyes, and saw there
the futility of an irretrievable mistake.
The curved lips grew white, and parted
and closed again. She turned and hid
her face in her tight-clasped hands, and
bowed her head against the back of the
chair. There is tragedy Of the fiercest
sort that enters, once, at least, into
most liyes-tragedy which seems TO
rend the veil Of ones universe in twain,
and to open UP the ssaves where ones
hopes and sorrows have lain sleeping.
Yet we jeer at melodrama when we are
shown bits from the play of existence
that are as nothing to the truth. We,
say it is overacted. 1t is because 1t has
been mercifully given to us to forget
In the past, Raymond, first OF all.
would have scoffed; in the future he
would come to doubt the horror of the
present moment. But 1t caught HIM
and held him then with mighty
strength The primitive creature
comes. out when It is dashed with the
whip Of real pain; all the bars Of Gus