The Irish standard., 1898-05-28

ou to say anything now, but later, when
l know your people, whom you are
mysterious no longer"
"Oh, as to that, she said, dcspondcnt-
~, there isn't much to know about my
people. We live in Bedford square, In
o very large and ugly house. Father
made quite lot Of money In pickles. I
suppose you have seen posters of =
very large and healthy looking man eat
ing cold beef, accompanied by Rivers
Celebrated Pickles. particularly dis
like that poster"
II have often admired It," said he,
vnlantly
How dear Of you to shy so," she
cried, and as there was no one In sight
no kissed her.
"oh. yes. l forgive you," she said, a
few minutes later, "und litter on you
viii! be able to tell me what Is suitable
for Moderna'-the style Of thing you
want. You will never (smlling) be ablo
to decline with thanks now? VIII
you?" she added. after pause.
l think that was one of the most ter
rible moments in the editors life. The
standard Of "Moderna" was u high one,
and the critic in him told him that his
loves literary productions would never
rise above mediocri,y. But his heart
cried out that she was in his arms, that
She was his, and nothing else mattered,
not even the profession that had been
more TO him for 20 years than any won-
an had ever been.
But You will not have time to write
when We are married." he urged.
"Thcre will be all the new books to
read, and things to talk about, and the
theaters, and pnrIes-wc are going to
give such jolly parties, you know, quito
ment. because in addition to that you
will have me to look after, madam"
She drew away and regarded him at
tentively.
"You continue" she said, very gently.
"to decline?"
"Deurest-"
Answer me-" she persisted
And the editorial instinct, which was
older in him than the emotion which
she had inspired. won the dry.
IL must" he stnmmered.
"Then l ALSO" she said, still in her
unnnturally gentle tone, "must de-
cline"
To his passionate protestations she
turned deaf ear. She was firm in her
determination that if she married an
editor she would enjoy the full benefit
of the position. And the editor of
'Modcrna" had always been distin-
guished by y quality which his enemies
called ohstinucy. SO they parted. AT
the last he held her hands and said, eur
ncstly: Some dny-prrhnpS you will
send IL linc--n word, cvcl,--to 'Modernu.'
II ever you cnn-you know what it will
mean to me. Good-by."
"Good-by," she whispered, and down
on the pier the lust notes of the wash
ington Post" We're prolonged in u harsh
vail.
One evening late in the following Feb
runry the editor of "Modcrnu" turned
into the Strand from the side street
wherein his office lay and hailed IL ham
som. lie looked very cheerful, his mus
tnchc was twisted up at the corners and
he bore Il bunch of vuletsin his button-
hole. Half an hour ago he received q
note which ran: Come ard see me; I
have something TO tell you. Grace"
In the big, shudowy drnwing-room in
Bedford square very pretty woman
was waiting. She had lighted the yell
low-shaded candles, and the light fell
on tho punches of ionquils that wero
everywhere and on her primrose hucd
gown. When the door opened and he
was announced she did not move to
greet him, but stood still and looked at
him. lie came close and took her hand
and held it.
"What do you want to tell mc?" he
asked.
She held up her right hand. "Lookl"
she whispered, there is no ink on it
now" She ibid her fingers against his
lips. "You will have to love me very
much-to make up"
''DarlIngl" said the editor, who
seemed to consider that quite sensible
remark.
Below in the misty square IL hurdy-
gurdy man began to grind out the
Washington Post. "-Kathleen Murray,
in Belgravia.