The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1898-10-21

summer abroad, and she was very tired.
Not of the voyage; that always rested
her, and this time it had SO steadied
her nerves, so reinstated the poise of
her soul, that she was only the more
afraid. She felt, with a sudden thrill
of misery, that all the past had to be
lived over again, this time with
healthy woman's instructive distaste
for grief. When she went away, she
had been Jared and broken by her
trouble; then she sank under it, ac-
1uiescent. Now she was whole again,
as to her bodily being; but, back in
the old scenes, she realized that she
had been recalled, also, to the old pain.
She had lost her lover, and had learned
to believe that she was resigned to the
loss. But here in this room, where
every niche held memory of him, a
sickness of heart rose within her at
the certainty that the old battle was
still to be fought, and still to her abid-
ing defeat. He had been truly part
of her, and the torn nerves throbbed
with all their former fire.
How permanent things are!" she
thought, with a recoil from the laws of
being. "How terribly permanent"
So she sat there, absolutely lingering
the one little lock above her temple
that was lighter than the rest. Robert
had said that he loved it better than
the whole of her. Suddenly she came
to her feet with spring, and her lips
~ cd Che 1nrf fop r6 with that
crouching movement sometimes seen
in supple women, and then sank back
again. There was a parley in the hall,
and she knew the voice. Yet it seemed
incredible. Presently her own door
swung open, and some one came in. 1t
was the man she loved-"eternally!"
cried her spirit, with throb. A great
blush dyed her face, and perhaps, if he
had held out his arms, she would have
flung herself into them on the wave of
q hope newborn. But he only came
forward, and stood looking, down at
her with conscious assumption of
mastery quite new in her knowledge
of him. 1t appeared as if he had come
with a purpose. In her the first mo-
tion of an impetuous spirit had been
quelled. Now her fine social training
stood her in hand. Her cheeks were
still red, but she looked up at him i'm
passively. She could not we'll rise; he
was too near her. 1t was he who spoke.
SWELL" said he. "'Who put my man
T. the stocks?'"
Her delicate eyebrows lifted a little.
If he meant to be literary, rather than
human, she could meet him.
Quota ations?" she asked.
"Yes; Lear. I've been thinking it
up all the way. Who put my man J.
the stocks""
"You should have pre- pared me. Or,
if it's game, tell me so, and needn't
play. l always hated them"
II remember. No, it isn't game.
It's question. In plain English, why
did you put me>in magazine story %
Her eyes sank. She was guilty, and
she knew it.
"Oh," she said, with futile scorn
meant to hide her tracks, "the old ac-
cusation! We write something, and
the world declares we dragged it out
of our own hearts. I thought you
knew better. If you don't, what's the
use of writing stories yourself?"
HIT smiled at her with an exasperat-
ing indulgence.
Your generality is glittering and
correct" said he, 'but just here it
doesn't apply. You know very well
thot Won iJao li1ad mo opd mt mo hod-
lily into that very clever story. 1 was
kidnapped. But the deed served it's
purpose, never really knew till then
how nice you thought me-"
"You!" she flashed. 1.-THE man in
the story was brave, chivalrous, splen-
did!"
"Oh. yes!" he nodded. But he's me
all the same. I'm going to be brave,
chivalrous, splendid, now you've given
me my cue. I've met an edition de
luxe of my own poor self, and it's hav-
ing tremendous effect on me. You
will see!"
Emily moved little impatiently.
II wish you would sit down." she
said, with the weary air of one who
would fain have added, "or go home"
You make me so nervous standing
there"
$50 Diogenes said to Alexander. No,
| can't sit down, thank you. I'm 60
ing to the opera, and you are going
with me-"
In spite of herself, Emily took on
the look of a radiant happiness. She
honestly believed that he had ceased
to love her, but it was better to be
bullied by him than courted by an
ether man.
"You are not by any chance related
to the Lochinvars?" she asked, with
an air of polite interest. "Your mode
of invitation is SO strikingly similar"
NO" said he, coolly. "And my er-
rand reads differently. He rode for
love, l for revenge"
what do you mean? I'm just off
the ship. My head is in no state for
subtleties."
Then, plainly, you put me in a
story. You leave me there with the
woman l love. You send us off to the
opera together, and you deliberately
wreck us by the way. We hit snag,
we quarrel, we finish our scrimmage
in the carriage coming home, and we
part eternally at the door. Now. 1t has
occurred to me, as matter of poetic
al retaliation, that you should go
through exactly that scene with me,
whose emotions you have made so free
with. Childish? Oh. yes. but you owe
me sOma amanda -