Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1898-05-12
~ ovvendelins Ovsrson.

u 10 q commonplace Of speech that
there is no changing the leopazd's
spots. The keen observer OF his kind,
who has not twelve axioms wherewith
to work the theorems Of life, but 1200,
accepts it as gospel. Raymond, who
was not q keen observer, but a man
with faith in his heart, did not accept
1t. In the face OF advice, and eau
ton, and good counsel, he decided to
reduce it to the absurd and marry
Cicely Glanville. Success crowned
him, as even those who warned him
know now, but It was desperate
risk.
Far back in the days which it were
heresy to doubt were as good as they
were old, when Alan was just the
stolid small son Of Capt. Raymond,
and Gcely was but the sngel-fscsd
little daughter Of Capt. Raymond's
first lieutenant, Marlitt, the boy and
girl had been fond Of one another.
They had made ! ud-pies and hunted
the first wild-fowers Of the plains,
and had ridden burros and broncos to-
gether. They had wintered and sum-
mered, in each others company, the
mountains and prairies Of the South
west, while the land was yet given
over to the never nding disturbances
Of the hostiles. They had learned
what 1t 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-sav-
age freedom shared together, they
came to think themselves inseparable.
And then they were separated. Cice-
ly was to be civilized. She was sent
East and abroad to school. Alan Ray
mond went through West Point and
got his commission. Thereupon Fate
which at times does what might q,
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 looked at the curving
red lips and thick brown hair, and
guessed the future. She had changed
for the worse and for the better. She
had been civilized, and was less
frank; she had learned to attain her
ends by indirect means, yet, as wo-
men go, she was honest. But the
sanity face was more beautiful and
the child was grown to one Of those
women whom to love is to worship
And in due time Raymond loved her.
There are men who take their love
as simply as they do the breath OF
their life. 1t is necessary to them,
but theydo not go mad with the costa
cy Of its possession. When Raymond
had told Cicely that he loved her, and
when she had laid her head upon his
choulder and hao put her slende :,
chnging hands in his, and, turning
up the beautiful, deep, eyes to his
face, had said, II love YOU" he was
satisfied. His fault, if such it were,
was that he was undemonstrative,
and Cicely's-though some count il
virtue in woman-that she was
jealous. OF all vices, jealousy carries
with II its own swiftest punishment.
IL realizes its unreason, but is power
less--like dreamer who suffers and
can not 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 doubt
ed. The tiny stone of suspicion be-
gan to roll. a question which Cicely
was too proud to ask would have
checked it, but 1t rushed on and be-
came an avalanche that buried and
crushed their happiness under its
mass. Raymond looked on dazed. He
could not understand.
When it was too late, it was made
plain. Cicely sat before her own fire,
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-
piece. lie was an honest man. He
had 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:
"Cicely, why did you do it," he ask.
ed.
she started back and looked up at
him. For one long minute the deep
eyes 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 fercest sort that
enters, once, at least, into most lives
tragedy that seems to rend the veil
Of ones universe in twain and to open
up the graves where ones hopes and
sorrows have lain sleeping. Yet we
jeer at melodrama when we are
shown bits from the play Of exist
ence that are as nothing to the truth.
We say It Is over-acted. 1t is because
1t has been mercifully given to us to
forget. In the past. Raymond, first
Of all, would have scoffed: in the fu-
ture, he would come to doubt the hor-
ror Of the present moment. But 1t
oovrht and La1J hix, tkan ,,;xL .