Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1899-02-23
Faith Unfaithful
BY Mrs. Eva Nepean

TWAS all over. The excitement and
the confusion of tongues, the obit-
uary notices, the list Of those present
al the funeral, their wreaths, -their~let-
tiers of coincidence, the usual message
from royalty, that made up the nine
days wonder were passed, eand.~the
world had rolled on-out of sight of
that newl y-made grave, with it's bur-
deniof sacrificed flowers wincing in the
January frost-and the incident was
closed. If our everyday horrors only
happened little oftener, they would
cease to be horrors at all. 's-s" s-'>se," o>,~-
W. had loved this young man, the ris-
ing author of the time, we wept over his
books, we wept over his untime1y
death, in the orthodox big railway ac-
cidente just outside .Southampto on, sat
the early age of 36;". We talked of
''deathless fame" and said "whom the
gods love die young" and then changed
the subject.
There are younger and handsomer
writer's of newer books, that do not al
ways make us weep, and we cannot cry
forever, because, if we try to, we look
old.
So we went on with the world, and
left Ma rtin Arthur behind. Mrs. Roupell
stood before the mirror in her bed
room, leaning her hands on the toilet
table, with its adornings of crystal
and ivory, and looked at her face in the
glass. -
isn't it written there?" she said
aloud. And then she laughed, the aw-
full laugh of woman who is burlesqu..
ing her own real emotion, which has it's
source. in the very foundations of a
deep nature, and which will die when
it dies, or kill it; there is no other
way. ...z> #s2,~.n. ,s.... : ,,..,-...zz. . ST
Three people had asked her. that day:
why she was in mourning. The friends
and acquaintance had gradually real
lied that the touches of color which
had of late begun to tighten the heavy,
deadness' of her Widows weeds had
again faded into black as before, and
that the strange heart wearing: heart
siickening time of mourning seemed to
have gone. back a step. and resumed its
old haggard uncertainty. -. . g
sFor Maria Roupell was a widow, and
No widow Herb US band was dead-so.
said ordinary. surmise, SO said human
probability, SO said the newspapers
which gave an account of the sinking
Of. the Atlantic liner Ramadan, with all
hands but two, in the bay three years
before, There was only one thing lack
ing, positive, incontrovertibleu proof;
and that thing tarried.Se+> ~ ~ -. !,
She was, compare lively speaking,
young woman; that is, she. had been as
young as most wonderland the smile
isssnotsas yague,as itsounds- tilahree
weeks before. Now she loolxedSin the
glass under that pitiless~ northern
light, took note of every stray white
hair, of every line of suffering round
the beautiful, strong mouth, and the.
purple hollows under the somber black
'eyes-looked, and, laughed at her own
misery, and said to herself: You are
@!old ld-old, but three weeks ago he
loved you'll" She thought she. was
alone, as only a womanTwho has loved
and lost, can be-, but, because Of that
great knowledge, she was not.
She had been passionatcry in love
with Martin Arthur. In the old days of
3 racking uncertainty as to her hus-
bands fate, she had met the rising au-
thor whose name was then appearing
abovefame's horizon, as the edge Of the
suns disc looks overinto the world, He