Barre evening telegram. (Barre, Vt.) 1898-19??, 1899-03-29
ONLY A STORY.

w
ton. and train pulled forth great bill
lows of black smoke into the white heat
ed air. A group of listless, lounging
farmers was outlined against the I'M
painted wall of the depot. the stolid
look of Indifference upon their faces
seeming to make them akin to the
shriveled grass and dropping clover.
That they were really hopeless was not
without cause The summer had been
hot and wretched and desolate. The
corn had dried before it came to tassel,
the wheat had rusted and the meadows
Drowned before the haying time.
Caine Denton took off his jaunty
straw hat and leaned from the window.
His quick eye took note of the express
sionless faces of the loungers and their
attitude of hopelessness. Poor devils"
he murmured to himself. wonder
what they have to live for anyway"
The keen eye moved on past the un'
painted buildings to the hot glare Of
the sandy road. A child stood thrusting
her little bare feet into the dust and
watching him shyly under the shadow
of her sunbonnet. Caine whistled softly
under his breath-he loved child-and
was rewarded by shy smile, quickly
suppressed by the insertion of two little
brown fingers between the red lips.
"The only bit of brightness in the land
scape." he thought, and as the train
moved laboriously forward, land now
that is gone, and he leaned back in
his seat YEARLY.
He was handsome fellow. women
would say-and really they are the
judges the world most honors-the
breadth of his shoulders and the depth
of his chest making one forget that he
was little short in stature. Perfectly
formed, with the muscles of a gladiator,
he was delight to the eye. Then his
face, clear cut, with high, noble fore
head crowned with soft. wavy, brown
hair, the firm. square chin, the keen
blue eyes full of fire and intelligence
under straight dark brows, was remark
ably pleasing. One studying it would
say, "He is financier, practical, firm
born to SUCCESS but in the mouth
there was contradiction of this-a
certain full Tipped tenderness which in
Dictated a struggle with passion, the
kind which filings reason to the winds
and gloats in possession.
Was there anything wanting in his
life that was necessary to happinesss
No, the world would say. Wealth, sta
ton, hosts of friends, were his Yes,
and love. All children loved him and
many women. He had sown good seed
and brought many broken life out OF
darkness into light.
He had never married-the reason,
perhaps, because of the nonappearance
of his ideal Several years ago he had
met a woman, and several times during
the progress of their acquaintance he
had imagined that he loved her There
was in her flashes of intellect that he
admired; there was the deep. under
ground swell of passion that he secretly
loved in woman; there were the little
loving ways of speech and manner that
reminded him of his dead mother; there
was the desire to be helpful that touched
him and the Griseldalike patience that
hurt him, for he felt his incompetence
to act as she would nave had him act.
Yet there were moments-but she was
not beautiful-and he was an artist by
nature.
The train whirled on through the
meadows barer and browner. Game
turned his tired eyes within. The crisp
pages If his magazine opened to story,
"Shadows. YEARLY his eyes Travelled
over its first page as they had Travelled
over the dreariness of earth parched
landscape. He turned the second page
and frown of perplexity knit the dark
brows. This description! How it
brought back days of long ago.
Game laid down the magazine. 1t
brought it all back-that time when al
most he loved woman. He read en-.
Twas simple little story of love and
faith and the love and the faith belong
ed to the woman-is it not often so
The man all but loved woman who
was poor and plain, who had naught to
attract but heart full of sympathy
for humankind, full Of longings for bet
ter things, full of an ungovernable
idolatrous worship for that which she
could not attain
The man had left her. knowing she
loved him, successful, secure in his own
strength to live his life alone-and the
woman loved ON. How her heart was
laid bare in the story What fervor,
what passion. what longing were ex,
pressed There was. prayer for thu
loved one in every line-and the heart
break at the end
GOOD God!" he thought. "Can only
a woman love after air.
How weak were his own emotions be-
side this. What were ideals7 Did moi
this suffering of another for oneself pu'
away all thought Of thems
What fool blind fool. be had beer
not to sec that the woman was breaking
her heart for him, dying slowly. cruelty
for the nourishment that only love
with its duties and cares, can bring.
A flood of pity swept over his sou
II. crept into channels long un
ased. \. hat mattered Wall street, tn
club, fashionable friends7 He coul
give them all up. Love such as this wa
worth any sacrifice.
He buttoned the magazine into tn
pocket of his ulster and reached for
time table. At o'clock they woul
reach the junction. Then 800 mile
AWAY was that woman-the woman VIII
loved him. His strong, evenly pulse
life should calm the fever in her life
the story would have different ending
How the hours seemed to crawl froi
this timel He caught himself countin