The Press., 1899-04-20
aoy.. BAKING POWDER CO., NEW voak.

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 tbeautiful-and he was an artist by
nature.
The train whirled on through the
meadows barer and browner Caine
turned his tired eyes within. The crisp
pages OF hisSmagazine opened to story,
Shadows. - =: -Wearily his eyes Travelled
over it's first page as they had travelled
over the dreariness of earth parched
landscape. He turned the second page
and a frown of perplexity knit the dark
brows. This description How it
brought back days of long ago.
Caine laid down the magazine. 1t
brought it all back-that time when al
most he loved woman. He read en-.
Twas a simple little story of love and
faith and the love and the faith belong
ed to the woman-is It not often so 2
The man all but loved a woman who
was poor and plain, who had naught to
attract but a 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
le%r v%h 70 L. e. !.
woman loved on. How her heart was
laid bare in the story! What fervor.
what passion, what longing were ex-
pressed! There was a prayer for the
loved one in every line-and the heart
break at the end
"Good Go,!' he thought. "Can only
a woman love after all?''
How weak were his own emotions be-
side this. What were ideals? Did not
this sufferin of another for oneself put
away all thought Of them?
What fool, a blind fool, he had been
not to see that the woman was breaking
her heart fc" him, dying slowly, cruelty
for the norrishment that only love,
with its duties and cares, can bring.
A food of pity swept over his soul
and tears crept into channels long un-
used. What mattered Wall street, the
club, fashionable friends? He could
give them all up. Love such as this was
worth any sacrifice.
4 He buttoned the magazine into the
pocket of his ulster and reached for a
time table. AT o'clock they would
reach the junction. Then 500 miles
away was that woman-the woman who
loved him. His strong, evenly pulsed
life should calm the fever in her life
the story would have different ending.
How the hours seemed to crawl from
this time! He caught himself counting
the telegraph poles to keep himself from
thinking. He must not turn back-not
even in thought-to the world he was
leaving. Another one was before him,
in which there was only one figure. No
more careless freedom, no more silent
worship Of his ideal woman-the shad-
ow wife of that future, so rosy and
} bright, when his heart should waken
from its long slumber and know real
happiness. Duty should hereafter ever
rule.
A night and day had passed before
he arrived at his destination. He sum
moned a carriage at the station and
drove rapidly to the beautiful suburb
where the woman lived. He could not
rest or sleep until that poor heart was
eased of it's burden, and then-ah ther
and he shut his teeth hard-would he
, rest then2
With what a commingling of glad
ness, remorse, expectancy and fear ht
mounted the terrace and stood at tht
door of the cottage where she lived
The evening sunlight was tuning thu
waters of the lake into sheen of glory
and touched the leaves Of the fading
foliage into roseate beauty.
, Toward the south the leaves screen
, ing the lovers walk whispered softly
, together of secrets sweeter than thos'
ever told, and the katydids called GLAD
tidings to one another. The peace and
the beauty of the sunset stole into hi
heart and softened it still more as i
framed kind words for his lips to uttel
to her who had so suffered for him.
Yet the door opened and he was 81
lent. A slender, worn figure stood be
, fore him. Mechanically he took tn
! hoAu VI GuC WOlllUu anu uIcW uCI Oub VI
D the light, his voice unsteady in greet
|. ing. "You welcome me, Jeanette 2
I For moment the fire of glad youth an,
! passion shone in her tear faded eyes
\ II have come long distance to go
( you, my poor girl. The story-I hav
it here-it must have different end
ingl"
"The story!' The light which ha'
( transfgured the tender face faded away
The slender form which had for a mo
ment trembled and bent toward him a
\ grasses bend to the warm wind tina
( wooes them, stiffened and drew aside
"4ou forget, said the naughty voice
4 'that it is only a story, therefore un
! true"
And so was love laid away, and prid
! was the stone laid at the door of it
sepulcher. Chicago News.
WORKING NIaHT AND DAY.-The bus