The Billings gazette. [volume] (Billings, Mont.) 1896-1919, 1899-10-13
NOT FOR PUBLICATION.
An Author Gets an Inspiration
From an Unexpected
Source.

lllSG . "
bricks without straw all the year
round. | wish-there, l wish to God
I'd never learned how to writer
And vet it had paid him In solid coin.
no far. One Of his minor dreams was
realized; the window of his writing
room overlooked a suburban roadway
along which jarring wheels seldom
ratified; he had got away from the
whir and drone of the town, where his
nerves had been at a tension all day
long. He could compose ] in peace. And
vet he sat with the bitter. idle stare.
clutching a dry pen.
The door behind creaked; a wonlan
glided in on tiptoe. Don't start-it's
only l." she whispered.
"Don't start" He threw down the
pen without turning. Its all starts
or the strain Of expecting them. I'm
sick Of it, l tell you-sick of it all"
"What Is the matter?" She had paus.
ed half way, with hands together.
"Can't you writer
"Write! I've nothing to write. I'm
drained dry. And l promised n tragic
story"-with a half sneer-"for that
Society Sun. Tragic! What's the
timew
at must be nearly G." ..
"Six? Dark in another hour-dusk
now! I've done nothing. And you-you
never attempt to help me, by so much
as a word" y
"Never help your" she echoed; and
repeated it to herself. II never help
him! But when have you asked such a
thing? What good would be my ideas?'
"Oh, not much. Women seldom have
real ideas. They're fitting superficialj
ties. Still
A long silence. The door creaked
again, but he knew she had only closed
it and was still lowering behind him,
He was somewhat surprised, but would
not turn, vaguely conscious of the
sneer's hollowness. Then
Il never help you" she repeated
calmly. would you like me to try?
Perhaps something has just come into
my mind. 1t Is silly, maybe, as tell
1t; but you, my husband, might make
1t clever and interesting. You say
your SlOIlSS are always INduuLe uS yOu
first set them down."
do I? Well, what Is IT." he said,
staring across ut the opposite roofs.
''This situation is novel. Go on. Never
mind as long as there Is anything at all
in it."
"There is-there is a woman's heart
In it, l think" she whispered. as that
any goodY'
ooh" he said. Her voice had tailed
of as If she had a real idea, but was
afraid Of the sheer. "Well, there usual
~ Is; that's one Of the component
parts Of the average story. Even humor
Is the brighter for tragedy lurking in
the background. you know. Anything
In the heart? That's the point. Yes;
anything in this hearth
Another silence. Couldn't tell you
just as 1t came to me, thenY she said.
"l'm not clever enough to know. It's
more Of a sketch, perhaps. IL imagin-
ed two lovers, very dear lovers. They
got married, and there was a beautiful
world before them, with such peace
at the end, If they knew! Make the
man an artist. He lived for his art.
The girl--the girl was only just a girl:
she lived for the a She hung on
his every word, you might say; she
prayed for his success when he was
never there to hear. thought for him
in ways that he would never know and
checked her singing and moved softly
SO that he should never be disturbed at
his work. You're not writing. Is it so
silly?'
go on" he whispered. "rhere-
there's nothing to write yet"
"That went on for years. The man,
deeper and deeper in his work, never
saw that his wife was changing, that
the light had gone out of her eyes.
He forgot all he had meant to be-for-
got after a time even to kiss her, and
the girl-she could never bring herself
to remind him-eh? She still lived
only for him, but he never cared what
she wore, eve thought that her work
might be hard In its little way. and
that there are some ONE for whom
years Of such silence and loneliness
spells death-or worse. She wal al.
ways crying ut first and never dared to
tell him why II he did not see for him.
self and kept out Of his way SO that
his mind should not be spoiled fol-
work. And he-say that he thought |,
was something else and spoke harsh
~ and sneered and at last got so tina,
he lived In a world Of his own ant
wouldn't open his door when-when h,
knew that her heart was bursting out
side, longing for n kind word again
Or-or-something like that. Could 70,
begin anything with thatw
No answer. She could not see, bu
the mans outward stare was as II |
would never again relax. She wen
On 9 little faster. her voice taking
thrill-just ~ though his silence I'm
Dlisd that there.might be real dramatl
Dosslbilities In her small inspiration.
= ---N RAl