Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1899-08-07
HER CONSCIENCE.

dividual and only one in each generation
was possessed of the Dillingham; con-
science. In her case, however, it might be
more correct to say that the Dillingham;
conscience possessed her.
Her mother was disappointed and dis
tressed when she saw the first indications
that the family conscience was developing
In her eldest daughter. She did her best
to ward of the calamity, but to no pur-
pose.
eff only it had been Almira instead of
Cornelia, l wouldn't care so much" she
complained, "but to think that the best
looking one of them all should be the one
to have it-oh, dear.
And now Cornelia will be prevented
by the conscience and Almira by her plain
ness from making good matches. don't
believe either Of them will marry at all,
though there is a possibility that Almira
may. Cornelia won't, I know"
There had been two young men who
wanted to marry Cornelia. Her mother
would have preferred Robert Weston for a
s%on-in-law, but as she could not be suited
in everything she was only too glad to see
her daughter married to Willard Carter.
She did not know, and neither did Cor
nelia nor any of her friends, that Carter
was by far the better man of the two.
For nearly a year Cornelia and Willard
seemed very happy together; then there
began to be some vague, indefinable trou-
Bile. Willard would come home unexpect-
eddy to find Cornelia in tears, and she
would make no explanation to him.
This made him very unhappy, and as
her spells of depression became more and
more frequent he began to have a care
worn and harassed look. Finally one even
ing he told her that she must tell him
what was the trouble.
But l can't" she protested tearfully.
"Why not?' he demanded. "Dnn't you
know what it is YOURSELF"
eyes"
"Then for heavens sake tell mo if you
don't want me to go insane"
He thought that she was about to yield
when there came u ring at the door. With
an impatient exclamation Willard an
swered the call, and Cornelia heard him
greeting some one.
"Why, Weston, old fellow, have you got
home? Come in"
The two men had been friends in the
old days. They shook hands cordially,
and Willard led the way into the room
where Cornelia sat. This was the first
time she had seen her former admirer since
her marriage, and she looked from him to
her husband occasionally with an odd ex-
preston in her eyes.
When their caller had departed and Will
lard came back from seeing hin. to the
door, he found Cornelia crying with her
face buried in a sofa cushion. Ile cast Il
despairing glance at her and went and
stood beside her. After q few mir utcs she
said in aquiet voice:
willard, it makes me look like Il fright
to cry, SO if you will turn down the lights
will tell you everything"
When they were in semidarkress, she
asked him to come n sit beside ler.
"About a year ago you married a little
fool" she began, land tonight for the
first time she has had a glimmer OF sense.
1t will take her a long while even now to
get rid of all her foolishness, but ] begin
to have hopes of her.
"You have heard of the Dillingham;
conscience, of course, but l never have
told you how it worked in my case. All
my life l have liked to do things because l
didn't like to do them. That was my
chief happiness. But as 1 grew older it
got harder and harder, for l kept getting
to like to do the things l did not like to
do, and so, of course, l wouldn't like to do
them any longer. Do you understand"
II think so," said Willard quite
gravely.
"Well, 1t finally occurred to me that if
I married a mar l did not like 1 would
have something to do all my life that
would not like to do in being nice to him. "
She paused, and in the dusk put out her
hand to meet his. When she found it, she
held it tight.
"When you came along, Willard, l
thought you were that man, but l made a
big mistake. For a time, even after we
were married, l thought you were that
man, and I was as good to you as I could
be, and 1 was very happy.
But it wasn't long before l began to
find out my mistake. You were so kind
and nice in every way that IL began to
fall in love with you. And my abomina-
Bile conscience made me miserable in on
sequence, for, you see, l was good to you
then because l liked to be. l tried hard
to see your faults, and some Of your little
ways which l thought l disliked gave me
great comfort then. But 1t was no use.
I began to like them, too, pretty soon.
"But even then there was one thing
which kept me up, and that is what I hate
to tell you worst of ALL" She paused,
then went on slowly, Il must tell you,
though, and you mustn't mind it, for you
know / was a little fool" She paused
again and seemed to find it very hard to
say.
WELL" she went ON desperately, II
thought all along that l liked Mr.. Weston
better than you, and this made mo feel
happier a part of the time and wretched
the rest.
"But it grew worse and worse, because 1
didn't think of him SO much. Tonight,
when he came, I was frightened at first
don't forget for a moment that I was a
little fool-my horrid conscience said that
If I really did like him best l would be all
right again, but I don't want to like him.
"When 1 saw him and heard him talk,
l wondered how I ever could have cared
for him. Then l looked at you and Won
dered still more. know he is your friend,
but I hope you will excuse my saying that
he is odious, and 1 can't bear the sight Of
him."
Willard had been very quiet during the
confession, but now he laughed.
us that alp" hc asked.
Eyes," she answered, 'that is all, and
enough too. Can you forgive meY"
Willard put his arm about her and drew
her close, and his silence was very elo-
quent.
but why were you crying when 1 came
back into the roomS" he asked a little
later when the lights were burning
brightly.
She looked up to him, smiling.
why" she said, II was just shedding
a few tears over the poor old Dillingham;
conscience-for it is dead, you know. -
Cleveland Press.