The representative. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1893-1901, 1899-05-25
...CONFIDENCE.

...CONFlDENCE...
II poverty does not render a man NOR
bid, it makes him gentle and ndhearted.
That is what 1t did for Jonathan Harrod.
In the early days we had roomed together
in college, was going to say slept to-
gether. but Jonathan seldom slept. He
smoked and drank coffee and worked in
stead, and blossomed into winner Of prizes.
AS Jonthtan was in love as we'll as in debt,
and just as prone as / to substitute pipes
for meals when the larder was low, we
learned to love each other during those four
years with an affection that was firm and
conf1ding.
Jonathan used to advise me to fall in
love, too. Il tell you, old man." he would
say when opening letter of familiar blue,
when you're not feeling we'll and the
world CRATES on you like camefs-hair
shirt, there is nothing so good as an old
fashioned love letter."
The writer of the old-fashioned mis-
sives lived out west, in Harrod's native
town. and although 1 never met her, I
came to know her almost as we'll as Har-
rod did, he spoke of her so often. And then
I used to watch his face when he read her
letters. They must have been tender and
sympathetic, but withal dash of ambition
and inspiration in them. No tale of village
gossip could have brought that light into
Jonathan's eyes, nor that flash of color to
his cheek. At their conclusion he would
dream awhile, perhaps, then fall to at his
books and work like mad.
He showed me her picture one night. She
was dark-with high forehead and
shadowy eyes. The mouth and chin were
both we'll formed, but rather masculine. 1t
was a beautiful face, though not very
pretty.
Although Harrod had loved the girl all
his life-and she him, il there he ought in
the signs of the zodiac-they had misun-
derstanding of some sort or other during the
summer that followed his graduation. When
he returned east, the following autumn, he
was quieter than ever before. and if pos
sible. more gentle and sympathetic. He and
1 had rooms together where. in lieu of other
inexpensive pastime we were wont to spend
the evenings working and reading. I saw
from the first that something allied him;
and as he no longer received the blue en-
velopes nor counseled me to lose my heart,
I guessed the reason and asked no ques-
lions. He did not become apathetic-Jona-
than didn't. His old habit Of work was
stronger than ever. And now his stories
began to appear occasionally in the maya
zines, and the dear public to recognize his
name and to read what went with it.
Two years had passed away before Jona-
than made even the slightest reference to
this love affair of his; and that was when
he came into my room one cherries, gray
November afternoon, the picture of abject
melancholy. In his hand was a crumpled
H. To- sI~
before me on the table, then he went and
seated himself before the fireplace where I
could not see his face. The paper was a
clipping from some inland journal describ-
ing in ford terms the wedding of Miss
Winifred Conover to one Amos Scheneck.
Only half the article had been clipped evil
IDENTIFY, and this had been pasted half
sheet of note paper. 1 read the towdry eff
fusion through, then twisted it to pieces
and dropped it into the waste basket.
Jonathan, my boy l said, going over
and seating myself on the arm of his chair,
who sent you this thing?"
II do not know" and there was a world
of sadness in his voice, 1.-The envelope was
addressed in strange hand and not a word
accompanied it,"
We were both silent for a moment. The
logs we're burning cheerily, outside the wind
was blowing gale. Jonathan sat with
his face in his hands. when I came here
to you just now he said, II was chilled
and lonely-the day is so somber-and I
had been tramping all over the country, and
well, came to say goodbye. wanted to
leave this life and wait for Winifred in the
next, for"-his voice went straight to my
heart-"ah, Billy, love her SOL" 1 regard
ed him with compassion. you lie down
here on the lounge before the fire and go to
Sleep" commanded him, "and stop this
COMPOUNDED brooding." I pushed forward
the couch as 1 spoke and he dropped on it
like an obedient child. He gave me one
grateful look, and then, under the influence
of the genial warmth. and the fatigue of
many vigils, fell fast asleep.
There are days in the lives of US all. I
fancy. when a vague and subtle sense of
mystery invests the commonest Objects
when our minds cognize new qualities in
common things; when the look in the eyes
of child, the CLINT of sunlight in a woman's
hair, the sound of distant church bell,
stir feelings weep within us we have never
known before. That afternoon there was a
white carnation in the vase on my writing
table, and as sat there pondering Jona-
than's sorrows its perfume stole into my
brain like a sweet and potent anodyne It
conjured up visions as fair as the dreams of
DR.. Faustus; and yet-and yet there was a
sense Of foreboding, a premonition of some
thing about to occur.
Whether or not dozed cannot say but
suddenly was aware that some one other
than Jonathan was in the room, and that he
or she was wide awake and looking at me
intently. raised my eyes, and there, to
my infinite surprise and establishment, saw
standing opposite me. across the table, a
stylishfy gowned young woman.
l started to my feet with an apology on
my lips. but as I glanced at her face my
tongue was tied and remained silent She
was dark, with a high forehead and shadowy
eyes. The mouth and chin were both well
formed, but rather masculine. And she
was beautiful, though not very pretty.
Miss Conover!" I exclaimed.
EYES," she answered in a, voice that was
low and vibrant, 'it is l." Then, with
her brown eyes fixed on the white carnation
and the color mantling her cheek, she con-
tinued: II have just arrived in the city.
Yesterday I learned that an ancient enemy
of Jonathan's sent him a paragraph from
an account of my cousins wedding, and
the color increased, then quickly subsided-