The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1899-10-17
NOT FOR PUBLICATION.
An Author Gets an Inspiration
From an Unexpected
Source.
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t'What a lifer' repeated the man to
himself with almost writhe. Making
bricks without straw all the. year
round. / wish-there, wish to God
I'd never learned how to writer
And yet it had paid him In solid coin,
so far. One Of his minor dreams was
realized; the window Of his writing
room overlooked suburban roadway
along which EARRING 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
yet he sat with the bitter, idle stare,
clutching dry pen.
The door behind creaked; woman
glided in on tiptoe. Don't start-it's
only l." she whispered.
Don't startp' He threw down the
pen without turning. tits all starts
or the strain Of expecting them. I'm
sick of 1t, tell you-sick Of 1t all"
what is the matterf" She had paus-
ed half way, with hands together.
Cant you writer
write! I've nothing to write. Pm
drained dry. And promised tragic
story'-with a half sneer-''for that
Society Sun. Tragic! What's the
timer
"It 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 wordw
s'Never help your she echoed; and
repeated it to herself. ~ never help
him! But when have you asked such
thing? What good would be my ideas"
"Oh, not much. Women seldom have
real ideas. They're fitting SUPERFICIAL
ties. StilI'-
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
sneers hollowness. Then
81 never help you," she repeated
| calmly. ''Would you like me to try
Perhaps something has just come into
my mind. 1t rs silly, maybe, as l tell
it; but you, my husband, might make
| it clever and interesting. Xou say
your stories are always twaddle as you
| first set them down."
"Do I? Well, what is itT' he said,
staring across at 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 ''Is that
any good?"
"Ohp' he said. Her voice had tailed
off as If she had real idea, but was
afraid of the sneer. well, there usual
ly is; that's one Of the component
parts Of the average story. Even humoI
Is the brighter for tragedy lurking ir
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, thenT she said
''I'm not clever enough to know. It'll
more of sketch, perhaps. IL imagin
ed two lovers, very dear lovers. The!
got married, and there was beautiful
world before them, with such peace
at the end. If they knewi Make thu
man an artist. He lived for his art
The girl-the girl was only just a girl
she lived for the man. She hung oil
his every word, you might say; sh'
prayed for his success when he wa
never there to hear, thought for hin
in ways that he would never know ant
checked her singing and moved softl,
so that he should never be disturbed a
his work You're not writing. Is 1t g.
silly?
60 on" he whispered. There
there's nothing to write yet"
THAT went on for years. The mar
deeper and deeper in his work. neve
saw that his wife was changing, tina
the light had gone out Of her eyes
! He forgot all he had meant to be-fo.
got after a time even to kiss her, an
the girl-she could never bring hersel
,, to remind him-eh? She still live
only for him. but he never cared wha
|. she wore, never thought that her wor
might be hard in its little way, an
, that there are some women for whoI
years Of such silence and lonelines
spells death-or worse. She was a
ways crying at first and never dared I
tell him why If he did not see for hin
self and kept out OF his way SO thu
I his mind should not be spoiled Il
! work. And he-say that he thought
q was something else and spoke harsl
. ly and sneered and ut last got SO til,
T he lived in world Of his own an
+ wouldn't open his door when-when /
knew that her heart was bursting on
!. side, longing for one kind word agai
4 Or-or-something like that. Could yC
begin anything with thatY'
r No answer. She could not see, bl
! the mans outward stare was as II
i would never again relax. She wei
, on little faster, her voice taking
thrill-just as though his silence in