The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1899-01-18
TRAGEDY OR COMEDY.

| knew George Arbuthnot pretty well
for two years ever since he had hecu
married, in faCt-and considered him
a rising fellow in the literary world.
He hadn't done anything very great,
but his work was distinctly promising,
and his name was gradually making
itself known. Unluckily, he had mar
ried the wrong woman.
But my friend wasn't like some men
he didn't whine and cry, he made the
best of IL. He didn't go out and search
for a "twin sour' to whom he might
confide his marital sufferings-though,
Phoebus knows. he had enough to put
up with. 1t was not bad temper. 1t
was pealousy-bitter, mean, inCcssant
jeasousy--that grudged him even his
literary fame. Agatha Arbuthnot was
not one of those little, pale blue-eyed
women, with a spteful tongue and Il
narrow heart, who have ruined the
career Of many a sensitive man. She
hated to hear her husbands praises
sounded in her ears.
one afternoon Agatha was slanging
Arbuthnot because some women, VINO
had happened to call the day before,
had gushed. and told her how fortu-
nate she was to be the wife of such
rising genius. Her face was crimson
with anger, and her voice was very
shrill as she mimicked her callers.
Dear Mrs. Arbuthnot! How proud
you must be of your clever husband!
He's quite a genius! How I envy you
living wi h the man who can write
such exquisite stories!"
Then she stamped her foot, and turn
ed savagely on Arbuthnot.
Clever Exquisite! a genius, l
never saw any genius in your silly
tales. Beastly rot / call them. 1 wish
to goodness Id married Harry Jcn-
kins instead OF you. At any rate, peo-
pie wouldn't have praised him up just
to run me down. l know what they
mean. OF course I'm stupid, ana
brainless, and silly-not good enough
for you to wipe you boots OH"
And then Arbuthnot did the most
sensible thing possible. He walked out
of the dining room and locked himself
up in his study. Agatha, on seeing the
lines of his mouth more firmly set than
usual, and guessing nothing of the
tempest that surged in his mind, i'm
mediately went off into a. violent fit
of Mysteries, and called the sympathet-
iC housemaid to witness that George
was q perfect brute--it would serve
him right if she ran away with some
one else
Georges den wasn't much of n
study merely a oke-beSrimed
den. furnished with a secondhand
bureau, two or three chairs, and some
shelves of books. Agatha called It
Georges sulking-rOom," but l knew
that it was the only haven of refuge
Arbuthnot could find in his own house.
"A man must dree his own weird"
ArbuthnOt said, as he sat down wear
lily at the bureau and looked at the
sheets of paper Uttered over his desk.
I'm not the only fool who's found
marriage failure, and, after all, I've
got a brain as well as q heart. Ill
give myself up to work. and waste
no time in morbid self-pity. That's a
form of CoWardice that leads to the
cutting of ones throat; and if I've eX-
hausted the possibilities of marriage
III he hanged if I've exhausted the
possibilities of life"
He smiled grimly, and taking from
one of the pigeon holes a notebook.
laid it on his desk and began to read
its contents.
From that day Arbuthnot progress
ed swiftly through the book that was
to make his name. This was to be his
masterpiece. wherein he would show
| his best of brain and heart; and, as
the weeks rolled on and the novel
neared its end, Arbuthnot realized his
work was good, and in that knowledge
could afford to live, and did live, with
out love and sympathy.
In truth, he needed the support that
| work and philosophy could give a man.
| Agatha's conduct grew daily more
! shrewish and violent, and her tongue
| less fastidious in its choice of words.
so you've taken To locking yourself
| up in Your sulking room," she cried
| one when ArbuthnOt had pcrforce been
| compelled to answer her heavy bang
! ing on his study door. ITS a nice
| thing when Il husband comes to lock
| himself up from his Wife. | suppose
| my society's not good enough for such
a clever man as you"
Arbuthnot saw chat she was in on
of her paroXysms of rage and resolv-
| ed to control his own feelings
| Il wanted to finish some work" he
| said calmly, looking at the floor, lit
tered with loose sheets of paper. "And
this room is hardly tit for lady's So
| ciety. You see I have books"
| Yes. it's a horrid hole" said Aga
tina, curtly. but YOU men who write
are more like pigs than human be,
| ings. Just look at the dust en- tha,
| desk; it's shameful. And Sarah saws
YOU won't itt her touch your papers
| I'm ashamed of having such dirty
hole i'm my house; I'll come and dust il
| myself tomorrow"
| At these Words Arbuthnot lost his
| philosophical Self-ContrOl.
| II must ask you not to touch the
| papers on my desk," he said hastily
| Il allow Sarah to brush md dust ev.
| erything in the room bat my desk. and
| that l attend to myself"
'Of course, you lily at my throat
when I offer to do anything for you
| said Agatha angrly, letting her hand
fall on the desk and cTumpling several
| loose sheets together Il can't speaI
TO You but what I DO wrong. That
| comes of marrying a genius! You'ra
enough To make any woman want tC
| drown herself"
81 beg your pardon if / spoke hast.
| ily," said Arbuthnot, ruefullv contem.
lDNic~n0I PINNI