Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1900-03-08
! a Narrow Escape

II
j name which had been carried like
banner above the commerce of the CITY
was down. It was dragging in the dust.
arthur Wilkinson, last of his line. heir
70 MS fathers fortune and responsible
tues, who had made a mucker of af-
lalrs too large and far reaching for him
TO manage, attained the conclusion tina,
the simplest thing for him to do was
to put a sharp quietus to a life whose
energies had evidently been misapplied.
Ihere were, of course, complications.
Ihere always are. To begin with, there
was Wlnnlfred Inderrierden. He had ex-
pected to marry her-they had, in fact,
had an unusual col5.tship, the particu-
lars OF which r would be d pleasure to
relate, If there were time. Which there
IS not. lie knew what her expectations
were. She had always been surround
ed by luxuries. It would hardly occur
to her that there could be any other
eondltions-for Winnifred Inderrier-
Gen. She loved him, he thought, but
after all, it had been love that fed
On the beautiful and on the luxurious.
They had usually met in the evening,
she eNquisitely attired and in her best
mood, he eager for the diversion which
her vivacity afforded him, and the de-
light which her loneliness gave. They
had eaten in the stately Inderrierden
d1nlng-room together. They had driven
abroad on the boulevard at the gayest
hour, IN the most fetching of carts; they
knew the opera together and the or
chestral concerts. Their love had ''fed
on the roses and lain in the lilies of
life. How would it weather storms of
poverty and self-denial and social OBJ
Ivlon? The simplest way out of his
oltncultles, Arthur Wilkinson assured
himself again, was to make the sharp
quietus.
Why could he not stop thinking. hav-
ing made his resolution? Why must he
remember these hideous details that
brought the blood in hot rush to his
jaded face? Why must he recollect
old Efinger, for 20 years the manager
OF the house, whose careful savings
had gone up with the rest? Effinger
Impoverished, and in his old age, and
because of the fatuous folly of an in
competent ass who lacked the ability
to run concern himself, and who had
not the sense to ask advice of his
elders!
There were other things which were
no less distressing to remember. There
were the men and women who had
counted on steady employment from
nS u-h
reason to suppose that their vocation
for life was fixed. He knew some of
the young men who had married upon
this superstition, men who had been
his friends for years, and who trusted
him entirely. He was, unfortunately
for his peace of mind, acquainted with
the private life of many of his en-
ployes. He knew what their RESPONSE
biities were. He thought of Maggie
O'Neill, who cared for five brothers
and sisters and who had no one to help
her in the fight-patient Maggie, whose
eyes had always looked into his with
frank goodwill and gratitude.
He calmly set date for his decisive
act, and counted the days with some
thing like anticipation. The burden
of chagrin and regret upon him was so
heavy that the thought of rest was
heavenly indeed. He had no doubt.
he told himself, that the grave meant
absolute oblivion. When that ingenious
piece of workman ship, the brain,
nothing-no knowledge, no fears, no
joys. Oblivion was best. Still, what
if his reckonings were wrong? What
if he found himself plunged yet more
irretrievably into sea Of remorse?
What if-but what childish folly. The
grave was the grave. It was the Pc
Rod. When one achieved death, one
wrote ''fnis."
This is the day of nay release
said he. and the heart which had
dragged at him till it seemed an IN
supportable physical burden was
eased a trife. He fingered long over
his bath and took note of all the COM
forts he enjoyed in his pleasant rooms.
Then he made an inventory of the
furniture and bric-a-brac and laid it
where it could be easily found. he
took his watch, which had been gift
from his father, pawned it for all that
it would bring, and sent the money to
Maggie O'Neill, giving her no hint of
the donor. He wrote a note of abject
apology to poor old Efinger-an apol-
ogy such as a dying man writes to
one he has ruined. Then he called on
Winnifred Inderrierden.
It was late afternoon and she was
receiving. so when he went in he
found her with many others.
rs there no hope that can see you
alone for moment?' he managed to
say, getting close to her at the tea
table. She looked up smilingly.
I'm afraid not, Art. What made
you so stupid as to come to-day!
Don't you remember that Thurs
days"
81 haven't been remembering any
thing very well recently" he said. and
moved away.
aBut you are coming bacl?" she
called. He shook his head, bowed
tremendously to the ladies near him,