Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1900-07-28
AN INHERITANCE.
oA..nA...AN...AA.. - =. 80
By Charlotte Teller.

4
! about his mouth and studied his brow
and nose. Suddenly she sat up. pushing
/ back the red hood Of her cape "Do you
4 know" she broke in. mo one is really in
! teresting unless he has suffered?
The reader lost his place and said with
some amusement: Where were your
thoughts? Don't you realize that the
heroine is just enjoying a psychological
momentF'
Pm not at all interested ia the hero
| inc; besides, she's morbid. / am much
interested in you''-she pulled her cape
about her and leaned back-'but | can't
interpret the lines ia your face at all. !"
That's strange" he laughed. Three
days out from Cherbourg and still mystic
rious. Do YOU always probe for secrets
So quickly?"
There was suspicion of sarcasm in
his voice.
Il beg your pardon" she said, hitting
her eyes follow the steward with the aft
ernoon coffee. I'm not probing for Sc
crets. Ii / were, i should be more skill
full"
He leaned over in half apology.
II am not vain enough to think that
you have more than a literary interest
in the lines of my face. You are psy-
Geological vivisectionist, purely scientific
with only a trace of sympathy for the
case in hand. But do not look always for
suffering. There is little of it in the
world. Men are fools when they say
they suffer-"
The tone of hardness in his voice
reused her TO contradiction, but the look
in his eyes kept her words back. Instead
of speaking she threw off her rug and
walked to the side of the deck, looking
down on the Storage. He joined her in
apparent forgetfulness of their CONVERSE
ton.
1.-The dead black of that woman's hair
against orange"--he pointed to a woman
below them, dipping her black bread into
a mug of tea-'wouldn't that be effective
in pastel?"
"But you couldn't get those eyes. l
should do the whole figure in clay, letting
the tragedy come out in the pose of the
head and in the lines Of the hands"
She spoke meditatively, without asser-
ton.
That's good" he answered, but you
would need a bit of horizon, or at least a
deck rail And why is the turned
with the impotence Of a man who leaves
tragedy to novelists--that you invaria-
bly, see the pathetic side of eyerythingY
She was puzzled again by the line in
his lower lip. Was it hardness or repres-
sion?
Can you see anything but tragedy
down there? Look ut that old woman
reading her Talmud and wiping her
tears on that dingy apron and that wom-
an. with the sick baby-she must have
been pretty once-and all of them. How
terribly homesiek they must be-"
The man shrugged his shoulders.
Come let us leave. them; they're hap
py If they are homesick, that is senti-
mentality, for they have the waters un-
der them and the sky overhead. If it
were all black emptiness, then He
stopped. and then said, more gently;
Don't you want TO walk? You ought
not even to think of the troubles of the
verdi
AS they turned the wind blew back her
cape. and the red of it hlotted the gray OF
his coat. They paced back and forth, be
with a swinging gait and she putting her
heels down first. They were both quiet,
only nodding to- the others who walked
round and round the deck. She falt
strangely oppressed. After a few mo-
ments he stopped beside their chairs.
The band plays the Sunday service
about this tine on the other side" he
said, land wa'd better sit down before
some one else gets these places"
He covered her with a rug and leaned
hack, with las eyes on the far horizon.
She watched, the tired look III his eyes
fade out.
Then the chords of a German choral
sounded on into the glare of Sunlight;
they seemed to push the brightness aside
and to call the darkness to arise rrOm the
depths of the sea. The girl closed her
eyes a mcment to briag the sound nearer.
When she opened them, about TO ask the
name of the choral. the mans eyes. full
/ fixed on the distant line of sky, kept her
! still; they were filled with an awful
! dread, with a reprt ssesl wiidpess o. fear,
and tAcy had drawn ali the ceior fr0m his
! face until Il had become Il dead white
! AS the music eaIue to its sOmber close
/ he TUNED toward her and she beat over
and touched his band.
| Il am sorry. r. She, could not say
more.. and the voice rouseJ him.
- am afraid now thar you viii think
You have discovered q tragedy In me-
His voice was low. and its torres press
ed back the tears in her heart, Tier hand,
| lylac on his. grew coid, and he put his
otIor one OEei it,
"Child, you are making it a little hard
er for me. and yet | am glad a mist
was sweeping between them, and he 6an-
ed forward Il have JUST come from q
physician who has told me that IN few
months my mind will 90 out iuro the
great darkness. Ny father, and lis ia
Their before him became insane but
had had such faith in my OWN strength
And cannot escape"
For moment she was stitf, then she
freed her hand from his and drew his
head down to her shoulder.
Miles around there was ehe twitcbip9
of blue waves under a white mist veil
aud all that lived-all that was human-
was dimmed and softened-Chicago Trib
une.
The Absentminded Man.
An absentminded minister Of Mana
ynnk, Pa tells this story on himself: 81
- oyn &c a Yox,. of bpipE hpuSaS TN