The suburban citizen., 1900-09-15
A Woman S Wisdom

7 ANDOR was at his desk,
r. which was near the open
|, window. The window
looked down on the ponder
Gus, overwhelming traffic Of South
Water street. The grinding Of huge
wheels, the crashing of machinery
the clatter of hoof beats, the rattle OF
harness, the jaTing of merchandise
the hOarse voices of porters and driv-
ers, all rose in one mighty, mingled
roar-a veritable below Of CONNER
cial prosperity.
Landor did not notice the turmoil
He had become accustomed to it many
months ago. He was absorbed-but
not in his work. The minute hand had
crawled quite around the dial of the
big clock in the corner since he had
| formed a figure on the ledger lying
! open before him. But he had been
writing. His gaze dropped to the page
upon his desk AS he scanned the
verse lie had written, his eyes took
on the mingled dreaminess and spar
kle one sees only in the orbs Of a
poet.
He drew from his desk little glove,
pearl covered and perfumed. There
was inspiration in the sight, the scent,
| the touch of ib He laid it gently
I back, seized his pen, and began on
another stanZa.
A brown hand reached over his
| shoulder A couple of letters fell on
/ the open ledger. One-the one in the
! firm, characteristic feminine hand he
had come to know-he tore open with
fingers that were clumsy through
haste Two-four closely written
| pages! Her notes to him heretofore
had been of almost telegraphic brev-
! ity. he plunged into the first page
| had all but read it through indeed,
before he paused-jerked back his
head as though he had received a
| shock.
The letter had not been intended for
| him! But 1t was of him. There was
his name-his name in the writing Of
the woman he loved-to whom he had
not dared to speak unless in sweet,
wild verses which she never beheld.
He had read so far unwittingly; he
must now read the rest. After what
he had ignorantly learned he must
now learn more. 1t meant life and
all that life held for him-the words
which were traced on the next page
life and love, or bitter and enduring
disappointment!
'My Dear Friend-When you asked
me lately if Landor Aldrich should
do me the honor to ask me to be his
wife-would l marry him-I gave you
no reply. l will tell you now. fear
your opinion should be lightly formed.
/ dread lest you think me guilty Of
vulgar caprice-I viii be quite frank.
think he does care for me. And
| L"
There the page ended.
! The dreaminess was gone from his
eyes now. There was a red light in
them. He dug his nails into his palms
until the fierce pressure panied.
He turned the page. He read on.
well; I've never worn my heart
on my sleeve, Eloise. can't do it
now. But you may draw from my
silence what inference you will"
"A1r. Aldrichp He looked up. He
was trembling like n leaf. about
that special shipment to the Philip
| pines, sir"
''Yes-no! l don't know. Ask the ele-
vator boy" he muttered, not compre-
hending, and again bent over the fate
/ ful page. The man shrugged his shoul-
ders, walked away. Landor read on:
you spokeof his charming personality
his rare gifts Of mind and spirit
Who should appreciate these more
than !, who have known him so well?
That one Of such social standing, ap-
pearance and hereditary wealth should
have singled me out from among many
girls who admire him, has fattered
me, indeed. But should he say the
words every woman wants to hear
once from a man, l must answer
No"
There was a mufIled cry. The let
ter was crumpled in fierce fingers.
Then he lifted his bowed head,
smOothed out the page and read on:
This, my friend, is why. He is not
proving himself. He is an idler-a
dreamer With every avenue Of sue
cess stretching broad and fair before
him, he is content to pass hours oc-
cupying a purely nominal position in
his fathers office. He leads the cot
illion well-none better In all mat
ters Of dilettantelsm his taste is cul-
tured and fine. And he writes the