Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1900-10-25

he got out fresh pencil end sharpen
ed it properly.
He wrote the title, Justice to
Dixon" almost unconsciously and
then shuddered at the grim truth and
glazing improperly of it. Hastily he
tore up the paper and began on fresh
sheet. He need not bother about a
title anyway. Helmuth would attend
to that. He would concentrate his
whole effort upon the subject matter.
He could recall so many little anec-
dotes which showed the lovable nature
of the man; SO many bright sayings
that were trifies in themselves but all
told for noble living. They would
make the picture more vivid and life
like. Dixon's friends should see the
grandeur of the man, as perhaps they
had failed to see it in his lifetime, for
they had had him at too close range.
1t was no ordinary obituary that
Wainwright was making. A trans
formation had come over him. His
face was pale; his eyes blazed; his
breath was short. He had become an
artist in love with his theme, and IL
was part of his soul he was giving to
Dixon. He worked as if his whole
previous training had been to this end
He criticised, condemned, revised, as If
he we're some one entirely apart from
his creation, an impartial judge.
When the article was finished he
realized that he had done far more
than write sketch OF Dixon. Within
the short limits or Hcwspaper require
ments he had produced a mastery
work of art, and he felt strange ex-
ultation as he handed in his copy and
went home. He had not known before
that he was clever. He scarcely could
believe it now. By morning he began
to wonder IL his work really were so
good as it had seemed the night before
He hurried down to the office, buying a
paper on the way, but was too nervous
to read it.
Wainwright, l say" Holmuth greet
| ed him huskily, forgive me, but
didn't know you could do anything so
fine. l was even mean enough to re-
member, after gave you the assign
ment, that l had thought you were
jealous of Dixon and to wonder If his
memory would not fare better in other
hands"
Helmuth openly wiped his eyes.
Forgive me-" he repeated, 1--WE all feel
that way about Dixon, the way you do;
but there is not another man on the
force who could have said it as you
have" And one by one the others, as
they met Wainwright, wrung his hand.
Presently people began to condole
with him on the loss of Dixon. They
feared that the anxiety he had suffered
during Dixon's long illness, and grief
over the bereavement had undermined
his health. They urged him to try
change of scene and said they hoped
that some timo Dixon would know
what a friend he was. Wainwright
begaI- to dread outstretched hands and
looks of sympathy. He felt that he
was living lie. and let how unspeak-
ably brutal it would be to tell the
truth.
The only consolation he found was a
new sweetness In Elaine Pierpont's
manner. The possibility of failure to
win her was something he had not
permitted himself to contemplate since
Dixon's death; but this added gentle
ness gave him encouragement and
+, certain degree of peace.
He would tell her all about it some
time. She would forgive and pity.
She must forgive, because it was love
for her that made him hate Dixon.
Besides, 1t was not Dixon the man,
that he hated, but Dixon the obstacle.
| He loved her so intensely that 1t must
atone for everything, and in imagina-
ton he felt her arms around his neck
and her cheek pressed to his in SYM
pathy.
In imagination ii was easy to tell
her his love and to ask for hers that
torrent of fiery words fairly choked
him. In reality 1t was so hard that he
finally wrote it and then waited
feverishly for her reply. 1t was ages
coming, he thought. though really it
could have come no sooner. Dear
Mr.. Wainwright Why didn't she
call me Hal?" he wondered, with
vague dread.
Dear Mr.. Wainwright--If Bertrand
Dixon had lived probably should
have been your wife. Whether 1t
W .uld have proved B mistake or not,
of course we shall never know. IL
loved him | did not realize it. He
asked me to be his wife and | refused
him. l refused on your account, be-
cause l hoped that some time you
would tell me that which you have
was only that. so long as l knew of no
one else possessing your affection.
could not help cherishing little hope.
Now that the letter l used to long for
has come Il touches me deeply. but nc.