Connecticut western news., 1900-06-14
"A PUFF
 OF WIND And What It Did For a Husband.
BY ". R. ROSE

latchkey and let himself In. 1t was blowing hard outside, and as he held the door ajar puff of wind rushed in. It was a strong capful, and 1t swayed the curtains and fiuttered the long leaves of the hardy palm in the parlor archway. Then 1t caught up a bit of note paper that lay on the little table in the hall and whirled 1t away be- heath the bookcase in the corner. The man who was entering did not see this hutterfng note. He shut the door quick ly and turned about.
 Nellie! Oh, Nellie! Where the deuce can she be2" he muttered. Never left me like this before. What did she take with herT He opened the clothes closet off the bedroom and looked at her garments hanging in an orderly row. He let his hand fall lovingly on the familiar folds and pass down them with a gently smoothing pressure. Her dresses seemed 80 eloquent of her pres ence. Was she hiding behind these dangling frocks? He poked his way Into the closet, up one side and back on the other, but no Nellie was concealed within Its limited area.
 "Funnyw he muttered again. Seems to be gone without word. Wonder what she did with her jewelryY' He thought he knew where she hid it away, but he didn't. At least it wasn't there.
 May have taken 1t with her," he murmured and stopped short The idea was an ugly one. You're fool, John Austinr' he said and scowled at himself In the glass.
 There was pleasant aroma arising from the interior of the dresser. It seemed part of her. There were two of her hairpins lying on the dresser top. He picked them up carefully and laid them on the little china dish where dozen or more of their brothers were stretched at length. Her old shoes lay beside her low sewing chair, small and slim. He knew she had gone in hur ry. She would never have left this mark of untidiness If she hadn't been pressed for time. But what could have drawn her away from home so sud- denly7
 John Austin was not a thoroughly well man. He had worked too hard; he was nervous and irritable. Evening after evening he had come home and unloaded into his wife's keeping as much as he could of his burden of daily vexations. For the first time in their IS months of married bliss his wife had left him without word of warn Ing.
 He came slowly down the stairway and dropped himself into big chair in the library. His eye wandered about the apartment. It was growing dusky outside, and the books about him were dim and misty. He shook his fist in a sudden fit of frenzy at the tiers of vol umes.
 She's been reading harmful books" he sputtered; 'Ibsen and Maeterlink. and who knows what all? They are dangerous and degrading. They cor rupt the soundest mind with their pes simistic sophistries. Whats this?" He picked up a newspaper clipping from the table and, lighting the gas, read 1t aloud:
 "The souls of women knock some times at the bars of convention, of tra- dition, of marriage, and clamor for freedom-even If 1t be the briefest of respites. Sometimes when they least expect 1t the desire to fly grows strong upon them and they are ready to throw down all that Is at hand and strike out boldly in the direction of the turing voice. Who can blame them? Do you blame the captive brutes in the arena for beating their breasts sore against the cruel bars that cut them of from the delights of liberty? Woman has the same Instinct. It flares out at times when least expected, and the woman goes forth heart hungry and longing, too, for that blessed boon that
 men call-and monopolize-freedom." John threw the clipping down. Absolute rot" he snarled. Then be quickly said, And she must have been reading 1t just before she started out. " His voice sank on the last words, then l he briskly added: Don't be a fool, John. Everything will come out all right. You know 1t will. Here you are worrying over what Is probobly a | trivial incident. Be man." Nevertheless his hand trembled when he picked up the obnoxious clipping
 and tossed 1t into the wastebasket. He leaned back in his chair and, talk ing out cigar. lighted and smoked 1t He thought of the first time he saw Nellie, of how little he imagined she | would become so dear to him, of the | gradual growth of love, of the day he asked her to be his wife. Queer that he | had never gone over the romance be him. And this was the first time he had
 recalled 1t. He had been too busy to | think of such trifies. Trifesl Toe busy to think of aught save his owr plans and hopes and ambitions. Had
 his wife DO hopes and plans-no ambi-
 tions? Was her life so indissolubly
 linked with his that she was individu- ally effaced? He had never asked him.
 self this question before. 1t was time
 1t was asked. How supremely selfish he had been, He had never recognized
 the fact until now. He passed his hand wearily over his forehead. He wasn't | well. He had the blues. He needed a | DIdCcE I1e "tuL u lIG Slut- board and poured out a half tumbler- | full of whisky in the little glass. He
 picked 1t up. Then he pushed 1t back.
 It seemed cowardly. Why should he
 be afraid of his thoughts? He remem-
 bered, too, how responsibility she al
 ways looked at him when he drank.
 He knew 1t was a temptation that he
 ought to avoid. And yet her reproach-
 full glances never stopped him. He
 would laugh at her and drink in spir-
 1t of bravado.
 He went back to the big chair in the
 library. What confounded disagree | able companions a mans thoughts
 were! They came uninvited and they
 didn't have the grace to leave when
 they found they were not welcome