The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1900-10-01
His Life's Work.

DOOkS OI TeIeTeHCe, SAT IL IibII
n busily engaged in writing. Be.
~ tween 80 and 40, he looked even
more, for his hair was already
we'll tinged with gray. and his fore
head heavily lined. 1t was a powerful
face, the features large. the jaw prom
inent and the eyes somewhat sunk-the
face of thinker The room, too, was
in keeping with the appearance Of the
man. Lined with shelves on which
massive looking books were tightly
packed. even the chairs and part of the
floor space covered with portfolios Of
manuscript 1t was the abode OF a man
OF learning-the den of brain worker.
A. shaft of light from the window
fell on the man bent over his task. He
wrote quickly. now and again pausing
to consult a notebook. then, Fastening
on again. There was no cessation, no
wandering for a single instant of his
thoughts
Presently there was a tap at the
door, and a man servant entered.
"Sir Roland Huth, sir" he an
nounced.
The man at the desk gave a start as
the servants words fell on his ears.
The current Of his thoughts was brok-
en-. Before he had time to lay down
his pen smart-looking, well-dressed
little man Of about 40 hustled into the
room.
II know I'm interrupting-dreadfu
nuisance. and all that kind Of thing,
Geoffrey,' he said briskly, "but frank
ly-I don't care If am"
A slight smile crossed Geoffrey Muir
rays face as lie took his friends hand.
"You certainly have the knack Of
disturbing me in my most precious
moments" he replied. What is 1t
now?" he asked. as Sir Roland settled
himself in a chair.
II want to know what the devil you
mean by sending refusal to my in
vitation for tomorrow" said the little
man carefully polishing his eyeglass.
my dear Huth, you know never go
anywhere now He glanced at the
paper-littered desk. II can't spare the
time. But Nora is going-at least
understood that she was," he added
vaguely. He turned and fingered his
papers, as If impatient to go on with
the work again.
But Sir Roland had no intention Of
going. He fixed his eyeglass and
stared at Murray thoughtfully.
1--WE known you for great many
years, Godfrey" he begun, twenty
five. is 1t, or thirty?"
Murray swung around.
You're my oldest friend-of course
you are. But,"--he paused inqiringly.
"Well, I merely want to say you're
fool" replied Sir Roland calmly. land
rather bad fool, too," he added, rls-
ing from his seat.
"You marry girl some Is years your
Junior. She was your ward. and 1t
saved trouble to become her husband
rather than look after her. Now, what
do you suppose Is her feeling toward
you?"
"My dear Huth, she loves me-" be-
gan Murray.
did love you!" corrected Sir Roland.
Murray gave start.
"What on earth are you talking
about?"
Simply that you are doing your best
to stamp out every bit of affection
Nora ever had for you. Remember she
is girl-a bright. pretty girl, and
that she wants love. And what do you
give her? You shut yourself up here,
spend every moment grinding away at
your monumental book, do and think
of nothing else"
A flash of enthusiasm lighted up
Murray's face.
Its my life work." he cried.
"Your life's work." replied Sir Ro-
land contemptuously. what is it? A
book read by few with minds similar
to your own! You should never have
married sweet young girl, if this
was to have been the one object of
your existence. To make her radiant
ly happy, to give her love, to gain hers
in return, that is your real life's work"
"She has her own interests-her art"
Her art! cried Sir Roland. "She
took it up simply because you neglected
her. She worked at it feverishly-
simply because you took not a shred
of interest in her life. She has put her
whole being into a picture simply be.
cause it makes her forget-stifles the
pain at her hearth
Murray pulled himself together to
speak. but Sir Roland was excited and
silenced him with a gesture.
But 1t can't last! Even the passion
for her art won't suffice. A girl like
Nora must have love. 1t is natural-it
is right. And If you won't give it her,
IL you don't deserve it!' finished Sir
Roland hotely. as he picked up his hat
and gloves and moved to the door.
Murray sat motionless at his desk
for some minutes after his friends
departure. He wanted to continue his
work, but he could not concentrate his
thoughts. Sir Rolands words We're
ringing in his ears. He flung down
the pen and strode restlessly up and
down the room. Was there anything
in what Huth had said? He set him
self to think the whole thing out. He
went back to the time when they were
to set aside hours to spend with her.
He considered them his recreation, and
the sound Of her happy laugh, the ring
of her voice, was pure joy to him.
And he laughed, too, in those day.
Then as time went on and the great
work was started, these hours grew
less and less He had no recreation.
He abandoned himself, body and SOUL
to his great tosk. He only met her at
meals-hardly spoke then. his mind
completely wrapped up in the work he
had left for few minutes, Gradually
they had drifted apart. She took up
art, worked feverishly at 1t, but he,
her husband, had taken not the slight
est interest in it-never spoke of it. had
not even seen single picture she had
painted.
All these things he realized for the
first time. He flung open the door of
his room and crossed the passage that