The Montgomery advertiser., 1901-11-29
THE LITERAL PROPOSAL.
BY D. IT. TALMADGE.

one of his antagonists while he was en- gagged in staying the initial nineteen! Srpposers may apply to Mir. Meredith If they would learn of something to their advantage. My hero Is to appear suc- cessfully at every crisis which arises in into being when the heroine, sweetl, faltering, confessed her love to him. tSee chapter two) honestly. do you not rather like the ideaT'
 Yes, l do. The girl was frank. Pros ceed, please
 Well, chauter five is to round up with a stunning pudding, prepared by the heroines white hands, and dazzling Chapter six leads us again into the shad- ow. The vfllainy of the comber of lawns and horses develops itself. and the fabric of domestic peace is rent and torn once more. The comber of lawns and horses has expressed himself at divers times with much feeling to the hero upon the subject to strong drink. He has sworn grest oaths as to his utter teetotalism. And the hero. as heroes invariably do at certain stages of story. reposes con f1dence in him. The heroine, it may be stated, is a radical temperance woman"
 Good for her!" murmured the girl
 And she has extracted a promise from the hero that never will he indulge his propensity for strong waters anywhere except at his own board. Her method diners, you will observe, from that of certain other radical temperance women, who refuse to permit liquor in the house, bad cohpany.'
 Decidedly She is sensible.
 "In this she differs from other hero ines I might mention. It is very bold rule, does not take to sensible heroines. And not only Is she sensible, but she Is beautiful All the graces are in her combined; the art of witchery and the of y,nfp tr1n
 She has imperfections?"
 Of course, being human; but they serve to bring into greater relief the lovable. entrancing qualities of her char acter. In this chapter she discovers bottle of cheap whiskey in, the pocket of the hero's top-coat. The bottle Is wrap ped in piece of newspaper. containing a marked reference to a certain dis reputable female who has recently scored a hit as songster and dancer at a certain disreputable place of enter tainment. The discovery shocks the he- roine dreadfully. A mighty wave of sor- privacy of her chamber she weeps and takes on; but fin the presence of the hero she forces her wit and her laughter, thinking she may deceive him. Her con- wives have suffered similarly. It Is a wholesome experience, but extremely painful and just a wee bit dangerous. The hero observes her distrait manner, however, he sees the marks or sorrow In her eyes: he notes the discordant ring in her voice; and he is much troubled in spirit. At last he asks her to tell him what he has done to offend her. and she permits, her anger to blaze forth. Her anger is magnificent. She accuses him of doublt-dealing; of falseness to his VOWS. She makes a spectacle of herself, striding back and forth between the piano and the front door, raving like a queen of tragedy. But what have I done?' he repeats in bewilderment "You know" she replies like an ordinary wO- man, you know" T do not" he as- severates, and drops to the couch, rest ing his head upon his arms. The atti- plating him. Her tone changes to that of woman saddened beyond reparation, but who still loves; and she confronts him with the evidence of his perfidy. stage, and cuts a fine figure. He up- braids her gently for her lack of conf1- dence. The heroine Is crushed. My darling" he says in milder tone than she deserves, you are laboring under a delusion. I see it all plainly. My top coat was left in the carriage, and that vile wretch, the comber of lawns and horses, wore it. He alone is responsible for the agony you have endured. He has deceived me. l shall have my revenge" He bolts from the room, and the heroine follows, ,wringing her hands. The chap ter concludes with stupendous combat
 
 which the villain is finally chased into a corner and roundly kicked. After which the hero limps back to the bower of bliss, the heroine clinging to his arms and looking up into his flushed face with eyes that dim the sunshine by the lustre of their loving admiration"
 The girl might have been expected to laugh at this juncture, but for some req sion had come upon her face. and her eyelids dropped. Do you really think" she asked after an interval, that all wives question at times the sincerity of their husbands affection?'
 T have been told that such is the case" replied Lionel, "by men who should know. They have referred to 1t as the only introconvertible evidence of to an insufferable idiot the man who at- tempts an explanation under such cir cumstances. Woman's nature, they say but pass that. My hero explains, not you not consider him a hero worth while?"
 The girl hesitated. "He--he is almost too good to be true" she said. "He seems to combine quite happily the every dayness of the realistic sort with the hard-to-swallowness of the romantic He should win, I think. But how, may I ask. do you propose to sustain the inter- est of the story to the end of the book?"
 By the triumph of true love at the end of every chapter" replied Lionel, promptly by alternating the weakness of the heroine with the strength of the hero, and the weakness of the hero with the strength of the heroine. I want you to help me bit with the-with the he- roine."
 What sort of a house do they live in?' inquired the girl abruptly. You should describe the house in the very beginning of their married life"
 'I thought we had better arrange that together" Lionel's land left the arm of the chair and rested lightly upon the girls hand. You see.' he went on hastily, it would be ever so much more desirab for the heroine to have a voice in the planning of the house. The hero does not really care about such things. He guages everything by price. He"
 But the hero Is not planning the house; you are doing that"
 Yves, | know, but"-Lionel was foundering-"do you not see, dear? You are the heroine-to be-if you will"
 The sheets upon which was written the first chapter of the story fluttered in confusion to the floor. The hand of Lionel frightened it's clasp.
 You must, dear" he whispered. 'for the sake of literature-for the sake of my book. Refuse, and swear that noth- ing shall prevent me from publishing It."
 The girl shuddered slightly, then lifted her eyes to his. She said nothing. Words are puny, pitiable things at such a time. by Mary King Emory.