Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1901-03-29
sward, its flower beds outlined with

old summer house-that she had told
Everett Harper she could never be his
wife.
my work is mapped out for me-"
she had said. Il have been scribbling
an my life. / want to be a writer.
/ shall not be content with little
success. l must become famous. And
/ shall. I've been reading great
deal about the women who have sue
ceeded They almost all went to
cities. Many worked hard for time
on newspapers. / can do i'll know
l can. It's my destiny!"
"But you cannot go to the city
alone, dear heart!" he cried, aghast.
He uid not like her sad name of Do
lores, and seldom called her by it.
Besides, this whim-"
ut is no whim!" she lad fared out.
ut is the work | am bern to do-the
work am fitted to do. Now that
my mother is dead, and brother Rob
and his wife are running the place,
I'm only in the way. No one will miss
me If l go"
mo one!" he had said, passionate
ly. "Oh, love-my Lowell" Huskiness
caught him strangely. She only no.
ticed what an ugly tie he wore.
"You won't care after awhile. Per-
haps you don't care now. Perhaps
you only think you care!"
"Dolores!" he said. in a tone she
had never heard him use before.
She had always been her own mis-
tress. She had lived in books. She
had exaggerated ideas of the facility
with which~one, imaginative, although
unframed might earn living by lit
erary work. And she did not dream
that in such work experienced medioc-
rity counts for more than crude. .un-
| polished talent.
II don't mean to hurt you, Everett,
but l must succeed-I must! / know
what a pleasant home you have to
offer the woman you marry, anu how
hard you have worked to gain 1t.
know how good you are, and il it
were not that l must work out my
destiny"
II shall watt" declared the young
farmer, grimly. 81 shall wait-al.
ways. And IL all should not be as
You fancy-if things go wrong"
Nothing will go wrong!" She
was sufficiently youthful and pretty
in those days to be arrogant without
arousing resentment. Nothing! /
will succeed"
For awhile she had almost gloried
in her rebuffs-in her disappoint.
ments. Those who had won recogni.
ton had had to bear the neat and
fardel Of the day. Her education was
better than that of many Of the wom-
en- she met whose work was remuner-
ative. She had health. Enthusiasm
that most inspiring stimulant-was
hers. And she worried hard
But this was the end of It all-fail.
ure. Something she had missed
what, she did not know. Lack of her.
editary taste, the privilege of "stum-
bling against books in babyhood," as
Emerson asserted he had done, or the
absence of congenial companionship
during young life of rural isolation
at all events her poems were not
printed, her critical articles came
back, envelopes ominously thick con-
tinued to meet her with satiric sill
ence, and publishers made suave and
insufficient excuses for the return of
her laboriously written manuscripts.
She could not-she would not go
home. Besides, she had the vial in
the glazed red paper. Her grip tight
ened on it when she again recalled
the asters and the marigolds in the
triangular bed near the summer
house. The summer house where
Dear hearth" cried voice. as 1t
really you'll"
The intersection of Adams ard State
streets was crowded. She turned
with start. The bottle fell from her
hand. 1t shivered into hundred
fragments on the sidewalk. A pun.
gent, penetrating odor arose. Shak.
ing, the girl looked into the kind
eager face of her old lover!
"Dolores What lucky chance!
have looked for you every year / came
to town to sell my cattle. But you
had hidden yourself too well. How
thin you are-hov- changed. You
have been sick-you are sick!"
There was roaring in her ears
She put out her hand blindly. 1t was
grasped in good, tight, hard clasp
the kind Of grip that steadies heart
and brain.
my poor girl! The fight is too
hard for you! Conceive must get
away from this crush. What stuff
was in that bottle--carbolic acid
: Phew! how it smells! Thereby
quieter here. Walk slowly. Lean OF
. me. You're feeling better now?"
The protecting presence. the ex
preston Of anxious solicitude, tn,
/, brooding tenderness of the familiar
voice brought to her in an instant /,
I