The Washington times., 1901-07-07

insignificant to remenaher What is more,
/ never wanted anything that journalism
could give me as much as | want YOU
and that is saying more than you can ap-
preciate now. Journalism in New York is
! like a concert of Europe; a combination of
| superficial resemblaiTcas in thought and
| motives ard of watchful hatred Come.
| l4nt us go back. ots'
She kept her room for two days. Her
frs instinct had been for precipitate
| flight for she was terrified. Her only rea-
| son for dismissing theiidea was the assur-
| ance that Bridges would follow her There
was no getting the best OF a man like that
! except by standing up to him. Her uncle
had told her that he was the greatest
! tyrant in American journalism. that the
! Eye" reporters heId him in terror, al
J though they appreciated the advantage of
working for a master mind that saved
! them much thinking. He loved her, of
course; but she was no queen to him; he
was too hard and practical, too self-cen-
tired and ambitious, to spend his life on
! the steps of a throne She resented this
attitude with all the accumulated arro-
gance of long years of easy conquests.
! Then she reflected that, by all the laws of
romance she should be madly in love with
| this masterful being, whom she could not
trouble to propose to her, and v ho doomed
before her six feet one and as sure as
| fate. But she was a woman of high and
rather romantic ideals Not only did the
distorted modernism of Bridges horrify
her judgment. but he was no romantic,
gloomy, stalking hero of a German novel;
he was a spick-and-span New York jour
nalist, as unpictureSque as he was bril-
liant He did not appeal TO her imagi-
nation in the least. She knew by this time
exactly in what his fascination consisted;
his virile brain and his physical magnet
ism. Did she marry him she must deteri-
crate, for before the ceremony she would
have cast out her ideals for ever; and in
time she would accustom herself imper-
ceptibly to a revised depleted and cold
blooded edition of human nature. Doubt
less she would also develop a news
serse," and rejoice in the tragedies that
arranged themselves for the benefit of the
Unsuitable press; no woman could live with
a man like that and not come to resemble
him. Still, life with him would indubi-
tably be interesting. She had far more
brain than she had ever permitted her
adorers to discover. and to experiment
ideals.
She kept her room because she wished to
consider the question in all its aspects,
and arrive at q definite conclusion before
she met him again; and if she did make
up her mind to let him go he would find
that her viii was as strong as his.
During these two days she received no
message from him, neither did she see
him on the adjoining terrace of the house
where he was now guest. At the close
of the second day her eyes had ceased tc
long for a sight Of him, and she fervently
hoped that he had been called to New
York. She wrote as follows in the little
volume which boIe his name:
u am sure now that 1t Is a pure ques-
II npTEAnnl IA
on my mind invariably reeedes with the
accumulation of hours between us. That
means that | have no sentiment for him, =
for If | had / should love him more when
We were parted. Intellectual attraction
and passion do not make up the whole Of
love. ] have now decided once for all. 1
viii not marry him.. j have premonition
that the wrench viii be, harder than | an
tcipate at present-uy5 brain feels worn
out just now-and tIat-I shall be on the
point of sending for him again and again;
if | don't love him / am closer to love
than I've been befores because he has
awakened fully twc-thirds Of me. But 1
should be worse than a fool If l delib-
erately put out the light that has steadily
grown in my brain. and which I have so
carefully tended. IL wait long enough |
shall find everything; or If | do not. bet
ter thousand times TO live alone with
ones ideals"
When she closed the book she felt calm
er than she had for months. She was sad
and discouraged, and 5longed to be at
There was a. bah that night, and she was
engaged for every dance II would be
cowardly to excuse herself further, al
though she would have been glad to go to |
bed; she was worn out with the nervous
tumult of the past two days. and she had |
eaten little and been in the open air not
at all. She would have slipped out late |
in the afternoon for a walk, but the wind I!
was blowing gale and the skies threat |
ened rain every moment. The house !
where the ball was to be was on cliff |
let
during the drive there she managed 10 as
certain that Maynard Bridges was still in |
Bar Harbor.
She was surrounded as soon as she en- |
Bridges was not present, nor did he ap- |
pear later. The ballroom overlooked the |
water, and although the widows were
closed to keep out the wind and rain, she |
could hear the roar Of the ocean high |
above the music. 1t suggested the fatal |
shipwreck to her mind, and at the same
there in the vast darkness and close to |
the tremendous music of the waters. Her
partners found her far less fascinating
than usual. and wondered IL she were go
ing to be i'll 1t would not have occurred
to them to take any one of her flirtations
seriously.
Toward midnight the room became in
sufferably hot and her head was dizzy
with fatigue. She commanded her partner
of the moment to take her TO the dressing
room: then slipped out to the balcony.
the bay was conVulsee, and the Atlantic
seemed hurting itself over the bar. She
turned her back on the whirling figures
behind the windows and determined to |
remain there until II was time to go home, |
Or until Maynard Bridges found her.
AS she stood under lantern anL wore
4 white gown and shawl ard a number of !
diamonds. she sprang out from the dark
ness in fine relief, and she faced a man |
who lay in a long chair just beyond the
next pillar. He rose in moment and |
came forward.
y ou are very pale" he said.
Il have been thinking for two days. and
have decided once for all. shall not
marry you"
Her voice, her manner, her profile. were
Very WELL" he said, politely.
She stole a swift glance, through her
ats and was gazing out upon the tossing
Day. He looked as if he, too, had been
linking ard was tired of it.
u wisi' you'd take me out in a boat"
The said, abruptly.
Are you quite mad2"
IF | am not afraid / do not know why
you should be. You are as strong as a
he water l heard that you took off all
he honors for that sort of thing at Har-
"a rd.
Il did not take a course in midnight
storms he began; then added abruptly,
Very well. Come along"
She followed him down the steps Of the
,lin TO the boathouse.
'Wnl you punt?" he asked, dryly. "Or
10 you think a sail would be safer?"
Il want the rOwboat. of course" she
'aid. thrilling with the widest sense of
rcedOm she had ever known, for the great [ ;