The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1901-11-05
COMMONPLACE JIM.

uOWu Jut NllidSc street.. AIu IL uO6S seem
as though he grew more homely and awk-
ward every day of life" muttered she.
A step on the gravel walk aroused her
from her discontented musing, and, turn
ing, she met the smiling face and hand
some dark eyes of the young clerk who
boarded next door.
Don't look so disconsolate, Mrs. Part
ridge" said he, gayly, disclosing his white
teeth in a hooking smile. Jim is coming
home to dinner, isn't he?"
"Of course, Mr.. Blake" answered Mary,
the color deepening in her face as she moved
back a step.
I'll was only thinking a bit" continued
Mary, forcing a smile.
Come, Mary, tell me all about it," said
he, softly. is marriage a failure or is it
not?"
Mary gave a slight toss of her head, and
without a word turned and walked swiftly
coward the house.
A complacent smile curved the young
mans lips as he proceeded on his way.
'That girl is about as much in love with
her middle-aged husband as l am" NUT
tered he.
Indeed, that was the whole truth of the
matter. Mary Partridge was not in love
with her husband and never had been. Like
many another village maiden, she had
grown weary with the struggle for self
maintenance and had accepted her first
good offer of marriage. Jim Partridge was
a bachelor of 40, plain looking, steady and
Industrious, earning the good wages of a
mechanic, and the owner of a pretty cot
tage house. To Mary this seemed almost
wealth, and, smothering her desire for a
more romantic attachment, she had glad
ly accepted the good fortune that had come
to her. A year had passed, and with it the
novelty of her comfortable surroundings,
and IA feeling OF discomfort had crept into
Mary's heart.
Jim's quiet good nature, his simple, un-
pretending amer and homely domestic
ways had begun to pail upon her.
Her face burned and her heart beat I'M
comfortably as she fastened into the house
with Arthur Blake's words ringing in her
ears.
SIS marriage a failure, Mary, or is it not?"
Over and over again Mary asked herself
this question as she busted herself about
the sunny kitchen, busted her pretty parlor,
and arranged the china and silver upon the
snowy cloth of the dinner table.
Suddenly the answer came with swift
conviction, and Mary clasped her hands to-
gether in mute despair. 1t was a failure
q miserable failure, she thought bitterly.
To give up forever her freedom, her lib
erty of action, her every chance in life, for
what? Mary's eyes glanced around the
room and answered for her. Yes, she had
a pretty home, and jim was kind to her
and loved her more than she deserved, and
yet-ah! her life was simply unbearable.
With this thought came an u%ncontrol-
liable desire to escape from the bonds that
held her, to snap the chains that she her
self had wrought, and to go away, some
where, anywhere, only to go-go!
As if driven by some invisible power,
Mary snatched a hat from its nail and
rushed from the house.
Across the well-kept grass plot at the
rear of the cottage Mary sped, out through
the gate, and over the wide pasture lot thai
lay between the lawn and the dusty high
way.
The sun shone, the birds sang, the grass
was strewn with buttercups and daisies,
and the air was fragrant with summers
sweetest perfume, but Mary needed them
not. Breathless and painting, she reached
the long stretch OF country road just as
the village clock struck II. jim would be
coming home to dinner, and sometimes he
came that way, thought Mary, and again
that feeling that she must flee from him
from the pretty home, the hateful mar
rage bands, urged her footsteps. The
cleaning railroad track lay across the road
a short distance ahead.
The throbbing of her brain, the beating
of her heart, deafened her ears to the APP
preaching train, and swiftly she crossed
the track. As she gained the other sidt
she saw Jim's familiar figure coming to
ward her. Again that curious desire tt
fly from him took possession of her, ane
she hastily turned back.
MARY! What are you about?" CRIED
4 mans voice, and two strong arms pushed
her from the track, and she fell forward
upon her face in the dusty road, while the
train Numbered on.
Stunned for a few moments, Mary did no,
move; then, with an effort, she rose tt
her feet, wondering at the strange silence
about her.
Where was jim? Her dazed eyes glanced
up and down the road and fell at last upo1
a silent form that lay huddled against tn.
track.
ooh, jim, have l killed you?" she criee
in agony, as she bent over him.
Gathering his head and shoulders within
her strong young arms, Mary dragged hin
into the cool grass beneath the shade of
huge tree.
Save for the slow rise and fall of tina
broad chest, Jim Partridge lay as one dead
and Mary's repentant tears and the toucl
of her trembling fingers fell UNDECIDED upol
that pale face.
1t was but a few minutes, but it SCENE,
hours to Mary in her suspense and remorse
before help arrived and her husband wa
carried slowly and carefully back to hi
cottage home.
: Through the long night hours, while tw
: physicians were working over Jim's pool
5 bruised body, there awoke in the hear
of Mary Partridge a revelation. With hol
ror and disgust she looked back upon he
wild impulse of the morning.
"If jim dies, he will have given his lif
' for mine," she murmured, through her sob:
and no man can do more than that. VIII
: am | that | should scorn such a love, or ca
it commonplace"
r Your husband will live. He has asked
see you,' said the physicians voice.
"a pretty close shave, wasn't it!" viii
,, pered jim, as his wife leaned tenderly owe
L arD 81. L -