The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1902-04-18
THE LIMIT.
by FRAME Y. BEcKARs.

he DelleNeQ IL himself. Ills 1flenQS naQ ar
gued with him until, at last, they had aban.
doned further effort ana decided to let him
drift on as he would. They were disguised
with him, and even he admitted they had
cause to be. And yet, they still found some
thing fine in his neutrality-suspicious. it was his
frank manner of confessing his faults or
his humanity in the face of criticism, or,
perhaps, his sincere, if futile, desires to re-
form and, as his friends would urge, make
something of himself-or, perhaps, with
some, it was the only way he had of smil-
ing under fire.. His friends told him he was
weak and not viciously bad, and he himself
believed he was weak and was very doubt
full about the latter.
Finally there came one who had faith in
him, abundant enough, he began to think,
for both of them. He remembered their
hrst meeting, in her own parlor; she stand
ing at the side of the fireplace, with its glow
Illuminating her face. He remembered that
she did not impress him as being SO very
pretty then-neat, sweet, and attractive,
certainly-with pleasant and sympathetic
voice and "good-fellow" kind of manner.
He drifted back again, he did not under
stand why, and soon, to his own surprise,
found himself on quite an intimate footing,
contented to sit silently studying her fea-
lures and their ever growing beauty. As
result, he grew ashamed of himself and
made determined resolutions to reform,
which We're as frequently broken as made,
and as promptly made again. He soon be-
gan to think that she understood him as no
one else had ever done. She found so many
good traits in his character, delightful sur
prises to him, that he finally decided to be-
come the man that she believed him to be.
He decided to start with clean slate-and
so told her one evening, as they were sit
ting before the cheerful fire, of his life,
and spared nothing in the painting. Confess
sion was sweet, and, of all else, he had never
been hypocrite, and he wanted to show
her what good she had done him. Not
word she uttered during his recital She
simply had sat quiet, with her hands fold
ed on her lap, gazing steadily into the fire.
He wondered, now and then, as his story
progressed, OF what she was thinking,
whether his recital shocked her, if she was
trying to read in the live Goals the dreary
future opened up to her, why the cat an
noyed him brushing his leg.
When he had finished, he, too, sat quiet,
vaguely wondering if he had been wise in
telling, but then he did not want to be
hypocrite. Listening to the heavy clock
ticks, he seemed to hear them set them
selves to the words: "You have lost her"
he wondered why he only now felt how very
dear she was to him and how useless life
seemed without her. What was the use of
it all, anyway, of his good resolutions, of his
strenuous efforts, of his abstinence? No
matter now what he did or became, he had
Just shattered her good opinion of him and
how could woman love man after that?
is there any more?"
mild CT ri cd out IF
his revery. He was but dimly aware of the
stiffness OF the house, of her quiet, con-
strained tones as she remarked how late
it was, as she babe him goodnight of her
saying that she wanted to think it all over.
As he walked slowly homeward, he re-
viewed again all he had told her. Yes, he
had certainly been frank, brutaly frank,
and made clean breast of it, After all,
had it been necessary! Well, he would
leave it until tomorrow. The nights sleep
would clear his thoughts.
The next day he received her answer and
he thought that if he loved her before, he
certainly adored her then. Her faith in
him remaned mistaken, and she loved him
more than ever. How bright the world
suddenly looked! How joyous his heart
sang!
They had been secretly engaged for al
most a year, whole year of unalloyed hap
piness, for they knew there would be pa
rental objections. His friends had noticed
the change in his habits, but ceased to Won
der, and accepted his reformation as COM
plete. He felt that he had worked hard,
but it had been pleasure to work, thinking
constantly of her. Her faith in him was
firm. His progress was slow, but they were
encouraged. He was steadily gaining head
way and, this evening, he and she attended
the play together. The evening passed
quickly, as all such evenings had, and he
gladly accepted her invitation to come in a
moment and warm himself before going
home. The moment had heightened silent
ly, as usual, when she said:
81 realize I've made mistake. I've been
wanting to tell you for some time, but did
not have the courage. I'm so sorry-but [
think it best to break our engagement, don't
you? You know you don't like hypocrites"
He found himself trying to remember
what the play they had just seen had been
and dimly wondering why he couldn't
why don't you say what you are think
ing? Why don't you abuse me, as | de-
serve!" she added.
He stood looking at her dumbly, numbly
81 suppose she continued you will go
back to your dreadful drinking-to your
old lfe?"
81 don't know" he muttered Good
night. Mirror.
Slightly Off on RECOMMENDATIONS.
A very estimable woman of Milwaukee is
an earnest member of local German class,
but her method of pronouncing some of the
words, at least in one specific instance
aroused the mirth of her companions. At
recent meeting of the class, one of the
questions in the days exercise was: Are
you not glad that you are able to learn Ger
man."
This query was in the foreign language
and the answer was: ia; gewiss,' mean
ing: Yes certainly"
1t so happened that this particular woman
was called up to read the question and
answer She got through the question all
right, but convulsed the class by reading the
answer this way:
''Ya; gee whiz! Milwaukee Sentinel.
Reflections of Bachelor.
Philosophy is an atfectaton Of submission
to what one can't help.