The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-07-20
Why Victor Tremayne ReWrOte
His Novel
By JOSEF II KIN 6

first OF August What shall I do. and
where shall go? As far as l can see the
only place which is deserted just now is
London. But I am sick Of London"
The truth was he was sick of every place.
and pretty nearly sick Of life itself. There
Was no apparent reason for this. Victor
Tremayne was a young man, barely turned
thirty years Of age, and yet he had OBJ
tanned a position which was the envy OF
his fellows. He was on the staff of a Lead
Ing review; he had published books which
brought him both money and fame; he was
recognized as a man Of Importance in lit
erary circles: he had been feted on every
hand, and he was constantly invited to
houses which entertained the best intel
lectual life Of london. What more could
a man desire?
But he did desire more. What It was he
cid not know; nevertheless. his life was a
weary one-so much so. that he had come
10 the conclusion that existence was pretty
much OF a failure
1t is true that during the last few months
he had been fairly happy. on account Of the
book he had been writing. The subject Of
his novel had possessed him. and had in
terested him TO the last page; but that was
finished. Only the night before be had
finished revising the final proof-sheets, and
he was as a consequence suffering, not
only from want Of something to interest
him. but from the natural reaction which
follows many months OF sustained labor.
Where shall I go?' he asked again and
again. 1.-The ordinary seaside watering
place is unbearable; Scotland is crowded;
while as for Switzerland there will not be
room to move"
eco to your old home" something sug-
gested TO him. but he Immediately steeled
his heart against yielding to it. The reason
for this may be stated in a few words.
His father had died when he was twenty.
leaving him absolutely alone in the world.
except for a distant relation in London, to
whose care and interest he had intrusted
his son. Henry Tremayne had been a re-
served, quiet man, who made no friends
except with his books, and who had lived
an utterly secluded life. Victor. being a
studiOus, sensitive lad, had also kept away
from the companionship of his fellows, and
thus. but for the exception of one interest,
would have left the quiet Cornish hamlet
without a regret.
This one exception. however, colored his
whole life. When he was eighteen he fell
p~assionately in love with a child of fifteen.
This child, Ruth Enedor. he worshiped with
ell the fervor of his nature. He had never
spoken to her of his love, and never made
known his preference for her in any way,
except that he sent her a valentine as each
st. Valentines Day came round, and a
christmas card at Christmas time. But he
had never signed his name to either of
these communications. He had in each
case Enclosed a sheet of paper. in which
he had told her, that one who dared not
speak to her loved her devotedly, fondly
hoping that she would recognize who had
sent il, and give him some token that his
love was returned. But he received moth
Ing from her in return; indeed, when he
had met her, she had apparently taken no
notice of him.
He was twenty when his father died, and
she was seventeen. and the one thing that
cheered him in going to London was the
thought that he would work TO obtain
both position and fame, in order that he
might in a very few years go back and lay
everything at her feet. For three years
he worked. and studied, and lived, ever
with the thought OF Ruth Enedor in his
mind. Each Valentines day he sent her
his love token, and each Christmas day
he told her that she was the light of his
life. But he could never muster sufficient
courage to write his name, much as he
longed to do so.
During these years he had been contin-
uously writing for the Press, for editors
had recognized his ability from the first,
and presently he rejoiced with a great JOY
because a publisher had agreed to publish
a little volume of his poems.
i will send her the first copy" he cried,
and with it a letter telling her who has
sent her the valentines. and who has loved
her for five years"
With eaSerness he waited for his little
book TO appear, all the time dreaming OF
the joy that would be his when he should
meet her again. The day on which his
Love Dreams" were published, however,
was a day OF darkness and bitterness, for
the same post which brought him six copies
OF his book also brought him news that
Ruth Enedor was married to a young farm
er who lived near st. Mabyn village. The
news changed Victor Tremayne from being
a sensitive. optimistic boy, to a pessimistic.
middie-aged man. In his foolishness he
heaped reproaehes upon her. and accused
her of all sorts Of mad things.
From that time great success came to
him., but no happiness. A few years later
he believed he had driven Ruth Enedor
from his mind. and then his success, bring
ing him into notoriety. he received much
attention. Presently he became enamored
OF a literary woman. and married her. The
marriage was a tragedy. The woman, older
than himself, was heartless, selfish, un-
faithful For two years he lived with her
IN misery, and then when she left him,
while he felt relieved of a great burden.
he became a soured, morcse man. He gave
UP all faith in woman, and lost the 10y Of
life. Sometimes his mind flew back 10 the
years when he used to worship Ruth
Enedor from afar; but he quickly tried to
Danish her from his mind.
why should 1 carer" he would some
times say TO himself. 'fShe is by this time
a fat, blowsy farmers wife. She feeds
pigs, milks COWS. and carries butter to mar
ket! Most likely. too, she has three OF
four fat, lumpy children" All the same.
he could not forget her. neither did the
picture he had conceived concerning her
Danish her from his life. "No, I can't stay
In London throughout the whole Of August
and September" he said as he finished his
lonely breakfast bad as other places
may be at this time of the year, London
Is worse. Every club-room IS empty, every
acquaintance is out OF town: ! shall simply