The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1902-04-04
WITHOUT ROMANCE.
ny BARRY PAIN.

= Sne SAT on Cne IlOOr III 1rOnt OF the roar
ing fire in her beautiful room. This she did
to put the last touch to the drying of her
long hair; it was always a tedious work.
She was clad in silver-gray dressing gown
of pleasing luxury, her little feet in silver
gray slippers. Close to her feet lay the
fourpence-ha lfpenny magazine which she
she liked the girls face pictured (abom-
to bed, the rest of the staid household was
asleep; she was quite alone. Her attitude
was charming and graceful; grace was in
her blood, and she loved her own beauty.
She had been reading a love story by
nobody in particular in the fourpence-half-
penny magazine. Frankly, the author had
no more art than dead fish. He was pre-
tentious, weak and untrue. He was mer-
chant in sentimental molasses, common as
dirt, fat-footed, laundering, impotent. At
least, he was all that to anybody of right
taste, but the girl liked his story, and had
just finished reading it for the second time.
1t was simply matter of experience. Later,
she learned how hateful that kind of work
was. At present the WORKOUT subject had a
freshness and glamour for her, and she was
unable to detect the seniGty of the treat
ment. Even now, she could not easily en-
dure the Illustrations; that remarkably COM
mon young man, with the usual black mus
tache and the preposterous waistcoat, was
no hero for her; the good looks of tailor's
dummy did not appeal to her; you could
sweep hundred such out of any city train
any morning.
She had her hero already-or, if not
hero, a prospective husband. 1t was all
arranged, and she was to be married next
month, and she had not the least inclina-
ton to escape from it; indeed, she was
very fond of Sir Charles. He was rather
old, but not more than rather old and not
in the least decayed; he was a keen sports
man still. He had decent and rather
aristocratic ugliness, and looked well on
horse. On his generosity and his physi-
cal courage she felt that she could depend
absolutely. She could tick off endless rea-
sons for marrying Sir Charles And she
could not find one reason against it ex-
cept, perhaps
Well, she put it to herself in this way
If Sir Charles had never loved her, would
it have broken her heart? Would ito
be frankly brutal-have mattered the half
of hatpin to her? Her whole being gave
an unequivocal mo" 1t would not have
mattereG in TIM very least. She would
never have given one serious thought to
him. She had naively confessed as much
to him once; and the real modesty of his
answer had made her like him all the bet
ter. But the girl in the ten-for-a shilling
story was quite different. That girls name
was Madeline Wyncourt, and she did things
thoroughly; she futtered; she throbbed;
she clasped her hands tightly to her heart;
her dark eyes filled with tears; she rare
ly slept, and she showed nice taste in
sunsets. And all that was three paragraphs
before the hero declared his passion, and
pages before he finally deserted her.
Ii it had been only the story, that would
not have affected, the girl in the silvergray
dressing-gown very much. After all she had
some common sense, and even if she could
not and did not see how essentially stock
size Madeline Wyncourt was, she fully re-
allied that it was only makeup for mag
azine. But then she had known girls in
real life who had fallen deep in love, and
had seen with wonder that had in it
something of envy and something of horror
the hunger or the paradise of their eyes,
The girl in the silver-gray dressing gown
smiled quantity. 1--WE none of the symp-
TOMS" she said to herself. Then she ran
her hand through her hair and found it
quite dry and warm. She rose and switched
off the electric light; the flicker from the
fireplace lighted her to bed.
Her two years of married life, peaceful
and uneventful, ended abruptly. Sir
Charles was returning from before-break-
fast gallop, when his mare put her foot in
hole. He was dead almost before he knew
what had happened.
We are all creatures of habit, and any
woman who pours out tea for any man for
rather more than 700 mornings becomes
greatly attached to him. Her ladyship was
completely overcome. Subsequently, she
made a very pretty widow. She paid many
visits-her big house was so lonely for her.
For a similar reason in time she picked up
the threads again, and entertained good
deal. She was rather bored and she re-
fused several proposals from quite nice men
who would have bored her worse than even
solitude could do. And one night--or early
morning-in her sleep, she had this dream.
She was complaining to somebody whom
she could not see, though she could hear
his voice very distinctly. She was feeling
hurt and angry.
Its too bad" she said Give had no
romance in my life at all. Nothing to wrap
me all over and make my heart stop. Com
fort? Yes, plenty OF it. But I've missed
something. I've missed romance"
''Sir Charles?" said the voice interroga-
lively
'.You know how fond l was of him. We
never had quarrel. He was good man
but, well, he was not like that
The voice appeared to Singer little.
II want romance" she went on. 81 want
flame and color"
The voice grew very serious. Beyond
your means, my dear All gain is paid with
loss proportional You could not pay the
price. You"
But the rest seemed to be lost in the
applause of great multitude. She woke
suddenly. The maid who had been tapping
gently at the door brought in the tea
Black and White.
The Negro Seized the Big Word.
"The English language, considered in its
correct aspect, is probably the most puzzling
thing in. the world to the negro" said a
member of the New Orleans bar, who oc
casionally has case in the criminal court
"The fact that SO many words are pro