The Tupelo journal., 1902-09-12
should ask her to go with him to the

should ask her to go with him to the
garden, but he kept silent.
Let us speak," said she, advancing
towards him. "Tell me, how are you
getting along? / have been thinking
of you all these days." she went on
nervously. Il was going to write
you. l have waited for you so impa-
tiently to-day. For Gods sake, come
into the garden"
They walked out in the garden and
seated themselves on the bench be-
meath the maple tree. 1t was a dark
night.
"Well, tell me, how are you get
ting along?" asked Catherine.
Gas usual" replied Starzey.
And he could not think of any
thing else to say. They sat in 81
lence for a while.
81 am nervous" said Catherine,
covering her face with her hands,
"but don't pay any attention to that.
I feel SO good at home; 1 I'm SO glad
to see everybody here. How many
happy recollections. It seemed to me
that we would keep on speaking here
all night long, until daybreak."
She nov gazed at him with naive
curiosity as though she wanted to
scrutinize, the better to comprehend
the man who once loved her so ten
derby and passionately, and her eyes
seemed to thank him for that love.
At this time Starzey recalled how
he roamed about the cemetery and
how he escorted her to the club on
the next day, and he felt sorry for
the past. A new light was kindled
in his soul.
"Do you remember the evening I
took you to the club?" he asked. "It
was raining. dark"
He was growing enthusiastic, he
wanted to unburden himself, to COM
plain of life in general.
"Eh," said he, with a sigh. "You
ask me how I am getting along. I am
getting older, %stouter, weaker. Life
passes gloomily, without leaving any
impressions, without inspiring any
thoughts. The days are devoted to
money-making, and the evenings spent
in the club amid gamblers and alco-
holics whom 1 detest from the depth
of my heart. What good is there in
such a life as this?"
"But you work-your noble aim in
life. You were always SO fond of
speaking about your hospital. 1 was
then a queer girl. / imagined myself
a great pianist. Now l know that
my piano playing and my mothers
novel writing are of a kind. 1 did not
understand you then, but later, in
Moscow, / often thought of you. I
thought of you alone. What happi-
ness it is to be a country doctor, to
be able to help suffering humanity, to
serve the people! What happiness!"
repeated Catherine enthusiastically.
"When 1 thought of you in Moscow,
you seemed to me so ideal, so SUBJ
lime...."
Starzey thought of the money he
so eagerly counted every evening on
his return from the patients, and the
~ III Ills SOul ultu oubs
He rose, ready to leave. Catherine
took him by the arm.
you are the best of all men I ever
knew in my life," she continued.
Call again. We must meet, we must
speak to each other. 1 am not a
pianist, 1 am perfectly clear on this
point; I'll never play again in your
presence-T1l lever speak to you
about music"
When Starzey entered the house
and saw her agitated face by lamp
light, and her sad, grateful, search,
he became restless.
ut is a good thing I didn't marry
her at hat time"-this thought again
flashed through his mind.
Starzey babe Der ~'goodby," and de-
parted.
Three days later a messenger
brought him a note from Catherine.
"You did not come to see us.
Why?" she wrote. ''The very thought
that you have changed makes me
sbudder. Come, reassure me by telling
me that everything is right. I must
speak to you about some important
matter. Your Catherine"
"Tell her." said the doctor to the
messenger-"tell her that 1 cannot
come to-day. I am very busy. Tell
her that I'll come about three days
later"
Three days passed, a whole week
went by, and Starzey did not call on
Catherine. In fact, he. never visited
the Turkins a~gain.-From the Rus
sian, by Herman Bernstein, in Boston
Budget.