The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-09-25

that would have been dire enough. But TO
marry a girl like that, He had been lucky
indeed,
Yet as the weeks went by the shock OF the
scene wore off. The scene itself remained
clear, with the grinning grotesquerie of the
Jack o Lanterns lighting IL and mocklng
his simplicity But the first sharp physical
hurt had healed. He was forced 10 ADMIT
that the girl still had power TO trouble him.
At times his strained nerves would relax 10
no other device than the picturing of her as
his own. Exactly in the measure that he IN
dulged this would his pride smart. With
budding gift for negatio he could imagine
her caring for nothing but his money: and
there was that other picture, swift ana aW-
ful, pantomime in shadow, with the lcer-
ing yellow faces above it,
In the far night. when he awoke 10 sud
den and hungry aloneness, he would let ms
arms feel their hunger for her. The VISION OF
her would be flowers and music and sun
light and time and all things perfect 20
mystify and delight, TO satisfy and-great.
est of all boons-to unsatisfy. The thougnt
OF her became a rest-house for all wearl-
ness; haven where he was free 10 choose
, his nook and lie down away from all that
was not her, which all that was not
beautiful He would go back TO seek the lost
sweetness of their first meeting to mount
the poor dead belief that she would care for
him-that he could make her care for him
and endow the thing with artificial Ire,
trying to capture the faint breath OF II;
but the memory was always 1eeting. atten-
uated. like the spirit of the memory Of per-
fume that had been elusive at best And
device might bring, came the more vivid
vision of the brutal, sordid facts. He forced
himself to face them regularly as penance
and a corrective
They came before him with especial clear
ness when he met her from time TO time
during the winter. He watched her in talk
with others, noting the contradiction In her
that she would at one moment appear know
| ing and masterful, with depths of reserve
that the other people neither fathomed nor
knew OF; and at another moment frankly
| girlish, with an appealing feminine help
| lessness which is woman's greatest strength,
coercing every strong masculine instinct.
| When the reserve showed in her, he be-
| came afraid. What was she not. capable of?
\ In the other mood, frankly appealing. she
| drew him nightly, so that he abandoned
| himself for the moment. responding 10 her
| fresh, exulting youth, longing to take her.
| to give her things, 10 make her laugh, TO
| enfold and protect her. to tell her secrets, TO
/ feather her cheek with the Softest kiss, to
/ be the child-mate of her.
| Toward him. directly, when they met she
/ would sometimes be glacial and forbidding
| sometimes uninterestedly frank as II they
| were but the best of commonplace friends
| Yet sometimes she made him feel that she,
| too, threw herself heartily TO rest in the
| thought of their loving, and cheated her
self, as he did, with dreams of comradeship.
She left him at these times with the feeling
| that they were deaf, dumb and blind to
each other: that If some means OF communi-
cation could be devised. something surer
| than the invisible play Of secret longings, all
| might yet be we'll They talked the peo-
| nothing to either, and if there were mute
| questionings, naked appeals, unuttered dec-
larations. they were only such as language
serves to divert attention from. Speech.
| doubtless. has its uses as we'll as its abuses.
| Politics, for example. would be less enter
| tanning without IL. But in matters of the
| heart. certain 1t is that there would be
| fewer Observation-Disclosures if it were forbid
| den between the couple under the penalty of
| immediate separation. In this AFFAIR real
meanings are rarely conveyed except by ST.
| "A rQ me- h2n II
| drapery to obscure their lines. The silence
| of lovers is the plainest of all speech, WARM
| ness, any but the truly mated. An hours
| silence with these two people by themselves
| might have worked wonders.
| Another diversion of Percivals during this
| somewhat feverish winter was Mrs. Akemit
| Not only was she woman of finished and
| expert daintiness in dress and manner and
surroundings, but she soothed, fiattered
and stimulated him. With the wisdom Of
her thirty-two years. devoted chiefly to a
study of his species, she took care never to
be exigent. She had the way of referring to
herself poor little me- yet she never
made demands or allowed him to feel that
she expected anything from him i'm toe way
| of allegiance.
Mrs. Akemit was not only like st. Paul,
| ''all things to all men, but she had gone a
step beyond that excellent theologue She
could be all things TO one man. She was
| light-heartedly frivolous. soberly reflective,
| shallow profound. cynical or naive, ingenu-
| Gus, inscrutabe. She priced dearly the
ecclesiastical background provided by her
uncle, the bishop, and had him TO dine with
the same unerring sense of artistry that led
her to select swiftly the bess0nng shade OF
sofa cushion to put her blonde head back
The good bishop believed she had jeopar-
died her soul with divorce He feared now
she meant to lose ii irrevocably through re-
marriage. AS a foil to his austerity there
FORE she would be audaciously gay in his
presence.
He'll she said to him one evening. Isis
oily roll fCr1fl rHrSo
expect to go there" And while the bishop
frowned into his salad she invited Percival
TO drink with her in the manner of a woman
who is mad to invite perdition. Ii the good
man could have beheld her before a back
ground of frivolity he might have suffered
less anxiety. For there her sense of contrast
express distaste for society with its hollow
hess, and TO expose tmidly the cruel scars
on a soul meant for higher things.
Many afternoons Percival drank tea with
her in the little red drawing room OF her
dainty apartment up the avenue. Here in
the half light which she had preferred since
thirty, in a soft corner with which she har-
monized faultlessly. and where the blaze
from the open fire colored her animated face
just enough. she talked him usually into the
glow of a high conceit with himself. When
she dwelt upon the shortcomings of man she
did it with the air of frankly presuming him
10 be different from all others, one who
could sympathize with her through know
ing the frailties of his sex, yet one i'm
measurably superior to them. When he was
led to talk of himsef-Of whom, il seemed
she could never learn enough-he at once
came to take high views of himself; to gaze
through her tactful prompting, with a gen
tie, purring appreciation upon the manifest
spectacle of his own worth.
| Sometimes. away from her, he wondered
how she did il. Sometimes. i'm her very pres
ence his sense Of humor became alert and
suspicious. Part Of the time he decided her
TO be charming woman. with a depth and
quality of sweetness unguessed by the
world. The rest of the time he remembered
a saying about alfalfa made by Uncle Pc.
ter: Its an innocent lookin', trifiin' vege.
table but its roots go right down into the
ground a hundred feet
MY DEAR, Mrs. Akemit had once con.
fided to an intimate In an hour of negligee
checked butcher boy to bloodless monk
and not make him feel something new fol
| you-something he never before felt for an,
other woman-really it's as criminal as :
. | wrinked stocking, for blondes to waal
shiny things. Every woman can do IT, n
| she'll study a little how to reduce them Z.
their least common denomina tor-how e
make them primitive"
OF another member OF Mrs Akemit',
, | household Percival acknowledged the swa,
with never a misgiving. He had been m,
ernoon when he had first cajoled her int.
photographs vivid, fire-tipped littl,
! thing with her mothers piauancy III,
, | CLEANED that day that she was "a auartel
| to four years DID, that she swas mamma },
GIRL but papa was friend of Santa Claus
| that she went to ball dances every da,
; | clad in "dest stirt cause big ladies dom
) ever wear WASTES at night" that she hat
once ridden In a merry-go-round and 4