The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1903-09-09
A HALT UNDER FIRE.


you.' said Miss Frayne. If I marry
you It will be frankly for your position
and for your money. Every one will
accuse me of it, and 1 might as we'll
myself" She leaned over the rail of
the veranda. her eyes following the
wake of the moonlight upon the water
You've said that before-too many
times" said the man at her side. but
can't believe it. If it were true. YOU
would never say it. There is something
else. There must be something else
There is nothing else,' she said. '.un-
feel settled and at rest emotionaliy
don't want to think-in that way-any
more. IL l married you. it would be
wrong to you. and 1 wouldn't do it. i
should begin all over again new. And
then"
That's a very different thing" he
replied. You've played fairly. l knew
when You first answered me that you
didn't love me, but can't bear to have
you speak of your motives in that cold
blooded way. 1t isn't quite fair to YOU
Il want to put it as brutally as
can" she insisted 4 want you to
you can never reDroach me-"
"Bertha? he cried, wincing at the
suggestion.
oh, yes. know you think you
would never do that. but 1 know that
one changes in time. and that perhaps
after while. when you had got used
to my being near you, and hadn't made
me care In the way that you hope to.
then you might forget what 1 had said,
and think that you had been cheated.
l want the bargain we'll understood.
You don't seem to believe that 1 have
no heart left. I don't want you to
cherish any false hopes"
She moved her head so that she could
look out over the vague, wide waters of
the bay. Her eyes were strained. her
features naotionless. The faint lap. lap
OF the little waves on the shore seemed
to aunov her.
Yen said you were sure we could
always be friends. at least he broke
in, half pleadingly, half in argument
'Oh, yes. of course You'll not bore
me. I SUPPOSE I shall even grow fond
of you. You have tact and patience
and sympathy" She spoke listlessly,
and these faint compliments had some
rose, and said. please move my chair
around. I can't bear the sight of that
water"
The Honorable Charles Braxton rear
ranged her chair, charged his own posi-
| ton and went on with his customary
persistent patience. Il have told YOU
that want you more than ever want
ed anything, Bertha, and the more 1
see OF you, the stronger that need grows
I want you so much that 1 must have
you I'm willing to take all the chances,
II you are. thing can make you love
| me. It's a tTite enough thing to say,
| but I'm so sure of myself and SO much
IN earnest that I can't bear to have YOU
accuse yourself so and insist upon your
] lack of any feeling"
ut is not an accusation, it is the state
ment of fact. / am making a delibeT-
| ate compromise. l couldn't have what 1
most wanted. and I'm taking half a
loaf. This isn't hattering to you, but L
can't help it. 1 can give you only my
bare acceptance. If you want me that
| much, am yours I know SO well what
the real thing is. 1 had touched it, and
| felt 1t, and known the life and JOY of it
for one little while, and then the big
house of joy tumbled, and 1 was left out
in the darkness. After that you came.
l told you that didn't care. that I never
could; but you will never believe me.
Now I'm simply tired of resisting you,
and I'm at a halt ready to be captured
without much fight. There's no hope of
reinforcements. My romance is quite
over
Ones first love. affair always seems
more romantic, I suppose. You thought
you were in love, but l think one can
never judge at the time. One is never
sure until long afterward."
Miss F'rayne rose suddenly. NO, one
doesn't always know at the time she
said, but one does know afterward.
Look at that waterl Must 1 tell you
that now, here, the moonlight on those
waves makes me almost ill with an ag-
itation I can't control? 1t is heartrend-
ing. Moonlight always is, anyway, to
any one who has imagination. 1t is the
typical thing for happy memories grown
sad. It's almost theatrical-It's the
subject of hundred cheap Autographs
but / can't bear it, My nerves tingle
with it, for it means only one thing for
me-one night! We were on the water
in a boat alone, and off somewhere in the
darkness a woman in summer cottage
was singing Robin Adair.' The song is
a part of it all. and I can't that, either!
II is one of the tricks our memory plays
US when it selects something absolutely
insignificant and passes over so many
obviously important events. But the
song and the moonlight on the waves
stand out in m past with the viyidness
of a fiash-hght photograph and they
mean only one thing-hin."
He did not reply to this for some time
but at last he cautiously advanced, Blu!
your enga cement was broken. Doesn'i
that prove that your love was not per-
fect?'
mo- she said; 81 shall never ac-
knowledge that. Every great love must
be a tragedy, it seems to me. 1t is SC
in poetry, in the drama. in all art; and
so it is in life. think That Is why
if you insist. / shall marry you. don't
want to think of it any more. l want
to feel Just warm and quiet
The Hon. Charles Braxton remained
silent.
pique," she said. as if to draw his fire.
@And that will be true, too?" he
asked.
mo; I couldn't feel that way. The
story is closed-forever closed to me. II
ended tonight, when I got my letters
back from him.
you put me in a hard position" he
said. II love you, and I want you, and
you are willing to accept me, yet you
make me feel as if I were taking adj
vantage of you if marry you"
"LetYus have it over now" said Miss
F'rayne. "I'n go in and get my letters
and you shall read some of them. You
must, before we decide, and If after that
YOU still want me, I'll marry you"