Shoshone journal. [volume] (Shoshone, Idaho) 1884-1931, 1903-09-18
CHApTFR U-(CoxrIrurD.,


of home, and love, and appreciation; OF
liberty to speak out what she had
never lisped since her mother died, and
of being once again, joyously and with
out reserve, herself. There are no
harder speeters to lay than these same
dreams. Memories, however dear and
sacred, are more easily forgotten or
dismissed, or smothered by the growth
of later ones. If she babe them fare
well now, it was for lifetime. "A
lifetimer' she repeated, shiyering with
a sick chill, and crouching lower over
the register. Maybe ten, maybe
twenty-who knows but forty years? It
is tedious slumber Of ones heart, and
a loveless marriage Is a loathsome sep
ulcher for ones better and real self 4
lifetime, and l can have but one, But
onei If this step should be ruin and
misery, there can be no redemption
this side of the grave. Ills grave, per-
haps-just as probably mine"
Tonight, this very hour, she must
resist the glittering temptation to fore
swear her womanhood, or murder, with
her own hand, the dear visions that had
come to be more to her than reality. The
winter twilight had fallen early. 1t was
the season best loved by her dream
visitors. She had not lied in declaring
TO her inquisitor that she had never
been in love, but she confessed
that she had equiyocated as
the shadowy figure of her
ideal lover stood beside her. in the
friendly gloom. Mrs. Romaine would
have questioned her sanity had she
guessed how the girl had sobbed her
griefs into quiet upon his bosom, how
talked lowly but audibly to him Of her
love and the comfort his presence
brought. She had never looked into
his face, but she should know him in
an instant should they two ever meet
in the flesh, as they did now daily in
spirit Somewhere in the dim and
blessed future he was waiting for her,
and she had borrowed patience from
the hope. She was to be his wife-the
mother of children as unlike the prodi-
gies of repression that lined two sides
of her brothers table as cherubs to
puppets. She welcomed them to her
arms in these twilight frances. They
lolled upon her knees, slept in her en-
brace, strained eager arms about her
kisses. Unsubstantial possessions
these, but cherished as types Of good
things to come. Other women had such
riches-women with faces less fair and
affections less ardent than hers. If
the Great Father was good and merci-
full, and the Rewarder of them who put
their trust in Him, a true and loving
parent, who rejoiced in the happiness
of His creatures-all these must be
hers at last. If she resigned them now
it was a final separation.
"And can have but one lifetime"
she moaned again. Thwarted and fruit
less thus far. but still all she had
The one idea required to her with the
persistency of presentiment. The life
which God had given, the heart He had
endowed
IF some one, stronger and wiser than
decision from my soul, would hedge me
in on the right and left, l would go
forward. AS it is, dare mott 1 dare
notp' She sobbed and wrung her hands
in the agonies of irresolution.
You told Constance about the tele-
gram?" 1t was her brother speaking in /
the library below. The sound arose 1
plainly through the open register.
Il did. But regret to say that she is
not yet in the frame of mind we could /
wish her to carry to the interview with
Mr.. Withers," said Mrs. Romano. She |
always expressed herself with DELHI
crate precision even in conjugal tete-
a-tete.
Nor" Constance heard the rustic OF
the evening paper as Charles laid it
down, and the creak of his chair as ha
confronted his wife. What is the mat
teri"
Some overstrained ideas Of the beau
y and propriety OF reciprocal devotion,
believe. She looks for a hero in a
and Mr.. Withers has nothing
heroic in his appearance or compost
.ion."
He is worth more than half a mil
ion, all accumulated by his own tai
'nts and industry returned Mr.. Ro-
maine. Constance cannot be such an
'gregious simpleton as not to perceive
he manifest advantages of this connec-
ion to her. ! have newer complained of
he burden OF her maintenance, but
ave often wondered her own sense Of
ustice and expediency did not urge her
o put forth some effort at self-sup-
ort- There is but one way IN which $
he can do this. She is not sufficiently I
borough in any branch of literature. S