Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1905-02-17

one in 4 thousand And Of thpse that
are published not one Ia hundred
yields anything for the author"
But Edgar is different" the daugh-
ter persisted. Il am sure II will sue
ceed. oh, | wish you could hear him
read it. You would say 50 yourself"
She regaled her father with portions
Of II that she had ledrnei by heart,
literally 10y heart. And her beautiful
trust in the eonquerinc power of the
man she loved warmed Mr.. Barton
even more than the wine at the club
dinner had done To avoid being led
10 do something sentimentally foolish
again he went away to think alone
And the wise result of his melitations
was that he must convince his daugh-
ter rather than rule her against her
convictions
Winslow's note would be due in less
than i month, and the banker knew
enough of the situation 10 believe that
II would not he paid at maturity. IL II
were not. then Alviva herself might see
the matter in more reasonable light.
At any rate, she would be likely to ac-
cept the compromise OF postponement
And there was hope in even that
Ii was St Valentines day. but Edgar
Winslow. standing In the morning by
his hall bedroom window. was thinking
OF something more important than pa
per hearts. For weeks he had waitel
in painful anxiety for the verdict OF
the publisher TO whom he had submit
ted his novel Day after day he had
watched the postman come aud go.
leaving nothing for him. On the 10th
of February he had written an urgent
letter tn the publisher begging him 10
render his decision before the 10th,
for thought he, with the book ac-
cepted | can raise money on my pros
poets. and Mr.. Barton must be prompt
iy paid" Now IL was the 18th, and
still no answer had come
4 trilling whistle sounded some
where up the street Edgar raised his
sash and leaned ont at the window.
Yes, the postman was coming his way.
Would he passi No; he turned in and
rang the basement bell The young
author closed the window and FASTENED
10 the head OF the stairs The house
maid was coming up. How slowly she
plodded. Winslow ran down to meet
her. calling over the banister. ANY
thing for me, MaryF"
Yes, Mr.. Winslow. you an me is
the only ones that's got valentines. l
guess Lookr' She had taken gaudy
comic" from the envelope addressed
to herself and was studying the verse
beneath the hideous picture
Edgar, all impatience, took the two
letters addressed to him and. with
| kindly word to Mary, sprang ioyously
up the stairs and shut himself In his
| room. With trembling fingers he tore
open the envelope bearing the publish
er's return card. The letter was short
and TO the point. The manuscript, the
publisher regretted to say, was mot
available" II would be returned by eI-
press that day
For long time Edgar stood looking
vacantly out at the deserted street
with its deep drifts of snow, from
which ftful gusts of wind swept up
thin white clouds and hurled them hiss
ing here and there. But the desolatieu
in his breast was bleaker than that of
the scene outside He had done his
best and failed. That was the deaden-
ing thought He had put his very soul
into this story-yes. and more; he had
put somewhat of Alviva's beautiful
| soul into ii. for ever since he had
known her she had been not only his
| inspiration, but also the unconscious
model Of all that was lovely in his fem
| inine creations. True. the limitations
Of language had confined him to the
merest suggestion of those finer feel
/ ings to which he thrilled as he wrote.
! but he had done his best, and under
| the most favorable conditions possible.
If this story was not worthy Of publ
! cation he could not hope ever TO write
one that would be.
And Alviva. Was II farewell to her
| also: From the depths of his despair
! he tried to look the situation honestly
| in the face. Must she not now lose her
! confidence in his power to win the
world, that simple. joyous confidence
which had encouraged him sbmetimes
to feel such boundless power within
| himself: Must she not now take him
| from the lofty pedestal on which her
love had placed him? II so. then his
life was not worth living. since its one
great purpose for months had been to
acquire indeed that nobleness of char
acter which she in her sweet. unques-
| tioning faith had ascribed to him.
In that hour Of overwhelming dis
,ress he had forgotten the other letter
| Now. however. he began tearing 1t
open listlessly. Nothing, he thought
that anybody might have to say to him
In typewriter communication could
be of the slightest interest now. Yet in
the next moment he stood with $500