Greene County herald. (Leakesville, Miss.) 1898-current, 1905-11-17
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A Double Identity
By Mary wlckham.
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NUN, NlduyS udu one SecfeT.
She wrote poetry, but was so diff
fident about her verses that she had
not told her lover She also was
obliged to take the world into her con-
tidence. Like Mrs. Browning, her SON.
nets, under the title of ''Sylvia's Love-"
brought her fame and renown.
One day, the book fell into Georges
hands, and then arose the misunder-
standing.
By intuition he felt they we're writ
ten for him. Loyalty to Gladys and
love for Sylvia fought in his heart day
by day, making him morose and
gloomy. Finally his visits grew few
and far between
Gladys noticed his preoccupation and
began to fret. Had she been too bold
in telling the world of her love? Could
he have discovered the authorship of
the sonnets?
Pride kept her tongue tied and the
meetings of the lovers grew fewer and
colder
All the world wondered and re-
marked at the estrangement.
How pale Gladys looks, George"
said his mother anxiously. do you
think she is fretting?"
He gulped down a great cup of cof-
fee, scalding himself in the endeavor
'I-er-haye not noticed, MOTHER" he
said, with averted face.
Have you quarreled?' she queried.
Io
thought in your head?"
Il could not imagine QUARREL re-
piled his mother, because you seemed.
to understand one another so thorough
ly. Surely you have. not grown tired
of each other?'
Il do Wish you would not interfere
with my affairs" exclaimed her son
pettishly, pushing his chair away from
the table. Poor little Gladys" he
muttered, going upstairs. Ought 1
to tell her how l feel?"
Left to herself, his mother sighed
"How unlike Georgep' she said. Il
wish 1 could do something"
"Gladys," asked her mother, what is
the matter with you? You never eat
anything and you are getting as pale
as a ghost. Has George been unkind
to your"
Gladys burst into tears.
Il do not know, MOTHER" she fall
tered. 81 fear George is getting tired
of me, and did think he loved me-"
She looked tearfully out of the win
dow, where brown thrush was warb-
ling to his mate from a wild cherry
tree.
Il thought you were made for each
other" answered her mother thought
fully. 81 cannot think that about
George. Why do you not ask him?
1t would be better to break the en-
gagement than live forever misora-
ble"
Il hardly like to ask him." said the
girl hesitatingly. "Yet would sooner
break it off if he has really grown tired
of me. Only it will be so horridr'
One afternoon George came in.
Gladys was alone at tea. Polite but
cold greetings took place.
Yes, George would take cup of
tea, and "Ah, thank you, two Jumps,
pleaser
In the old days Gladys was quite
aware of his sugar-loving propensities.
But his stern, set face made her hard
Ell her heart, though it was beating
very unanimously. She had deter
mined to have it out before George
babe her farewell.
Strangely enough, George had made
his visit for the same purpose.
George
"Gladys"
Il beg your pardon, Gladys, what
were you going to say"
Poor Gladys broke down.
oh. George, DEAR" she cried hys-
terically, do not be so horribly polite.
What is the matter with you? What
las changed you? Have l offended
you. or"-she hesitated- "have you
grown tired of me?"
mo, no, Gladys he answered has
tily; Il love you dearly. But" he add
ed, looking rather foolish, II love some
one else equally as WE'LL
"Oh, Georgew cried the girl, with a
scarlet face, ''how can you talk so?
Who is she?'
Il do not know. | do not even know
her name, though have tried hard to
discover it."
but ] do not understand" she COM
mented, looking at him in bewilder-
ment.
1T is just this: She is the writer of
some lovely poems-poems which |
should like a woman TO write for me.
| feel in love with you, Gladys, be-
cause of the strong affinity between
US OH many subjects. When it comes
to the greatest Of all themes you are
dumb and ] am the lover. The love is
all OH my sjde.'
George, dear, could not speak,"
she said, trembling, ''but -"
He went on regardless of her inter-
ruption.
Now, this woman inspires me.
feel she is my ideal woman. | talk
to her and I con over her poems as |
paint. Yet all the while / am thinking
Of you and wishing you could speak.
So"
lie paced MP and down the room and
then sat down by her side.
Why, lie cried, taking Il little hand
and fondling II. II am So crazed that
! am actually painting a picture to my
unknown IDEAL have called it WHO
is Sylvia: ~" He did not notice her
glad start OF wonder and recognition.
but Went OH nassingly. Il have put