The Montgomery advertiser., 1905-11-11
TEE SPARK OF LOVE.
BYKENNErH M'KIM.


 Copyright, 1905, by Daily Story Pub
 fishing Col
 She had been sitting for long time in the edge of the grape arbor. gazing up into the pale heavens, with their myriad of blinking stars--worlds so Tar beyond mans reach that they were put dots of light to him. It seemed eter- nity A longing filled her heart to float away among those distant beck oning lights; to get infinittes away fl om everything and everybody she knew, and stink forever into the sweet abyss of oblivion. There was strange ly magic charm to that endless realm of space whose depths must remain for ever unfathomed. The tangle of vines on the trellis loomed black against the sky, and it seemed to the woman as this were the boundary line of all things temporal; beyond that the Great Ever lasting, and sweet solitude.
 Her mind reverted with painful cru city to that beautiful old myth of the music of the spheres--a spectral visita- | tion from another world, the world Of | her girlhood. How she had thought | and dreamed of that fairy legend in her | school days, and In those days of her | courtship! How she had loved to sit | and gaze up at the stars, and weave wonderefuf love fabrics of the mind! | She had joyed to picture a wild TO- ! nance of herself floating off into space. up. up to those mighty, mysterious worlds. and suns, and moons; and per haps treading the milky way-just her self, and one other. That had been her most real conception of Heaven. An, happy girlhood days! Once more she longed to drift away into ethereal nowhere; but, how different now! There was no jubilance in that desire now; no Iove-satisfed contentment. And that other one--alas. she knew now it had all been mistake. If Love truly was blind, it was an unfortunate ly temporary affection.
 The strains of festive music waited out through an open window in the house. whence streamed hood of light, Altering through the grape vines, and here and there touching up the melan- choly figure of the woman with a spot of color. --,-
 Wilson was in there, a royal host. Several times she had heard his voice ring out merrily above the others. He was a capable and willing enter tainer; there was no need of her within. When Wilson acted as host, she could not be missed, not in her present mood. And Cousin Marguerite, for whom the reception had been given, was there, too.
 Wilson had a natural talent as a
 
 that had first won her admiration as a schoolgirl. She had not looked deep CT down to find the real man; not then. She had seen only the surface, the | smooth veneering which attracted and | made a display. He had delighted her; and she had loved him, or thought she loved him.
 In this jolly, placid optimism of spirit | he had never changed. He was the rol- | licking, care-free Wilson of a decade | ago. But married life had seemed to show him up to Ter from such a differ ent viewpoint. That actual poverty had not stared them in the face was not his fault, and she charged him with the crime of neglect as much as though she had been driven into the world of trade for a livelihood. That | a man was blessed. or cursed, with a prohigately benevolent father of abund- ant means was to her mind no virtue. Lazin sss was laainess: and she had to | admit, though 1t cut her pride to the cuick, that Wilson was lazy. For sin e the wedding it had been one long | honeymoon for him, and involuntarily herself It was here for a season, and there for season; and never in all these years had there been a serious attempt on his part to prove his business abil- ity He never had time to settle down {;
 he never had time for anything but
 gaiety.
 She had suffered long and in silence.
 She had tried hard to be faithful.
 though at times 1t had seemed impos-
 sible to trace even dimly what appear
 ed her duty. And in her silence. the
 great struggle of contending passions
 had crushed underfoot that spark of
 her youth, the element of love and
 respect for the man. In her heart she
 had aged far beyond her years. Now
 she feared, and 1t was bitter fear.
 that the spark was quenched forever.
 A footstep on the gravel attracted
 her. She looked up. A man was com
 ing toward the arbor. It was Wilson.
 She drew back into the shadow, but
 he had seen her. He approached with
 jauntily indifferent air which seemed
 to her at this time to be well-nigh in-
 solent
 Oh that this person. this god of her 1 girlhood, might show something by
 word or action which would even sug-
 gest that integrity and sincerity which
 are the standards of manhood! She felt
 that timely turn might yet revive that
 latent spark, and fan it to a genial
 glow. Would he display something
 deeper than this detestable, happy-go-
 lucky disposition? Why need he be so?