The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1906-05-05
HIS WIFE'S
RETURN ~
Nv cosMo HAMILTON
Copyright, 1906, by Joseph B. Bovsas.)

In the living-room Of his bungalow
ne found a Yetter and cable. The let
Ter, in his wife's large, rather care
less writing. sent warm glow through
him. He bounced upon it eagerly, heid
1t in front of him for moment, ana
then, with a smile, sagely decided TO
read the cable first. The letter snouio
serve as the olives.
He lit a pipe, flung singing oath
at the sleepy punkah-wallah, crossed
to the mantelboard, on which q row
of candles burned, and carefully
opened the envelope of the cable with
a penknife.
1t was dated from London, and ran
as follows:
Don't read my letter. Sailing to-
day.-Milly."
He read it two or three times. Was
It a joke? 1t commended itself as an
expensive one for the wife of minor
commissioner.
Don't read my letter. Mile all
over, by Jove! What letter? Not
His eyes fell upon the one he was
holding. The one he was saving. The
one that was to serve as the olives.
Don't read my letter. Why not!"
he asked aloud, as though his wife
were in the room. "What do you
mean? This is the first I've had from
you for three mails, and you promised
before you went home never to miss
writing. Don't read my shall,
most distinctly, l shall. Why did you
write it, IL it wasn't to be read?"
But he put the thick-looking envel-
ope against the clock, thrust his hands
into his pockets and took four PAGES
back.
Cliffe was a one-love man. Wom-
en- had not entered into his calculations
until Nellie had come into his life, and
taken his heart in both her hands. He
had taken love as seriously as he had
taken his examinations, and, having
married, his wife had become the only
woman in the world. His three years
of married life had been so far as he
was concerned, extremely happy. He
had never stopped to ask himself
whether his work or his wife came
first. His work was necessary. His
wife essential. And he had never
stopped to ask himself whether his
wife was happy. Hadn't she
married him? Was she the sort
of woman who entered into so serious
a compact as marriage with man she
wasn't quite sure she loved?
Like all one-love men, like all men
who take themselves and everybody else
seriously, he was a jealous man. He
had no patience with discomfort. He
could not tolerate f1abby- mindedness.
He gave no other woman thought.
1t was impossible for him to under
stand the necessity of his wife's ever
giving a thought to any other man.
He worked to the best of his power,
and he loved to do the best in his pow
er, and he thanked Heaven daily for
his work and for his wife.
He was just and sympathetic man.
He was the kind of man who carves a
niche for himself in history, but he
had the greatest contempt for senti.
mentality, and no patience with neu-
roticism. He divided men and women
into two classes, good and bad. The
former, when they came into his work
or his life, he looked upon as part OF
the great machine working to one end
The latter he waved aside. He cult
waited a wide optimism, a wholesome
belief In honesty, faith, truth and
friendship. Deep down in his nature
however, there ran a curious vein OF
cynicism.
He stood for an hour looking at the
letter. His dinner was brought in; his
servants stood ready to serve it. He
ignored the fact. His whole mind was
concentrated on the letter Why was
he not to read 1t? If it contained
something his wife was ashamed of
Why had she written 1t, in the frs
place? II 1t contained something in
tended to give him pain, why, at The
last moment, had she telegraphed, t.
prevent his feeling.it?
e,EXtrel0e dTHoyduCt dl uciuS tTluct
With was all he felt for the first hour
Il was merely some foolishness on hi!
uife's part, some extravaganza, som,
act Of sentimentality, he argued. Blu
presently the cynic in him began {,
make grimaces, and all sorts of low
and horrid thoughts capered through
his brain.
He ordered the motionless servants
out of the room. His indomitable self
restraint left him. That mos. mali
eious demon. Jealousy, walked arm il
arm with him up and down the room
for hours. But the temptation to opel
the letter was withstood.
At two in the morning he went I,
bed, worn out, sick of himself, sicl
of everything. Tire letter remained
unopened. against the face of tn
clock. II this man had had no jeal
ousy In his nature, he would have been
as men go, what is called fine fellow
He would have been able to allow tn
letter to stare him In the face, da,
after day, with absolute unconcern
His wife didn't wish him to read it
very well, it should not. be read. Un
fortunately, Goland was not more ieaI
Gus of Melisand than was Cliffe of hi
wife. Struggle as he might. conceu
trate his attention on the details of hi
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