Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1907-12-19

away from her In an instant, even
while the kisses Of her lover were
upon her lips,
Il couldn't help loving you dear, but
1t is only fair to both of US that you
should know 1t would have been
wrong to have gone on any longer in
the way we have, growing nearer and
dearer to one another almost hourly.
wrong and cruelty unfair to you
''Oh, it doesn't matter, nothing real
ly seems to matter much now. But ]
am glad, oh. SO glad, you told me; I'm
glad to have lived this one gloriously
happy week. Glad that you were
courageous enough to tell me. II
would have killed me to have learned
it from ahother's lips. Kiss me just
once, dear, and then go quickly,
quickly, before l call you back"
A long, long time Ruth had sat with
her face buried in her flowers locking
with hopeless eyes into the future,
seeing nothing but the weary vista of
months and years of sorrow, bitter
ness and disappointment.
Strange that at this time the thought
Of the pigeonhole story should come,
to her.
Mr.. Brown was right. l didn't
know what love was; perhaps l cas
rewrite that story now. Surely | know
enough of love and sorrow to lie able
to do that" The thought came like
an inspiration, just a bit of saving
grace, perhaps, from her guardian an
gel.
On the evening train she went back
to the city, but weeks elapsed before
she could bring herself to look at the
story that now seemed to mock at
her out of a far off past. At last, how
ever. she had rewritten it and mailed
it to the publishers. Presently she
had received note of acceptance and
an order for another, but with injunc-
ton to have it in slightly happier
vein than the last
Happier vein, happier vein, oh, all
knowing editor, do you think women
who are broken hearted can write in
happy vein?
Poor little GIRL had unused Brown
when he read it. I'm afraid some
thing has happened. Well, it's none
of my affair. Love was bound to come
into her life: it wasn't my criticism
that caused it"
A year later Ruth sat alone in the
library reading the fattering criticisms
of the serial that had brought her
countless requests for future stories.
The remembrance of that first visit
to the big publishing house crossed
her mind.
Yes, Mr.. Brown was right. / need
ed experience; the story is better than
it was at first, but / wonder If all
successful people purchase their fame
at so great price. / wonder if they
all suffer as l have suffered during
these unhappy months"
A sharp, imperious ring interrupted
her musings. A voice in the hall ask
ing for her-could it be-no, of course
1t was only a fancy-what would he
be doing here? And then the curtains
parted.
Ruth, Ruth darling. at last I've
come ana I've a right 10 De mere.
Seven months ago tonight God ended
Alice's sufferings and sweetheart I've
stayed away. I've fought temptation
because l knew you would not want
me to come sooner. I've waited, wait
ed, waited all these weary months I'M
til the time l dared to come"
Late in the evening they sat plan
ming their future, looking ahead into
the days when they would be together
for all time. when the white-capped
maid entered. Miss Ainslie, Mr..
Brown called up on the phone and
said not to disturb you il you were
busy. but would you please and get at
that other story soon as you can and
make it a happier ending than the
last one"
"A happier ending-do you think
you can dear?"
But an answer wasn't necessary;
they both knew that there wouldn't
be any more stories with unhappy end
ings.