The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1908-06-11

isfaction. Clement, It was true. play
ed the role of country gentleman with
outward success, but 1t was as clear
as daylight to her watchful eyes that
he was anything but satisfied. Not
that he ever complained. and when
once or twice she questioned him she
could get no admission from his lips
that he was discontinued with his
manner of life.
But month by month he grew more
silent, more Indifferent to the small
social functions Of the neighborhood.
and more cynical In his speech. He
spent hours in his garden and In the
library reading and smoking. when he
might have been presiding at fancy
fairs and attending garden parties.
The long summer days with absolute
ly nothing to do bored him; the long
winter evenings threatened to become
intolerable.
He was conscious himself of a
vague unrest, a haunting sense of
something Notwithstanding that
should give him interest to life and
lift the growing burden Of snnui from
his shoulders.
On the day in question he had felt
too bored to talk and too indolent to
stir out Of the house. There was moth
ing to GO out of the house for. The
ground was so sodden with a fort
nights rain: the skies were dark and
lowering; the sea was shrouded in a
gray mist; the trees stood up bare and
gaunt against a background of brown
hills. The whole aspect of Nature
was melancholy in the extreme.
Once or twice he had gone to the
window and stood with hands in peck
cts, looking out over the depressing
landscape. A melancholy yew tree
dripped innumerable tears on the
sodden lawn: a robin hoped discon-
solately under the window. At the
end of n Of the graveled paths a
couple of star'ings were fighting over
a worm; a green-eyed cat was waiting
to spring a dozen yards away.
Each time he had turned back to
his easy chair by the fire with a sigh.
His mother and sister found interest
In looking after the affairs OF the
house; in making doyleys and darning
socks, and in seeing that the meals
were properly prepared: but he had
nothing to do. That was the trouble;
though had any one asked him what
allied him he would scarcely have been
able to give an ineligible answer.
He was thankful when the time
came to go upstairs to dress for din
ner. It was a change to don a fresh
suit Of clothes, and there was a glim-
mer of interest in specializing what
kind Of Joint would appear on the
table.
He s~auntered down stairs before
the gong sounded, with his hands in
his pockets and his eyes expressive OF
utter WEAKNESS and discomfort. He
had never before felt himself so deep.
ly in the slough Of despond, and he
say no way out.
Then suddenly-mufied and insis-
tinct-broks the signals of distress
upon his ears, and he was alert in a
moment. At last there was something
to call him out of doors-something to
stir his sluggish blood. His dinner
might wait or go untasted, his brier
might lie untitled on the library man
telpiece, his dress suit might be crush.
ed by his heavy overcoat or spoiled by
salt water-nothing mattered. The
signals were calling him and he must
go.
The fog was settling into a soaking
drizzle when he left the house; the
night was intensely dark. Leaving the
main road after he had gon a few
hundred yards he struck out across
the fields and made a bee-iine for the
cliffs. The rockets had ceased firing
now, and the only sound that broke
the stiffness was the low booming OF
the waves among the rocks. He won
derea what had happened. Had the
vessel f~oundered, or was she jammed
on the rocks? II the latter there
might be no loss of life, but il the
former, then another huge grave
might have to be dug In st. Chloe
churchyard.
ITO Be ~continued.)