Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1908-03-03
knew the meaning Of the word happi.

"Um-m. You are nappyE ne re
peated T'm SO glad to know 1t, Eu
NICE"
"Of course one constantly sees things
that sadden. No sooner am l deep iI
the enjoyment and interest Of some
pleasure than I am confronted with a
sight of poverty that makes my OWL
possessions seem wholly wrong.
didn't work for this money-why
should l have itT'
"But your father worked for it," he
said, knowing very well lie was instill.
ing false social economy.
"That doesn't make 1t right" she
shook her head.
perhaps not" he granted.
II think" she went on, "that people
would interest me more than anything
else In the world II only they were
real, were themselves; but | have yet
to meet man or woman Of the world
who seems to me genuine-eXcept you
and m" aur:. And Aunt Eunice seems
to be herself only when We are alone.
Perhaps" she suddenly looked up at
him, If 1 saw you with other people
..ou, too, would seem artificial to me
and 10 he acting a part"
There's no telling, Eunice, what
your unclouded eyes would seew
Some thlngs seem so strange" she
went on; Aunt Eunice and all the
people who make up what she calls her
set (meaning sort Of clam are so
hcmmed in by social laws, so ham.
pered on all sides by perfectly meaning
less rules and customs, so taken up
with details which are trivial and un.
essential-and very tiresome to theu.
selves, but which they nevertheless
take heed to--for what reason it Is
hard to make out-that Mt times they
all seem like puppets moving ut the
pull Of string-with no freedom OF
motion ut all and no spontaneity. II
stiles me-"
go on" he urged when she paused.
her fresh impressions interesting him.
81 ask myself sometimes, Is all life
slavery, only In different forms? Ev.
cry one seems to be In bondage OF
some sort. The men of Aunt Eunicc'
clan are slaves to the women; q man
allows himself to become mere mon
ey making machine for no other ap
parent reason than to keep his wife
and daughters in idlencSs or to give
them opportunity to cultivate them
selves. 1t seems that the man doesn't
need time for culture. It's no obiec.
tion to him If he does have some cul.
ture, but 1t must not interfere with
his money making. But the women
for society and other feminine occupa.
tions. Aunt Eunice says that if =
man Is gentleman he will work night
and day to give his wife or daughter
absolute leisure to do rs she pleases.
| don't see the sanity Of 1t or the
Justice. If Il woman does not rear n
family and make home or else work
at some vocation. If she Is simply the
uuu-Nltl VI IL llouStllO4Nl, 5ltliiIil-
time cutivating herself in music ard
literature and gracing social Affairs. o.
what significance is her existence IL
the economy of the universe? What
point has her life:"
She turned to him With her old VII
ful appeal. Thee commonplace pro-
lens. so pew TO her. we're evident
vexinc her sorely.
"Is II perhaps enough Just to be- +
suggested. "if only one lie lovely nj
good and Il delight TO oilers"
But" she objected. lis It possib.a
TO be anything worth while-anrthin
strong and vorthy-wiihout wo.i:. e
fort, responsibility? | am looking o"
at life not to judge and crltlcise. BIZ
only to learn. but sometimes judgmen
Is forced upon me by what | see"
"And perhaps you, with your unso
phisticated @ as. may be able to sc"
deeper truth than is vouchsafed to oil
buffers like us-your aunt and me, ]
mean"
"But," she answered impetuously.
"whatever impresses me ! try to see
through your eyes as well rs my own.
wondering what you would think
about this or that which bewilders or
puzzles me. In everything that do
or see your presence seems to be with
me constantly. I have longed so un-
speakably to have all these experiences
with you actually and not just In
fancy"
Kinross felt the blood surge to his
very forehead. He answered her with
an abrupt question.
"Why did you leave my letter unan-
swered, Eunice"
Her eyes fell. She did not reply at
once.
II couldn't write to YOU"
"And why?"
"Aunt Eunlce kept urging me to
write. She said must express my
gratitude to you for all you had done
for me, but my feeling for you is so
far above gratitude-it Is feeling so
much larger and greater than that.
Yet" she added, her head dropping. 81
could not write of 1t to you, and so
could not write ut all. for there Is to
me sacredness in my feeling for you
which would seem belittled and even
Iesecrated by my not being true to 1t.
I could write to you out Of the fullness
Of my heart or be silent"
He suddenly caught her hand, hang
ing at her side, and clasped 1t in a
grip that hurt her. 'If you had writ,
ten to me out of the fullness Of your
heart, oh, you Incompatible He
checked himself and dropped her fin
gers with an abruptness that made her
feel as though he had flung them off.
Life is such farce, Eunice," he
answered coldly, that, generally
speaking. It IS wiser to do as you did
to refrain from speaking out Of the
fullness of the heart. But what. may
I ask, restrained youT
She looked panied and hurt, both a.
his tone and his words.
II feared" she answered, with
gentle sadness. that | might weary
you, DR.. Kinross"
His laugh sounded to her sardonic.
Weary me? Let me tell you some
thing. The night | saw you off on
your train for New York there was a
sudden drop in my spiritual thermom.
eter that left me torpid, bored. sick to
death Of the not-worth- whileness Of
things. After a few DAYS | wrote to
tn Itself