The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1909-09-09
THE MIRAGE OF THE PLAINS.

THE MIRAGE OF THE PLAINS.
The nett day, when she was packing
her books. her hair disheveled, her fin
gers dusty, the hallboy brought card.
There was some self -distrust in her
frown; but she told the boy to bring up
the caller, and went on packing.
Henri Duruy sat down unlimited. care
you moving?" he asked.
Eyes" she answered, with. sort of
uncertain challenge in her voice; eyes,
Pm moving"
II thought you liked these rooms"
He had an insistent way of making an
Indifferent remark. At the moment his
eye swept the view from the window.
She followed his glance with hers, but
made no eXplation
IF you will glance over the contract
and sign it, he said, looking at her.
''The places and dates are here You
are to open in the north this season.
The pallor that came to her cheek was
noticeable, and she put her hands ON the
arms of her chair for a moment, then
leaned forward. look of exultation
shining in her black eyes. Henri" she
said, II am not going to sign any con-
tract this year,"
He was used to hesitation. 'Well,
why not?"
Il am not going to sing any more in
in public" she said, slowly.
He started back aghast for moment
Then a humorous look stole into the
keen black eyes.
"Who is he?" he asked.
| bo nd
not frantic. "It is all so artificial, this
striving for new phases of appre-
citation, for fresh honors. L want the
real life''
"Ah!" there was contempt, a volume
of it, in her tone; realities attract
your"
'eYes," she said sharply, because Of
his sarcasm; Il leave tomorrow for a
real world, place where love is, and
home and freedom
For you," he answered, "that can be
only mirage. Your realities lie in your
voice, in your power, in your surround
ings. Keep the other for a vision, my
lady,"
She did not seem to hear him. and
spoke quickly. "You see, l must sur
render all that is mine to 90 into the
4 QUIET WOIlu. ne muSG live Ou UIlc pldluo,
going where his work takes him. I can
not even take these books and pictures.
But / am glad to go-I cannot wait to
start! Today am putting these things
of the old world into their coffins." She
pointed to the open boxes and laughed.
His face narrowed in its intensity.
| You are vida mystic with a dream!"
Il am a primeval woman" she said.
II will not stay here longer! [ love
himl"
'.Your logic is perfect, but know that
| you will come back to your world. These
| things are a part of you," he looked
about the room "the noises in the
street, the applause at night, the smell
of wet pavements--" He rose and Of
sered her his hand. Il do not envy him.
If you love him, let him come into your
world; enjoy your primeval visions
where you can awake from them" His
eyes lost their look of amusement, and
he measured his prophecy against her
faith "You will not stay away many
months And [ am always your friend,
though I may have to fill your engage
ment for this year with someone else"
When he had gone she went back to
the books and packed them as though
they were hot things that scorched her
| fingers.
BY sea, and racing across the eastern
states, watching the prairies roll away
from the window, she recalled the
prophecy. She drew long breath of re-
lief that she was free from the world of
the prophet and out in the world of
real things. She exulted in her freedom.
Had she not surrendered all her things,
all her friends and associates, her sue
cesses, with joyous content in her
strength? Was she not stronger than
most women, and was she not approach
ing love with triumph of soul?
She was vibrant as she sat there and
remembered how the struggle had first
begun; on board ship, when he had
touched her hand as it lay OF the rail,
when they had looked into the darkness
of the night over the darkness of the
sea. She had swayed toward him and
kissed him, and then caught snatches
of his incoherent love words. She was
singer that had won, a woman whose
name was before the people of two con-
tinents. He knew that, and had asked
nothing of her beyond the moment. It
would not be right to ask her love, he
had said
/ AM Une IeCCoTS ne ndQ WrlIJon from
his field of duty asked nothing of her,
though they were full of his loneliness.
He wrote of the plains, of the silence
out there, of his willingness to live alone
if she would only let him hear from her
now and then. In words he had never
asked her to come to him. but she was
sure of his desire.
Mountains and valleys and prairies,
she had seen before; the plains She bad
never seen. She waited for them i'm
patiently, and in the morning, when
she saw them luminous in the dawn,
full of mystery, stretching away as far
as sea stretches, she lay quiet lii her
berth and watched the colors spread
toward her from the horizon All day
she watched the colors-they made
song for her; they were full of motion.
She saw herself riding horseback
through the heliotrope haze toward the
distant, dim lined mountains. She saw
purple smoke rising from her own tent
that lay shining in the midst of the
color.
At sunset her breath came faster. she
sang to herself in the rhythm of the
wheels that rushed on to the destination
She pictured morning ride to the camp,
and the surprise of the man who had
been so lonely. She planned that they
should be married at sunset.
! The beauty of the hotel, built like an