The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1909-02-11
AN AN SW ERED
QUESTION
BY Rose Churchill.

Shall we ever know, l wonder.
In the days that are to be.
What has kept our lives asunder,
Tho our hearts one agree,
Tho our lips would fain caress,
Tho our eyes still mutely bless?
Shall we gladly read life's story,
In the quiet rest of age,
Waiting till heavens final glory
Shines upon each darkened page;
Till We see in fullest light
All now hidden from eur sight?
Or shall We apart still drifting,
AS the shadows round lie
Cease to wait for their uplifting,
Cease for broken toys to cry;
Forcing back each vain regret.
Praying only to forget?
That's a pretty thing they are
playing, dear. What is it called?" Mr.
Blanchard asks us. with sigh Of sat
isfaction. He settles himself more
comfortably in his cushioned rocker
and prepares himself to be sung to
sleep by his daughter Blanche, as is
his usual custom directly after supper.
He is a busy man, headmaster of
high school and coach" to two or
three private pupils besides, and this
is the only recreation he allows him
self. One hour of rest and sleep be-
tween supper and the time for the ar.
| rival of Clinton Drysdale, his most i'm
portant pupil.
Drysdale is reading for Latin exam
ination, on which language Mr.
Blanchard is an authority of high re
pute.
The song is called Questions "
Blanche replied, in an absentminded
way, hurriedly wiping the tears which
have gathered in her eyes, and hiding
the piece in question at the back OF
the music she had arranged in the
rack in front of her.
She plays beautifully, but can sing
well only in the presence of those she
loves and whom she feels love her.
Once she was conscious of singing
her best when Clinton Drysdale was
present, but now strange con
straint had sprung up between them,
and she feels shy, and awkward in his
company. She bushes holly as she
thinks of the way she has allowed her
self to drift, as 1t We're, into an atti-
tude Of appropriation of him, which
she has no right to assume; and de
termines to be stiffness itself in her
future demeanor toward him.
Blanche is a yeritable child of ma
ture,' as most clever women are, and
h., te, p,lA I.,,.
question, having taken science de
gree at the London university,
spending two years in Europe for that
purpose.
When she hears her father make a
little noise in his throat she knows
he has gone to the Land OF Nod"
and takes out Questions" from its
hiding place and gives vent to her
| souls emotion in singing it again and
again. She does not hear the front
door slam behind Clinton Drysdale
who swiftly ascends the stairs to the
drawing-room and stands on the mat
| outside the slightly open door. He
| knows it Is mean to listen, but he can
not resist the temptation.
Thus Blanche finds him, as, with
| "A swift movement, she reaches the
door without making a sound, which
| may awaken her father from his much
| needed slumber. Those ridiculous
| songs always make me cry" she says,
with vain attempt to laugh. 80
they do me-" Clinton said gravely;
but | call them lovely, not rdicu-
ious,' and then by common impulse
they sit down on the stairs (Which are
| conveniently near and Blanche lis
tens entranced to the sweet old
story"
Il thought you did not love me-"
blanche says, presently. shyly CLAN.
cling up at the impassoned face above
her. Your manner was so altered, |
was afraid to speak to you, | thought
YOU must either have cared for me
or seen some one you liked better"
These are your only rivals" Gin
ton says, gently drawing from his
pocket cards and brandy flask. Il
knew, as oil and water cannot mingle,
that you and these things could never
share my devotion. 1t must be one
or the other, and | could not make
up my mind
Il am ashamed to say it, but 1t Is
the truth. | know now that | am
only throwing away the husks and
keeping the kernel, that | have u
treasure that is above rubies."
How do you know that | am "A
ruby" says Blanch. II may be
merely a piece of glass for all you
know"
Yes, you may" says Clinton, and
then they both laugh.