Evening star., 1909-05-16


m women could ever I've satisfied with me!
Then Jerome would pat her check rs il she
was child, and gaze with mu>ing smile 1t the
picture that held the secret
THIS in outline was John Nug,nts story
When he had finished reading it and looked
at Emily, he her sitting with red. unhappy
face and eyes cast down
Well, he said, what do y"" think "t It,
my aear:'
It's very we'll done" she answered gloonlilv
But YOU don't like it.
Isn't it rather hard me, the dull little
person'"
But it isn't You. You'r re not liS, that "
oh | always recognize myself IN Your
stories, John ! know I'm dull. I've never
minded that and being laughed At kindly Tor 1t.
the way YOU We done so often before lfer hp
quivered. But this time-c"ntraStng me SO
with that other yirl-who really meant so
much more to You, Don't you see: She
looked at him piteously .
Don't say YOU and me that way! It's
:, piece of fiction. he cried. " Don't talk about
It as if it was all Autobiography.
But SO much OF II Is so obviously autohi"-
graphic that everyone Will say
-fWhy only that. | started III Ia be a
painter and gave it up to become u writer, the
story was IN a way suggested hy my own ex-
perience But that of no Importance len
me dear lust as a piece q. work. how docs 1t
strike YOU.
"Oh. it's very good ,lo think. though. YOU
might modify your man :. httie to make nm
nicer 1t is Just II you'd ovtr;ictontcd ali the
worst sides ot yourself ami dWel on hpthinS
Else "
We'll. | will ! think You may lie right.
about that See how | take Your criticism !!
Don't tell me you're dull httlc woman
Ue gave her a kiss: but ii reminded her "i the
mtulyent pat on the cheek that Jerome gave To
his wife-as ii she was q child.
Emily made no further protest She enter
tanned so great respect for art ana creative
labor that she was bound to condnne any mere
nffense against her personal SenSIbIlitleS. But
she could not help brooding over the story 1t
was the first time her husband had ever done
anything unfeeling: YES, she dld think II was
almost brutal She dull. and apparently he
thought her So dull that she wouldn be wounded
hy the mention of the fact Yet remembering
how eagerly and happily he had toicd proeiuc-
inp the very thing that had wounded her, she
could not charge him with intentional cruelty
No it was Just the thoughtless, needless ruth
icssness OF the artist and perhaps IN recognizing
herself so distinctly She was hvpersensitive.
When | gave him the picture. and IN Il way
suggested the story to him. too, t. have II al
end on the subject of my dullnessl" she thought,
vet with unreproachful acceptance OF her tate
TWO days later when she sitting alone
l in the room, sudden impulse seized her
She mounted cautiously upon the desk and
took the engraving down from the wall She
turned it over The back was covered with a
out little She pressed it and felt under 1t
the padded softness OF letters
hot flush swept over her tacc her heart
began to beat fur ouSly. With the haste ot
guilt she rehung tie picture and slipped down
to the floor She sank into char teelIng FAINT,
with her heart still beating wildly The flush
vanished: with pale face she lay back and
Iosed her eyes
1t was all clear enough to her now! She
called the look that had seemed queer when he
had expressed wonder as to whether she would
like the story He had had the etfrontcry
and cvnicism tn write the whole truth out be-
fore her eves,-trusting To her dullncss not to-
discover it: emphasizing her dullness III the
end
They had been married three Years, and he
had never told her of this other woman he had
loved whom perhaps he still loved,-who was
at least still the Of his inspiration and
gave him much that his wife could never give.
She, his wife, had always been the duh, doll
like little girl in his stories, condescendingly
petted or gently ridicued' Those visions of
fair and clever women, tit companions of the
heroes were never inspired by her. and yet she
had had so MANY moments of shy Joy thinking
that perhaps to his enchanting and enchanted
eyes she did reveal those qualities
Anger against the woman selzed her. Who
could she be, Emilv'S brain raced back
The course OF her married life: there
she could even suspect. John had never shown
ANYTHING but the most ordinary and conven-
;ional interest IN any woman but her He had
been loving and devoted in every manifestation
e,f life She had been happy, Yet she