The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1909-04-17

0lC words difference IN the two inscriptions. and
yet what a world of difference it made. His mem
Dry of Madgc was evidently To him thing apart
from that nf all the world Was she dead. too. and
was his great heart buried with her! Who was this
man who could write to touch her heart and
awake all the old-time music with harmony that
was pain! His books all signed with nom
de plume, and the secret Of his identity had been
well kept. She knew it was Il man, for he wrote
with touches of power such seldom falls to the
lot Of woman
Then, too, his heroine unmistakably a
mans woman, and the action Of his plot vigorous
enough for a Dumas.
"Ah, happy Madge,' she thought, ito have such
tribute as this work of genius laid at your feet
She such Il lonely woman!
Successful IN her work, sought after every am
bltion gratiiied, yet what did all amount to! She
womany woman, with all true woman's
longing for home and love. There were men who
admired her and earnestly tried to win her hand.
Often was she tempted to accept the love she could
not give, but ever there arose between her and the
one who sought her the face of her lover, long
since gone from this life He had been proud and
masterfu and he had loved her passionately. She
was as proud as he. and when his people told her
she would be drag upon him, that he was far
above the daughter of poor Canadian village doe
tor she had sent him away from her.
Then her father had died and left her to sup
port the little family and poverty well nigh stared
them III the face She had come to the city to
work and he, the one for whom she would have
given her life thought that she gave him up for
ambition, that she might become famous in the
great world Fame Ambition! What did they
amount to! She thought bitterly of it all and muir
INJURED again: Il wish | had not read the book.
But" with little shrug, there's little story
in itl'
So, hurrying homeward. the professional in
stinct strong within her. she wrote till midnight
a story strong and simple full of the human inter
est which makes story. She wrote vt we'll with
,vbi l,or
which seemed TO strike the varying chords of hui
man emotions and bring forth harmony as mas
ter hand evolves hawless music from the bow of
the violin. She called her story 1.-The Happy Val
ley-Ihat of Death" and it of the happy
Madge who died. loved and remembered. and of
another Madge who lived alone, 1t was only the
telling of it which made it great, but it came
straight from womans heart, and i'll writing it
she forgot her sadness and grew content
Two weeks later she was back at the Office hard
at work. her cool, somewhat cynical self again.
half inclined to repent the writing of the story I'M
til check from noted editor, and fatterng
letter assured her that it was good.
Her busy life went and the winter came
and went. One day in early spring when the ma
pies in the park began to show their tender shoots
OF pink, and few snowdrops bravely sought the
arr she found in her mornings mail letter adj
dressed in bold. masculine writing.
She opened it i'll some curiosity as to who was
writing to her over her pen name, and read:
Dear Madam: OF all the reviews of my late
book, The Wand of the Gentle yours has given
me the most pleasure You seem to read nv char
acters as through my own eyes, and to appreciate
my motive as though it your own.
i shall be IN your city within few weeks. and
should be glad to meet you A line to me at my
publishers will reach me, if you will allow me to
call Very truly yours, JOHN BROWNE.
Dec. ), 1900"
She smiled as she saw the pen name of the
great man, wondering that he had not signed him
self differently, but She replied cordially:
My Dear Mr.. Browne: Your letter has
reached me today. and | am pleased to know that
my review has given you pleasure. [ shall be happy
to see you when you in the city, and especially
as | am indebted to you for the idea of my little
story, The Happy Valley in this months Pacific
Magazine Very sincerely,
"MARGARET ST. ANGE.
She wondered idly whether he would come. and
then. in the press of Christmas work. she forgot
his very existence until his card was brought to her
one day.
Bring the gentleman in" she said to the of.
fee boy rising courteously as a tall, broad-shoul-
dered man, with white hair and a strong kindly
face, entered
He closed the door behind him and came swiftly
toward her, she looked at him with eyes in which
recognition swiftly grew to life, but she spoke not
a word
Long ago I knew that | nisjudged YOU. he
said gravely. viii you forgive me?"
Long ago forgave you" she smiled
Il have always loved you, longed for you. even
when | doubted" he went on. For years [ tried
to find you, but there was no trace till saw YOUR
review of my book. [ knew that only you could
have understood me. In your story l thought |
read between the lines that you were still my
Madge. Will you come back to me- Dear, come
and be more than memory"
And she went to him as simply as little child
When the author of ''The Wand of the Gentle
published his nexs romance people wondered at the
strangeness of the dedication, for it read:
"To Reality Which Was Memory"
Mary f. Nixon Roulet In New World
To Poppy Land.