The Olneyville times. (Olneyville [Providence, R.I.]) 1887-1917, 1909-01-29
Cupid and Pegasus.
BY Jean Meyers.


|
, So they two" were betrothed, and
Christmas Day was TO see gay we'd
ding from the Roberts homestead.
There seemed no reason. then. in
Miss Roberts history for this over
whelming grief. What could the
heart OF woman ask for beyond a
luxurious home, fond parents and a
devoted lover? The average maiden
might well ask this question, but
Helen Roberts was not an average
maiden. Her soul craved literary
distinction. and for some years she
had been filling a morocco-bound al
bum with scraps Of verse, which set
forth in rime and unreason the va
rious longings and grieyings with
which the heart of youth is supposed
! TO be filled. There was a rondeau
on violets, and (tell it not in Bohe-
| mia) there was one, only one, ode to
! spring. There was a heartbroken
! poem entitled IF Death Would
Come" and there were various lyrics
Of the "Vanitas Vanitatum" order.
1t was all very well for a hapless
domestic worries of 700 Mrs. Solo
mons, to sit down some centuries ago
and record his blase views in the
first chapter of Ecclesiastes. But
why healthy girl, whose digestive
organs had never known pang, and
who had seen only the brightest side
Of nineteenth century civilization,
& cf oh 70 t,
weigh against the hollowness Of
things in general, is a problem that
no weak man will ever solve. Helen
Roberts was woman of liberal edu-
cation and good literary taste. But
she was neither born nor made
poet, and while her guardian angel
had his back turned she sent her
small collection Of verse to New York
and paid substantial sum for hav-
ing the said collection published. The
book, in exterior. was all that could
be desired. The cover was delicate
cream in hue, and a bunch Of purple
violets was scattered artistically in
the right-hand corner, while in heavy
letters Of gold was the word "Rever-
les" The publication Of this volume
was a profound secret, and Helen in
tended 10 wait for the plaudits Of the |
critics before she revealed herself as
the brilliant young author whose |
impassioned and lofty verse has lifted |
her suddenly into fame"
On that afternoon in October she !,
had recognized with many a hutter |
a short notice Of her volume under |
Book Notices" in the Stiletto. She |
had taken the review to her own |
room and there had read what |
seemed TO her a most ruthless judg- |
ment. The critic. in two brief para
graphs, had mercilessly ridiculed the |
'Reveries," while he had insultingly |
praised the paper, the type and the |
pretty cover, not forgetting to notice
the realistic effect of the violets.
THE writer has screened herself |
behind the name 'Veritas.' We say
herself advisedly, because a woman.
and one not far from the romantic
friendships Of school days, is evident
ly the writer Of these touching stan
zas. There is no real passion in the
sonnet My Hero but the last four
lines dwindle into sickly sentiment.
The author is plainly a victim Of the
tender passion, but the object OF her
regard is to be pitied, if her conver-
sation is after the loving manner of
her verse"
Helen felt as If she could never
take pleasure in life again, but when
3 o'clock struck she raised her head
from the tear-stained pillow and re-
membered that Harvey was to take
dinner with them.
After dinner DR.. Roberts hurried
away and Mrs Roberts excused her
self ON the plea Of a visit TO a sick
friend So Helen and her lover had
the library to themselves. and Har-
vey, as he settled himself in a large
armchair, thought that he was indeed !
a fortunate man i'm having such a
chair, such a CRATE fire and such a
sweetheart After they had been |
talking tor some time he took up the .
Stiletto, which had been lying on
the table. Helen had carried it down !
stairs before dinner, holding 1t at |
arms length.
us there anything good in the ,
Stiletto this month";"
1T is magazine that | do not Of |
ten read" said Helen. stidly.
Harvey looked a little surprised |
at her chilly tone and said:
81 thought it had usually some |
good articles. A friend of mine is |
managing editor, and may as we'll |
conlide to YOU a little secret. The |
man who usually writes the column |
of book reviews was sick this time |
and Jameson, the manager, asked |
me 60 take the work"
Helen's usually we'll controlled |
heart gave a bound. and, after huctu-
atng for five seconds. settled in her |
throat.