Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-11-13

till the room was furnished and Martha's
rugs in place.
He was up early that day in order Ito
help Amos move in." he explained to his
wife.
1t was Q raw day-cloudy with a strong
north wind and winter seemed in the Air
and when the night began to fall and
James furniture was sparsely distributed
Jane herself being busy In the kitchen),
Stephen lit the fire on his hearth and sat
down before II with q thrill Of satisfac-
ton.
As he gaxed the spell OF that which
he had wrought fell upon him. The first
stanxa Of his poem was being sung by
the roaring flames. On the white walls
the golden light was flickering-and along
the ceiling the shadows Of the tall and
irons danced grotesauely, Familiarity. as
Of old. The mantel with its carven fig
ures and its candles and vases seemed
unchanged. The song OF the elms outside
was the same.
Tears dimmed his eyes. a big lump filled
his throat. FQr a moment he had the
exaltation Of the artist. He seemed TO
have triumphed over times DEGREES as
the poet does. 1t appeared that he had
actually restored his home, reconstructed
the past. SO that Martha might at any
moment steal into the room, light Of step
as of old, to sit on the arm of his chair
and to ask with that tenderness Of SYM
pathy which always melted his heart.
Tired, Stephen?' and lay her cheek
against his shoulder.
He loved Serbia; he honored and cared
for her as the mother Of his children; but
Martha was the wife Of his youth. the
Madonna Of his dreams. She was asso-
ciatsd with the mystery of his life, the
dew Of his morning. The whole earth
was young that marvellous May when they
two adventured into this suave and fertile
land. The perfume of wild honey, the
song Of larks in fiowery meadows lay in
her name, and around her fireplace still
fingered such heartiness Of cheer. such
neighborliness as the world no longer
knew. Oh. those glorious pioneer days!
He sat SO long in dreams that the red
sky and fire grew gray and the good peo-
pie in the kitchen became uneasy. and
Amos came and brought a lamp. and then
with an absent-minded smile the dreamer
rose, stiff with the chill of age, and went
back to his acknowledged home. to the
wife Of his present.
He came again the next day. and the
next, and the next, reperusing with mar
ticulate pain and pleasure his story n
stone and steel, his epic in pungent pine.
basking in the glow Of his fire. forgetting
his gray nair and nerveless limbs in the
magic Of the flame. From these secret
delicious excursions into the past, these
communions with the dead, he returned
to his wife and daughter with reluctance,
with a certain guilty fear. Without mean
ing to be disloyal. he began to find Sc
rilla's brusque ways in,oierable. and had
moments when he resolved to keep his
secret. He shrank from her sharp voice,
her prosaic and harsh comment. He was
like q bridegroom. jealous of the very
name Of his love.
Amos had guessed Stephens proprietor
ship Of the house, but being a man OF
perception. he had cauuoned his wife to
yield no hint Of their secret knowledge;
and Jane was not merely discreet: she
was sympathetic. She added in many lit
tie ways to Stephens enjoyment Of his
home. The fire was always blasting on
the hearth when he came in. and he was
left alone for the most part; only upon
invitation did she enter the room to sit
with him before his shrine.
This understanding was mutual. Stephen
knew that they were in possession Of his
secret, but he gave no outward sign; in
deed, he kept up the fiction by greeting
them as his hosts, and even went so far
as to discuss the coming of ''the owner"
in the spring. He always expressed graft
tude for q chance to sit against the fire.
II don't know what I'll do when you
move out" he said once. well, I'll have
one comfortable winter. anyway" he
ended.
Serbia deeply resented his truancy.
which she ascribed to the influence OF
Jane Kittredge, and a barrier OF dis
trust and defense had risen between them.
Cariss. involved with the young life Of the
village, gave very little thought to the
matter, though she occasionally defended
her father. IF he gets any fun out of
Aunt Jane, let him." she rather fiippantly
remarked: and the tone Of her plea did
not incline Stephen to confide In her. John
would understand, but he hesitated about
writing TN wait till he comes up a.
Christmas" he decided.
His old cronies found him distinctly less
companionable, more remote. A settled
sadness. a growing reserve difficult OF
analysis. had come into his daily greet
ing. He told few stories, he was less
often at the grocery store. and his laugh
was seldom heard.
All this change they referred to Ill
health, and their comment was gentle and
commiserating
Stephen IL failin' fast" remarked
Pitcher, one day. 1.-The cold weather
seems to drip him. It wouldn't surprise
me to hea- any day that he was taken
fat down. doubt II he stands many
more Of these winters"
Hiram looked up with smile which
wa. at once defiant and wistful. We're
all in the same boat and driftin' the same
way" he said: and then they spoke with
resolute cheer Of the weather and the
price Of hrewood.
November passed without any change Of
plan On Stephens part, and December
was halfway gene before he broke
silence. Being moved by q letter from
John, he suddenly said one night. quito In
his old. hearty way. Il tell you what you
do, Amos. You and Jane send out invita-
tioas to John and Alberts folks and to ell
Of Serilia's kin. bidding 'em all 70 .
Christmas dinner. Say to the boyD that.
seems their mother hain't got room
enough. I'm kind O. goin' In With you
here. You can say I'm helplne cut On tho