The Washington herald., 1911-03-08

Ethel Maynard sat over her FIRE and
shivered, but it was not altogether the
cold that made her draw so near to the
small CRATE. Keen as was the evening
air, the thought of the appalling desola-
ton and loneliness of her life as it pre-
sented itself TO her mental vision struck
a deeper chill.
Ethel was brave enough. She had faced
difficulties and poverty before with cour-
age. almost with cheerfulness. Even now,
she told herself. she could be brave if
the memory Of other Christmas Ewes
would not keep coming so haunungly
before her. or if she could feel the small
est promise of success in the future stir
within her. But with visions Of past hap
piness stabbing at her heart, a sense Of
numbness and inefticiency pressing on her
brain, she felt goaded almost to despair.
Last Christmas Eve she had been alone,
but the world had looked very different
Then she had been filled with new, ex-
ulting sense Of freedom, of release from
something which had become weIl-nigh
intoIerable; misery had been choked by
what she thought to be righteous indigna-
ton; she had felt the throb of genius
alive within her, painting to be at work
Now that throb was still: it seemed as If
she could never write again. There was
no indignation left to fight down the ever
swelling waves of misery, and she alone
was to blame
No; not that! All the old rebellion rose
within her Harold was to blame as
much as she-more so. With her had
lain the initial mistake of marrying him,
that was all. Fool, fool that she had
been to imagine for one moment that her
Pegasus and his jog-trot hack would ever
ambIe peaceably together in double har-
ness. And yet
Her mind went back to the days OF
their wooing. and she realized once more
the supplemented uprightness. the honest
devotion. the steadfast courage which had
called to her in the past 1t called to
her now. In spite of herself she felt
old throbs of admiration and love rise
within her. She must admire the man
who, by sheer perseverance and pluck,
had carved a niche for himself in this
overcrowded world. and who, by dogged
love and faithfulness, had won her for
himself. Literally in the past he had
forced her to love him, and that love still
rang true as far as it went But it did
not go far enough.
Where the heart lies let the brain lie
also"
The words repeated themselves mock
ingly over and over again in her brain,
as they had done many and many a
time before. There was the secret of the
whole thing. Her brain could never rest
where her heart lay. Had she been Of
less strong intellect it would not have
mattered perhaps; she might have been
content to give up alHeven the joys of
her career-for loves sake. But she was
not built like that Her brain was the
strongest part of her. Her whole nature
demanded scope for her powers, room
to develop them, a sympathy which
Harold, for all his love, was incapable
OF giving.
And so their lives had gone awry. It
was inevitable. The little things of life
were of such vital Importance to Harold;
to Ethers Bohemianism they were mere
boredom. She liked the household to run
on oiled wheels, but she could not worry
If cook oversalted the soup or the house
maid scratched the furniture, and because
such things left her in unruffied serenity,
they seemed to worry Harold all the
more.
1t began with little annoyances, little
sharp speeches, little hurts and stabs
that ranked, and the pain was all the
sharper because of the love which lay
below. Soon they were quarreling-dis-
putting, rather-and making it up with
tears; but after while 1t went beyond
that The apologies and steps toward
reconciliation on either side grew lamer
every time, faltered, and finally stopped
Sometimes the position would be
smoothed over by some short explanation,
sometimes the latest dispute would be
mutually ignored. in spite of inward re-
bellings and unhappiness. Ethel could
have borne IT better, she thought. had
they quarreled ON some really vital issue,
something more worth the pain 1t caused
II Harold could only for one instant see
ii all from her point of view. IL he could
only once peep with comprehending eyes
into the world her intellect loved, she
could have gone on her way rejoicing.
/, AS il was, she trod her path in life with
weary, stumbling feet. conscious OF a
great bitterness in her soul. because her
work was being nampered and spoiled by
the frets and jars of everyday. 1t was
hard to feel great thoughts stirring with
in her, great truths OF life calling for
expression, and instead of giving them
free play. to have TO fight down petty
annoyances, and hurt. indignant. rebel
Iious murmurinss. Yet. IN spite OF AL the