The citizen-Republican. (Scotland, Bon Homme County, S.D.) 1???-19??, 1912-04-18
The HEART OF A WOMAN
BY BARONESS ORGY.
Author Of 1The Scarlet PimperneLp "Petteoat Rule,r ETC.
CHAPTER i
WHICH TELLS OF A VERY COM
MONPLICE INCIDENT

- =
WHICH TELLS OF A VERY COM
MONPLICE INCIDENT.
NNo: No; Size was not going to rusni
not even though there was nothing
In the room at this moment to stand
up afterward before her as dumb wit
ness to a moments possible weakness.
Less than nothing in fact; space might
have spoken and recalled that mo-
ment Infinite nothingness might
at some future time have brought
PACK the memory Of it . . but these
dumb, impressive objects! the
fountain pen between her fingers! The
dull, embarrassing hotel furniture COW
cred In red velvet-an uninviting red
mat repealed dreaminess and peace!
The ormolu clock which had ceased
long ago to mark the passage Of time,
Wearied-as it no doubt was, poor thing
by the monotonous burden of a
bronze Psyche gazing on her shiny
brown charms, in an utterly blank and
unrefective bronze mirror, while OBJ
u bemoan1ng the fracture Of one
Of her smooth bronze thighs! Indeed
Louisa might well have given way to
that overmastering feeling Of excite
ment before all these things. They
would neither see nor hear. They
would never deride, for they could new
er remember.
But a wood fire cracked on the small
hearth . . . n /. and those citron
colored carnations We're favortte flow
ers OF his and his picture did
stand on the top of that ugly little
It would never do to gush, for these
Things would see . and, though they
might not remember, they would re-
mind.
And Louisa counted herself one of
n strong ones of this earth. Just
think Of her name. Have you ever
known a Louisa who gushed? Who
called herself the happiest woman on
earth? Who thought Of a man-just
an ordinary man, mind you-as the
best, the handsomest, the truest, the
perfect hero Of romano that ever
threw a radiance over the entire prosy
world of the goth century?
Louisas, believe me, do no such
things. The Mays and the Floras, the
Lady Barbaras and Lady Edithas, look
beatifc and charming when, clasping
raising violet eyes to the patterned
ceiling paper above them, they exclaim:
"Oh, my hero n my king!"
But Louisas would only look ridicul-
GUS If they behaved like that
Louisa Harris, too! Louisa. he
eldest of three sisters, the daughter of
a wealthy English gentleman with a
fine estate in Kent, an assured position,
no troubles. no cares, nothing in her
life to make it sad, or sordid or inter-
est1ng . Louisa Harris and ro-
nance! . . Why, she was not even
pretty. She had neither violet eyes nor
hair of ruddy gold. The latter was
brown and the former were gray.
How could romance come In the way of
gray eyes, and Of a girl named Louisa?
Can you conceive, for instance, one
Of those adorable detrimentals of low
degree and empty pocket who have a
way OF arousing love in the hearts Of
the beautiful daughters of irascible mil
!lonaires, can you conceive such an in
teresting parsonage, I say, falling in
love with Louisa Harris?
!, ! confess that I cannot. To begin
with. dear. kind Squire Harris was not
altogether a millionaire, and not at all
~irascible, and penniless owners of ro-
mantle personalities were not on his
visiting list.
Therefore Louisa, living a prosy life
OF luxury, got up every morning, ate
a copious breakfast, walked out with
the dogs, hunted in the autumn, skated
in the winter, did the London season,
and played tennis in the summer just
as hundreds and hundreds of other
well born, well bred English girls of
average means, average positions, aver
g ~educations, hunt, dance, and play
tennis throughout the length and
breadth Of this country.
There was no room for romance in
such a life, no time for it. . The life
1lSCAL was oo lull full or the
humdrum Of daily rounds, of common
tasks, hat the heart which beat with
such ordinary regularity in the seem
1ngly ordinary breast of a very ordinary
girl did so all unconscious of the in
tense pathos which underlay this very
ordinary existence.
Vaguely Louisa knew that some
where, beyond even the land Of dreams,
there lay, all unknown, all mysterious,
q glorious world of a uni
verse peopled by girlish imaginings,
and the sensitive, creating thoughts Of
poets, by the galloping phantasies of
s~uper-excited brains, and the vague
longings of ambitious souls; a universe
wherein dwelt alike the memories of
those who have loved and the hopes
Of those who suffer. But when she
thought of it all, she did so as one who
from the arid plain gazes on the cool
streams and golden minarets which the
fairy Fate Morgana centuries on the
horizon far away. She looked on it as
all unreal and altogether beyond her
ken. She shut her eyes to the beautiful
mirage. her heart against its childish
~yearnings.
Such things did not exist. They
were not for her-Louisa Harris. The
little kitchen maid at the court who, on
Sunday evenings, went off giggling, her
chubby face glowing with pride and the
result Of recent ablutions, on the arm
~ Jim St> 49, hilC" IllOlC
about that world Of romance than well
bred. well born young ladies ever
dreamed of in their commonplace
philosophy.
And Louisa Harris had always shut
down the book which spoke Of such
impossible things, and counted herself
one Of the strong ones of the earth.
Therefore now. with Luke's letter in
her hand, in which he tells her in a
very few words that he loves her be-
You'd anything on earth, and that he
only waits the day when he can call
her his own, his very ovid dearly loved
wife,, why should Louisa-prosy, healthy
minded, healthy bodied Louisa-sud-
denly imagine that the whole world is
TRANSPORTED ?-that the hotel room is a
kin of ante-chamber to heaven ?-that
the red velvet. uncompromising chairs
are clouds Of a roseate hue and tina,
the bronze Psyche with the broker
thigh is the elusive fairy who, with
Morgana-like wand, hath conjured III
this mirage Of glorious visions which
mayhap would vanish again before
long.
She went up to the window and rest.
ed her forehead against the cool pane