Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1912-10-12

an aDSuruiy small ran with rich lace
and delicate pearl sticks crushed and
broken. His own hand had wrought
the injury.
All. the pain again! He had not
thought ii possible, for had not his
very soul died that night? Yet there
was the pain. the terrible crashing
agony. Could men suffer like that and
live on?
Aye, man had done II and would He
drew sharp breath. The pain dead
ened into apathy, and the broken fan
slipped from his fingers to the door.
He saw a full southern moon shift
ing light through honeysuckles and
roses while he watched with passionate
ardor the shadows t1ickering across a
beautifully dark face with soft black
eyes and rose leaf lips. There was
the rise and fall OF her low toned con-
tralto as they talked. TO the sound OF
whose music he could listen forever.
He saw a warm southern sun shed
ding light on long delightful days
when life was intoxicatiRgly blissfuI-
days wherein care nor apprehension
nor any doubt found place. days when
/ his upright honorable. clean soul re
joiced in the love of a woman, In the
glory Of perfect womanhood that was
without flaw.
He saw a moonlit night. heavily
scented with jasmine. when his very
heart ached with the perfect Joy of
living-when. in the pale shadows of
arching palm alleys. his perfect JOY
turned to agony. his strong hand
clinched about the fragile toy of lace
and pearl. had crushed 1t as his hopes
We're crushed under the faying scorn
of her voice. under the Indifferent
mockery of her softly luminous eyes.
| Bewildered with pain. he had turned
away with ashen face. He had walk
/ cd miles through the brilliant night,
( every star hanging like n lamp in the
] sky. while the clinging perfume of the
| jasmine flowers that rioted the wayside
hedges overpowered his senses and
numbed his agony for the time.
When the first pink flush of dawn
had spread into the pale morning sky
he had stopped beside a fern edged
pool Hot eyed and weary. he lifted
/
first stupidity. then with growing ap-
prehension and then realization. He
shuddered now as he thought of the
hours. days, months, years that had
followed.
Then had come his meeting with
Constance Vardemond, his warm ad-
miration for her beauty and her sweet,
sound disposition. They had become
the best of friends. They understood
each other perfectly. but he had never
dreamed of marriage. He did not want
to marry any One-now. But some one
had whispered a word. or il material
ICED in the air, for 1t had never evolved
from his modest inner consciousness
that Constance cared.
Stephen Wade did not hesitate. lie
held out his hand and his heart and
his life. and she took them gracefully.
as one who thankfully receives a great
boon. and between them had come q
perfect peace and understanding.
To Stephen, Constance Nardemond
represented the highest type of wo-
manhood that he believed could exist
Beyond that his nature. which had
been hammered into a cool, calm. even
ness Of temperament, did not inquire.
Tomorrow they would be married with
all the pomp and brilliant pageantry
that was part OF such occasions In
their circle. This was the last night
he could open the book OF the past
A deep toned clock chimed the hour.
He passed a hand YEARLY over his
eyes. "Of course it is near dinner
time" lie muttered. And after din
ner there is Constance-it-I believe
this Is customary"
He laughed harshly and picked up
the fan. The simple action seemed to
give vent to some inward storm of
passion. for suddenly he tore the sticks
into fragments and tossed them into
the fire. Then with a fierce cry he
leaned forward and snatched a small
bit from the glowing mass. With scar
ed fingers he clutched the smoky latter
Of lace and splinter of pearl and press
ed it to his lips passionately. Then he
flung it back into the fire
With compressed lips and sullen,
miserable eyes he watched the licking
flames devour his little alI--the only
thing he had cared for I'm the world.
There was a last burst of devouring
flame and then. when not one atom of
his fetch remained. he sprang to his
feet and faced the large photograph of
Constance Vardemond that stood on
the table behind him.
He looked at it with a grave stead
fastness in eyes from which all pas
sion had fed and where nothing but
great peace remained
Constance should never know that
the love he was bringing to her was
make believe. sham. The love she
had chosen to honor him with should
receive its full quota OF deep. earnest
affection. and he would make 1t the
purpose of his life that the woman
who loved him should never guess
lhat he had none 10 give in return.
at Is good to begin life anew" he
smlled confidently.
There was a soft tap at the door
Dinner Is served. Mr.. Stephen"
1 A