The Holbrook news., 1914-09-18

WITH AWAKENED EYES
By SYLVIA ST. JOHN.

Hdh6Q, eternal, LerrlDle ana never to-be-ended, had cast a sudden pail over his world, and his soul, smitten with the emptiness of it's delights. reached out for something real-some- thing that would endure. He found the girl. She had waited for her lover-the strong man of her dreams all her life. True, it was but a lit tie tale of childish years at best, and when the boy-the boy with the soiled soul and the sin-smeared life told her of his love (and, indeed, he thought that he loved her), she questioned not, but gave herself to him, gladly and freely.
 For little while all was well. The boy kept the memory of the shroud, the marble brow, the pulseless breast, the nameless terror of the hereafter; and the girl wife, so calmly unafraid, was love and life to him.
 But slowly the vision faded. The din of the world broke in upon him the noise of the tumult that he loved. | Clamorous voices called to him, and would not be denied. The girl wife. with her artless love, her transparent sincerity, her dreams and her absurd ideals, became hateful to him. He called her hypocrite, but he knew in | his soul that he lied.
 Of all this, he told her nothing, and she, sweet soul, being a dreamer, dreamed on. She dreamed that his love for her, like her love for him. was rooted in infinity, and had neith- CT beginning nor end. However, changed he was, and oh, he was changed! However her heart might grieve over him-and oh, the grief was bitterI-one thing she never questioned-his unchanging love.
 It was hard for the boy, these years. harder than for her. He had to endure her love, when every fiber of his be- ing loathed her. The chain that bound him to her dragged heavily.
 He wondered sometimes that he did not break it, once for all. But he could not; there was human goodness in him still; something of the primal man-man before the fall. Children were in the home, and each one was a mighty link, forged by nature, to hold him in the toils-he loved and hated them. The wife, too-the girl of dreams-he loathed her, yes-yet, there was the jealousy of possession she was his-his to protect and care for, though despised. Still the girl dreamed on, and sickened him with her kisses
 But the day of awakening was at Ia was a dreamer, though his dreams were evil dreams.
 She was brushing his coat one day, caressing it as if it were living thing. and singing softly to herself, when a paper dropped from one of the pock- cts. She took it up-it was an en- velope, addressed in his handwriting to one whom she knew we'll
 A sudden pang smote her through the heart She opened the letter there were fresh violets in it-and read-only a word or two, bu+ enough An, God! The girl who had kept her girl heart and her dreams through the long years. would never dream again! She was woman, now, with a woman's knowledge, and her infinite capacity for suffering.
 How long she sat there, conscious only of a mortal wound, a dull throb- ping in her ears. a blindness in her eyes-she knew not. A careless whis- tie aroused her. The boy had come back for the forgotten letter. There sat his wife, and the letter had fallen at her feet She stopped and handed it to him; and as she lifted her eyes to his, he saw that there were no dreams in them. but only memories.
 You have read it," he said mechan- ically, not as a question.
 Yes"
 Tt is all over then,'' he said. There was an accent of despair in the word | He had lost her, and with instant realization he knew that in earth and | heaven there was nothing so dear to him. Her simplicity, her sincerity, her sweet unworldliness were jewels | worth the ransom of a soul, now, to | the fool who had despised them But it was too late. There was a fire | smoldering on the hearth. He raked | the coals together and threw the let | ter in the midst, violets and all, watch | ing with a fierce delight as it shriv- eled into ashes.
 At last he turned and fixed his gaze | from the hearth. He moved toward | her and took up his hat, holding it in | his hand as a chance caller might, be- fore he went away. Yet he delayed, as seconds ran into minutes. He could | not go until she knew. though it was too late now. But his tongue failed i him-the ready tongue. so glib at lies, halted at the truth.
 ''I cannot ask you to believe me" he said-the words were heavy, indis- tinct, but truth spoke in them-"l have lost all claim upon your confidence; but l love you-you only. l have been mad-besotted- I love you. now. ought to be sorry for you. but am thinking of myself. shall loolx uDou vOur fapa