The Holbrook news., 1914-10-03
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HER AUTHOR HUSBAND
By CHARLES EUGENE BANKS.


 In the dusk of the evening a woman sat at a piano, softly improvising. Outside the katydids trilled an an- swering refrain. The air was heavy with the fragrance of roses that clambered over the low walls of the cottage
 The house, built of hewn logs, sat in the center of a wide stretch of lawn. To the right stood a grove of oak and elm, poplar and naples. To the left ran an apple orchard warm with the blush of early ripening fruit.
 The woman at the piano rested her hands on the keys and sat for a mo- going to a door looking into a room at the back called softly, "William!"
 Well" came a deep response.
 May I come in?"
 Certainly, my dear. You are al- ways welcome"
 He laid his pen aside and held out his hand to her. What is it, little sweetheart? Lonesome, eh? Never mind. I shall be done with this work very soon and then we will have a long play spell"
 Don't write any more tonight, dear" She trailed her fingers softly through his tangled hair. Its so stroll under the trees"
 T can't stop until the book is done. The proofs are all here and I must change this ending When the book is off for good, little one. we will have a long vacation
 Tt is always so," she said, with disappointed sigh, "and it will always be. The book! The book! You care more for any one of those scribbled pages than you do for me-"
 He glanced up at her with a half smile, expecting to see a laughing de- nial of her words in her eyes. But she turned away and went back to the piano. Through the doorway he watched her for a moment and then bent again to his work.
 How different was this from the married life she had dreamed of. She was young, pretty, fond of friends. pleasure, music. Before they were married they had artists and littera- teurs for their associates and the hours had been bright with wit, repartee and song. Now they had been for months in this secluded spot, with hardly an old friend to pay them an occasional visit. He must not be interrupted in his work. When the book was done they would have time enough for en- joyment In his absorption he did not miss the society of friends, but she had not this needed concentration to fill her hours. Her heart cried out for sympathy and love. for the touch of nature that makes comrades of two souls, Tor that answer to the animated heartbeats of a conscious being. with out which life is as a dry well in a desert. She had looked forward with delight to the time when she should be her husbands confidant, when the people of his creation should be her people, known to her almost as soon as to him, so that she should have a sort of partnership in them, and some thing to do with giving them to the world. She had planned to be his helpmeet, his inspiration. She had seen herself suggesting a lesser char acter for a tale, adding a word or a phrase, contributing a witticism. But into that world she had found no en. trance. It was a kingdom with but room for one. and she was farther away from it now than when they were married 12 months ago. If her husband took her into his confidence concerning his literary pursuits it was to read her page here and there, and that in such an unaccented way as to leave it almost meaningless. He saw she found no enjoyment in these pc rusals and gave them up altogether. Night and day he thought of his work and she grew more and more lonely She did not doubt his affection for her, but she could not be satisfied with an occasional caress or a gentle word. as the whole expression of 1t
 One day, at the little station near their cottage, she met Ralph Farms worth, and the instant look of admira. tion that came toshis eyes was not dis pleasing to her. She had grown so weary of solitude that another being out of their old world was gladly vel comed. He was staying with a rela- tive in the neighborhood, he told her; his physician had advised the country; but for his part he hated it. He did not go away, however, but planned many ways of meeting the pretty wife of the author, who found no time from his books to entertain her. She was too much of a woman not to know Farnsworth remained because of her. She did not admit it to herself, yet down deep in her heart she wac pleased with the admiration she had awakened in this man of the world, with his air of weariness toward everything. It was something to have power over one who had seen every. thing and despised it. She was sc much alone that he found little difi. | culty in meeting her and she began