The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1914-06-18
CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER |.
Daniel Slade sat reading the evening
newspaper in the handsomely appoint
ed library of his spacious home. To
all intents he was a man at peace with
the world He had money and power
He had advanced from a penniless
miner to a millionaire figure in the
business world. At fifty his were the
fruits of a well-spent, energetic life.
Handsome and Immaculate In his per-
fectly tailored evening clothes, he MT
ted into the beautiful room with Its
rich tapestries and oriental rugs with
all the ease and naturalness of man
born to culture and wealth.
Every now and then his eyes wan
dered from his newspaper to the hg-
ure of his wife sitting at the other side
of the richly carved table. The tiny,
unimposing little woman in her badly
cut, dun-colored gown was the one In
congruous detail in the room. She
was like shabby little prairie flower
suddenly transplanted to conserva-
tory where brilliant orchids and lovely
roses bloomed all about her, her faint
little fragrance overpowered by their
heavy sweetness-her delicate lowell
ness completely submerged by very
contrast with the radiant beauty of
her surroundings.
To SHADES critical eyes, the dowdy
little figure, with the work basket in
her lap and her head bent over the
stocking she was contentedly darning,
ho6 Effad
up a magnificent home that would
have made perfect setting for prin-
cess, and his wife's appearance had
not changed particle from the days
when they lived in tumble-down cot
tage and he worked in the mines in his
shirtsleeves.. With the getting of vast
amounts of money he had acquired a
veneer Of manners and tastes that at
times failed to conceal the rough and
brutal instincts of the real man. His
social horizon was charging, but
within it his wife seemed to find no
place. He wanted, beyond this and
everything. to climb the political tree
and pick the fruits thereof. His wife
seemed not to know that there was
such a thing as political tree to
climb. With herself. her husband and
her work she was contented and
happy.
The wives of other men of his po
sition were social queens noted fol
their beautiful gowns, their entertain
ing and their clever wit. He alone
was shackled to woman he would
have been ashamed to introduce tc
his friends. Only he was tied to q
wife he could not force either By
pleading or argument to enter into
the life which meant so much to him
Tonight as he rehearsed in his
mind his many unsuccessful efforts t.
make Mary advance and take an inter
est in his life as it was now, rebellion
surged in his heart. He had struggled
year after year to attain his presen1
standing, his present position in the
world. and Mary, the one loved thing
of his life, insisted on hanging like &
milestone around his neck.
Why, oh, why, couldn't the woman
progress? Why hadn't she developed
as he had done? Why was she com
placently sitting there satisfied to re
main just as she had been twent,
yColS d6OS AOpCAOSoAy OOAAAo LIN
times?
And if she wouldn't advance-why
should he consent to be held back b,
her? If she wouldn't go on with hin
he would leave her behind. The
thought and the resultant decision
had their birth suddenly but positively
in the mans mind. He would make
one more argument, one last appeal
II Mary wouldn't meet him half way
Mary could stay behind with her ever
lasting darning and her eternal knit
ting. She could wash and cook anl
stew and sew, if she liked. but she
couldn't do it in his mansion.
But Daniel Slade was no more un
comfortable at having her there thar
Mary Slade was at being obliged te
live in this great, elegant house, with
its crowds of servants and it's routine
absolutely foreign and well-nigh hate
full to her. She knew she didn't fl
into her surroundings. She realized
her own inharmony. Her attempts tt
look natural and feel comfortable
were pathetic. She felt lost withou
the task of overseeing the Mondays
washing. She was heart-broken be
cause she couldn't personally superin
tend the making of Dams coffee. Hel
life was incomplete because a hiret
cook made the bread that was served
on the table and because Dan never
seemed to miss the evenly brown
loaves that had been her especia
pride in the old days.
Mary Slade was as commonplace as
a cup of boiled tea. She was plain
ordinary. everyday woman. who loveG