The L'Anse sentinel., 1919-04-25
AS a Man
Striveth
-
(copyright.)
By HARRY r. BOWLING


Isabelle spoke listlessly; there was
no infection In her voice: her tone
was negative.
"PO0r Adrian! he was one of the un-
At Nothing ever becomes Of such
men. They simply cease"
tilted back my bamboo chair and
smiled indulgently at Isabelle. We
had been celebrating the fifth ami
versary Of our wedding day. we had
dined comfortably, and now, loungihg
on the terrace OF our Monterey villa,
we were enjoying the restful hour Of
twilight.
A delicious somnolence was steal
Ing over me, the issue Of an easy con-
science and good digestion.
Isabelle reused me from my dream
ings; there was tenseness In her
voice out Of keeping with her former
apathy
"Tell me, Marius, Is II divine or
only human law. that no one woman
at one time may make more than one
man happy?"
sounds like problem In geome-
try or an algebraical equation. Send
II to the puzzle departments" l OBJ
served lazily.
She paid no attention to me but con-
tinued In the same strain.
II would never be the cause Of suf-
fering TO any man-never willingly. If
Ihave been so. 1t was through an mex
orable law"
"Oh. as TO Adrian Hope" ! re-
marked airily. tracing her thought to
Its germ cell, at was part Of his unfit
ness. You couldn't help IT,"
"Yet he was in earnest"
"Too much in earnest for other peo-
ple's comfort. He and his fiddle be-
came n neighborhood nuisance he had
no more music In him than a--er-a
bumblebee!"
"Bumblebees are rather melodious."
she corrected me. "And think you
hardly do justice to Adrian Hope"
"What Did you enjoy his music?"
"No, but he tried so hard. was
sorry for him, and 1t worries me some
times"
"Worries your" was growing
little impatient. "What worries your"
"Adrian Hope left California the
very day of our marriage and has
never. been heard Of since"
"He went to the East Indies. have
told you so many times-partly for
business, partly for pleasure"
"And wholly for pain. My dear
Marius" she continued quickly. Can
| help remembering he was desperate
ly in love with me, and I could never
reciprocate his feelings. and he went
away broken-hearted. do you call that
going for pleasure. and are you jealous
because feel sorry for him?"
II am not jealous" answered qui-
etly. "Why should l be? Adrian never
had the ghost OF show"
Isabelle leaned her elbow on the
stone balustrade which separated the
terrace from the garden below, and
rested her chin In her open palm.
'The Goddess of Reflection'-what
picture! If could put you on canvas,
Just as you look now !" murmured
She shook her head and smiled
sadly.
"You abandoned your brush and pal
ette long ago, Marius. I'm afraid you
couldn't do It,"
Her last remarks caused me some
pin-pricks Of conscience. Since. just
one year after our marriage Isabelle
had inherited comfortable compe-
tence. had entirely neglected my
studio on which I had formerly had
to rely for living. My art had not
been art for arts sake.
"Oh. well, It's never too late to
mend" ! hlnted. "YOu see fate some
times seems to point in one direc-
ton and then the Unexpected"
"But fate and the unexpected are
twin brothers." deep voice broke In
with the boom of an ocean breaker.
jumped to my feet.
Adrian Hope was staNlng only a
few feet from me. had heard no
sound OF his approach.
AS stepped forward to greet
Adrian she retreated into the shadow
of the porch.
81 have been away a long time,
haven't II" Adrian began apologetical-
ly. II trust my sudden return hasn't
startled you. It's hardly conventional.
I fear"
Adrian shook my hand heartily, but
seemed utterly oblivious Of my wife's
presence.
"Your present life, Marius," he
asked, presently, "is It happy, as men
call IT."
Perfectly happy" assented. "Isa-
belle will tell you"
"Ah. yes and five years ago imag-
ined myself perfectly unhappy"
Isabelle stepped forward into the
moonlight, and saw that her cheeks
we're crimson. Adrian addressed him
self to me:
"Come, talk to me Of perfect happi-
ness, as men see It. You used to be
q good talker, as talk goes"
He smiled and wrinkled only one
corner Of his mouth. His face in the
moonlight was the color of dead moss.
I paid no heed to his sneering remark.
After a prolonged silence he began
again.