The Monmouth inquirer., 1920-07-01
BRUISED REEDS
By eERTRupE GUSHING.

the consequent ever-increasing obliga-
ton to discriminate, together with the
sorrow incident to failure, Intentional
or otherwise"
Then you think that If the brain
ceased at any given minute to develop,
from that minute the body would re-
main unchanged in line and color and
expression?"
Something like that"
"Can you cite case in point?"
The question came from third man,
who up to this point had taken no part
In the discussion.
The three men, until the day before
strangers, were gathered in room in
q small hotel in western Massachu-
setts. A swapping wood fire flaming in
the CRATE, a pack of well-thumbed
cards and tall glasses containing some
steaming brew were helping to dispel
the monotony of desperately stormy
evening.
"Yes," replied the first man. sin a
very few words. Do you remember the
oddly dressed young woman on the
station platform when we left the
train yesterday? Well, this is her
story:
"She was girl in this town when l
was a boy, some 20 years ago. The
winter she was eighteen, she spent in
New York, visiting an aunt. In the
spring she came back. engaged to be
married In the fall her lover came
up for three or four weeks and the
wedding took place at the end of that
time. They went to New York to
live. We all liked him, and her let
ters home always sounded as though
she was entirely happy. The next
summer he received a letter calling
him to mining district in Montana. 1t
was said that it was business which
demanded his personal attention. He
brought her here to stay with her peo-
pie until his return, and from that
day to this nothing has been heard
from or of him. Whether the letter
was a fraud, and that was a way he
took to desert her or not, of course, 1
don't know. I have never thought so,
however.
eFor while she put up a good fight.
Then one day she collapsed utterly
and cried continuously for hours. No
body could do anything for her. At
last it seemed as If something in her
brain gave way and a complete change
took place. She stopped grieving and
declared her belief that her husband
would return soon to surprise her and
she must be ready for him.
Each day she dresses with the ut
most care, and goes to meet the New
York train. Her brain life ceased at
that minute, and in mind and body she
seems to be the age that he left her.
You've heard my theory. Now, what's
yours?"
There was silence for a minute, then
the third man spoke. He was a tall,
stoop-shouldered man, with extremely
white hair and eyebrows and pecu-
liar, sliding gait. A man old for his
years, one would have said.
Twenty years ago the 14th of July"
he began, II opened my eyes in small
room in a sort of improvised hospital
ward in mining town in Montana.
They told me that six weeks before /
had been struck on the head by piece
of stone from the arm of a derrick
which had sprung loose. I was knocked
unconscious and had been practically
so ever since. When / looked at my
self 1 was as you see me now. To all
appearances an old man at twenty
three.
ST gained health and strength rapid
ly, and soon began to live again, but
everything previous to that moment Of
my awakening on that 14th of July
was blank-an absolute void; and
with memory went all capacity for In
tense feeling of any kind" He paused
drearily, then concluded: Il sup
pose that woman is my wife"
That cold-blooded statement brought
the second man erect in his chair.
Suppose she is? My God, man, is
that all you have to say? What are
you going to do about it?"
The third man rose slowly, thrust
Ing his long arms upward his fists
clenched as though in some dumb,
hopeless way he were challenging the
Infinite. When he answered, his voice
seemed attuned to the play of the ele-
ments raging outside.
"Shes in a FOOLS paradise-of hope.
Let her stay there. What can do?
I've got a wife and children in Clare
mont, Wyo I married the girl who
nursed me back to life" With that
he shuffled from the room.
"To the devil with your theories y
burst from the second man as ne
raised his glass unsteadily to his lips
The first man said nothing, but long
after midnight he sat before the smol-
dering ashes.