The Hays free press. [volume] (Hays, Kan.) 1908-1924, 1920-08-05
CHAPTER
-
The Wait


-
The Wait
There was E quiet urge in her veins
that took her to John Lexington. 1t
was a gray-feathered night in spring,
and she refused to turn back. John
held her hands in his, and could not
accept as real the great beauty OF the
world. He had been writing verses as
usual when she came to his door, and
the gentle lines were as always of her,
his Mary, firs unattafnable. Now the
flame that he loved shOne forth in her.
She threaded her destiny with his. In
the dim, dusty hallway outside his
door he found her arms about his
neck, and that springtfde evening
Powered In tEeir kiss.
Mary would not go back. Her family,
the proper Martins, had estranged her
when they refused to receive the man
of her choice The fact that his verse
had once appeared in print served only
TO whet their disapprovaL He could
not make three hundred a year that
way. They would have no more of
him, and no further talk. A shining
new and silent electric had been
brought to the porte cochere, and
Iong-desired~ pearls appeared on her
dressing-tabIe. These gifts and their
bald object won only storm from
Mary. When she had locked her
mother from the room, and had lain
upon the floor to think and resent
the spring twilight had found her, had
touched her cheek and raised her
from the rug. 1t whispered to her,
and caused again the familiar tumult
In her heart. John, her poetl Twi-
light pressed the barb of desire in her
flesh; her thoughts were bitter-sweet.
She admitted to herself that it was
not his writing she wanted, for he
might not be a great poet. She for
got his delicate praise of her eyes.
her Ilght-brown hair, her young limbs.
All OF that might fade some day. She
loved him the most for their moments
of silence So, while the last robin
OF the day caroled outside Of her
window, and the soft dusk sank upon
the trees and lawn, she Obeyed her
own heart, and went to him.
81 will work." he said, when they
went gaily down the stairs Of the
rooming-ho
"You will write, john" she said.
eyes, and work with my hands, too,
for wages. 1 can make song Of 1t. :"
"Where shall we go nowf" she
asked.
Before another sunset they had for
gotten the name of the saIlow minister
They went to a small Michigan
town. John worked in a stove fac
tory, and came home each night with
grirny face and bruised hands. to a
small house that was Lit with happi-
ness. Mary was in a shining dream.
The world was place of beauty and
tenderness and passion. Johns day
labor was something to laugh at. He
was strong, and his bench-mates never
suspected him of writing poetry. With
his beloved he would go downtown
on the summer evenings, carrying a
basket, to buy groceries. They found
delight In simple things in this small
Dowagiac, Michigan. Their cottage
was radiant with cleanliness. John
grew robust from his work. His pale
blue eyes shown with light from
within. He took lightly the mistakes
that often cost him a days wages
There was enough. To him the uni
verse was overlooking with sunlight.
Tho police came, but went away
smiling and powerless. Then the Ole
butler from Mary's house came, and
they kept him overnight. until he for
got his errand of malice, and found
himself gripping the hand of John
Lexington when they parted. The
butler lost his position, and later
Mary's father came. Her mother
also, but the mother remained In the
railway station. refusing to set eyes
upon the cottage 1t would be enough
TO ride back to the city with her silly
daughter. Mr. Martin had sterr
though kindly words for his girl, and
would not consent to remain TO dinner
when John would be home Mary
babe him an afrectionate goodbye
Two silent parents returned to thefl
mansion alone, and their eyes were
blurred.
Mary's days were keenly and frankly
lived On Sundays John wrote verses
She remembered the night she hai
gone to him, and laughed little a
that early idea of love, which hat
seemed SO complete. Now she knew
It mad been but q guess at the wide