The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-02-27

over. For Julia knew now that life
 to her must be a battle; whatever the years to come might hold for her,
 they could not hold more than an
 occasional heavenly interval of peace. Peace for Jim, peace for her mother. peace for her children and for all those whom she loved; but for her self there must be times of in creasing burden, an increasing wear mess. and the gnawing of an undyfng fight with utter discouragement- Her secret must never be anything but a secret; and yet. to Julia, it sometimes seemed that her only happiness in life would be to shout it to the whole world.
 Not always, for their were. of course, serene long stretches of hap piness, confident times in which she was really what she seemed to be, only beautiful, young, exceptionally Fortunate and beloved. But 1t was Into these very placid intervals that the word or look would enter, to bring her house of cards crashing tbout her head once more.
 Sometimes, not often, it was a mere casual acquaintance whose chance remark set the old, old wound to throbbfng; or sometimes it was Barbara's or Miss Toland's praise: You're so sweet and fine, Ju-if only we'd all done with our opportunities
 as you have!' Oftener it was Jim's voice that consciously or uncon- sciously on his part stabbed Julia to the very soul. For him, the sting was gone, because. at the first prick Ju- lia was there to take it and beart it. No need to conceal from her now the bitterness of his moods; he would meet him halfway. He was worrying 2 ho tT1' do that-here were Julia's arms about him, her lovely face close to his, her sweet and earnest sympathy ready to probe bravely into his dark est thought, and find him some balm. Still gowned from a ball. perhaps, Jewelled, perfumed, dragging her satin train after her, she would come straight into his arms, with: Some things worrying you, dearest, tell me what it is I love you so-'
 No resentment on Jim's part could live for a moment in this atmos- phere. He only wanted to tell her about 1t, to be soothed like a small boy, to catch his beautiful wife in his arms, and win from her lips again and again the assurance that she lov- ed him and him alone. What these scenes cost Julia's own fine sense of
 delicacy and dignity, only Julia knew. They left her with a vague feeling of shame, a consciousness of compromise. For a day or two after such an episode a new hestitancy would mark her manner, a certain lack of confidence lend pathos to the sweetness of her voice.
 But no outside influence ever could bring home to her the realization of the shadow on her life as forcibly as did her own inner musings, the tes- Y inn fT1x r1P I z but been innocent how easy to bear Jim's scorn, or the scorn of the whole world! It was the bitter knowledge that she had taken her life in her bwn hands nearly 20 years ago, and wrecked it more surely than if she had torn out her own eyes, that made her heart sick within her now. She, who loved dignity, who loved purity, who loved strength, must carry to her grave the knowledge of her own de- festaIb1e weaknessI She must instruct | her daughter. guarding the blue eyes and the active mind from even the | Of Hfe's upg1y side. she | must hold the highest standard of 1 purity, who loved strength, must car ry to her grave the knowledge of her | daughter, guarding the blue eyes and | the active mind from even the know1- i edge of ltfe's ugly side. she must |
 
 before her son. knowing, as she knew, that far back at her 1ife's be- ginning. were those few hideous | weeks that in the eyes of the world. | could utterly undo the work of 20 | strong and steadfast yearsi She l must be silent when she 1onged to | cry aloud, she must train herself to 1 cry aloud at the thing that she had | been- And she must silently endure | the terrible fact that her husband | knew, and that he would never for get Over and over again her spirit shrank at some new evidence of the fact that, with all his love for her, his admiration, his loyalty, there was 8 reservation in her husbands heart, a conviction-of which he was per haps not conscious himself-that Jul la was not quite as other women. Her criticism of others must be more gentle. her opinion less confidently offered. Others might find in her exceptional charms, rare strength, and rare wisdonl-not Jim. For him she was always the exquisite penitent, who had so royalty earned a per renewed forgiveness, the lit tie crippled play-fel1ow whom it was his delight to carry in his arms. His | judgment for what concerned his | children was the wiser, and for her, too. when she longed to throw her self into this work of reform or that | to expose herself, in other words, | to the very element from which a | kind Providence had seen fit to re- move her. Obviously, on certain sub- iects there must not be two opinions, | in any house, and, whatever the usual | custom, obviously he was the person to decide in his own.
 "Rich says you were not a saint | yourself when you were in college, | Jim!" she had burst out once long | years ago. before their separation. l But only once. After all, the laws | were not of Jim's making; whatever | he had done, he was a respecter of | convention, a keeper of the law of | man. Julia had broken Gods law, | had repented, and had been forgiven. | But she had also broken the law of | man, for which no woman ever is for | given. And though this exquisite and l finished woman, with her we1l-stored |