The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1923-09-05


like things she could not put in
words. For all their beauty those
magic nights dismayed and disquiet-
ed her. They, too, were of the reah.
ties, and for all her past attitude of
sophistication, she found that realism
was the one thing she could not and
dared not accept. Such realities as
these, the understanding seas and
the infinity of the stars, were rapidly
stripping her of her dearest delu-
sions; and with them, the very
strongholds of her being. Hereto
fore she had placed her faith in SUI
perfcialities, finding strength for
Ter spirit and bolstering up her self
| respect with such things as pride oil
ancestry, social position, a ceFain
social attitude of recklessnes that
she thought became her, and most of
all by refusing to believe that life
contained any depth that she had
not plumbed, any terrors that she
dared not brave, any situation that
she could not meet and master. But
here these things mattered not at all.
Neither ancestry nor social position
could save her should the winter
cold, limited at already IN the bitter
frost Of the, dawns, swoop down and
find her unprotected. Her own per-
sonal charm would not fight for her
should she fall overheard into the
icy waters. Here was region
where recklessness could very easily
mean death; and where life itself
he
yond her ken. But there was no
turning back. Every hour the
Charon bore her farther from her
home.
Mrs. Hardenworth, whose habits of
thought were more firmly established,
was only made irritable and petulant
by the new surroundings. Never good
company except under the stimulation
of some social gathering, she was rap
idly becoming something of a prob
lem to Ned and Lenore. She was ir-
ritable with the crew, on the constant
verge of insult to Bess, forecasting dis
aster for the entire expedition. Unlike
Bess, she had never been disciplined
to meet hardship and danger; her only
resource was guile and her only cour-
age was recklesness; so now she tried
to overcome her inner fears with
more reckless attiture toward life. 1t
was no longer necessary for Ned and
Lenore to seek the shelter of the pi-
lot house for their third whisky-and-
soda. She was only too glad TO take
1t with them. More than once the
dinner hour found her glassy-eyed and
almost hysterical, only a border re-
moved from actual drunkenness. New
er possessing any true moral strength
or real good breeding, a certain aban.
don began to appear in her speech.
And they had not yet rounded the
Alaskan Peninsular into Boring Sea
To Ned. the long north and west.
ward Journey had been even more A
revelation. He also knew the fear
the establishment. a swift sense OF
weakness when before he had been
perfectly sure in his own strength;
but there was also a more complex
reaction-one that he could not ana.
I'VE or put into words, He couldn't
call it happiness. It wasn't that, I'M
less the mood that follows the hear
ing of wonderful music is also hap.
piness. Perhaps that was the best
comparison: the passion he felt was
something like the response made to
great music. There had been times
at the opera, when all conditions were
exactly favorable. that he had felt
The same, and once fhen he had
heard Fritz Kreisler play Handel's
Largo" 1t was a strange reaching
and cropping. rather than happiness
1t was a stir and thrill that touched
the most secret chords Of his being
He felt it most at night when the
great. white northern stars wheeled
through the heavens. 1t was, good
to see them undulled by smoke: they
touched some side of him that had
never been stirred into life before.
Al such times the sea was, lost in
mystery.
The truth was that Ned. by the
will Of the Red Gods, was perceiving
something of the real spirit of the
North. A sensitive man to start with.
ne caught something of its mystery
and wonder of which, as yet. Lenore
had no glimpse. And the result was
TO bring him to the verge OF a far
reaching discovery: that of his own
weakness.
He had never admitted weakness
before. He had always been so sure
# himself, so complacent, so self
efficient. But curiously these things
we're dying within him. He found
himself doubling, for the first time,
the success Of this northern ad-
venture. Could he cope with the
realities that were beginning to press
upon him? Would not this northern
wilderness show him up as the weak
ling he was?
For the first time in his life Ned
Cornet knew what realism was. He
supposed, in his city life, that he had
been a realist: instead he had only
been a sophist and a mocker in an
environment that was never real
from dawn to darkness. He had read
books that he had acclaimed among
his young friends as masterpieces of
realism-usually works whose theme
and purpose seemed to be a bald
faced portrayal of sex-but now he
saw that their very premise was one
Of falsehood. Here were the true
realities - unconquerable seas and
starry skies and winds from off the
waste places.
Unlike Lenore, Ned's regrets were
not that he had ever launched forth
upon the venture. Rather he found
himself regretting that he was not
better fitted to contend with If Per