Evening star., 1929-01-02
BY
BARBARA
WEBB

and places unchanged. had cherlshed.
in my heart the memory OF young SHd
lovely girl, whom I hoped to love and
make my wife If she was still free. /
found instead q blase society woman
who frightened me with her boldness.
II ran away. I went to Paris and
from there to Normandy, where I met
and married young peasant girl.
She was all that was good and beau
tiful and pure and for three years she
made me perfect wife. She was much
like you in appearance. whether she
loved me or not do not know. But
while I felt for her a deep affection
and respect, I did not love her. / do
not love her now, and shall never love
her as a man loves woman.
For a long time my work satisfied
me. My wife kept my house and
looked after my creature comforts so
that I gave no thought whatever TO
them. lived for my work. Grad
ually though, tired of this way OF
living. 1 had made my wife promise
that she would not change. At the
end of three years of marriage she
was still simple peasant girl-pretty,
an excellent cook. totally untitled for
any kind of social life. My nerves
began to trouble me. Ny doctor told
me I needed change. I went away
for three months, leaving my wife alone.
She did not seem to mind my absence
and on my return things went on as
usual for a time Then began to
grow restless Again my doctor ordered
me to find other interests besides my
work, but felt that in fairness to my
wife, I should not lead life she could
| not share.
1T was after I had come to this
| decision that she one day asked per-
mission to visit her old grandparents
| in France. I consented, and she has
been away now for nearly four months.
| During that time I have taken up all
my old interests-and some new ones"
| He paused and held her hand closer.
"And now I find that love you
love you as did not dream a man
| could love a woman. tell you because
I must tell you. And having told you
must give you up. My wife's faith
does not permit divorce. There Is moth
| ing honorable I can offer you, even
| If that could be overcome; II she would
| be willing to give me my freedom. I
cannot wound her by asking 1t. She
| has been true and faithful wife to me
| and owe her protection"
| He caught her hand to his cheek and
held it there. She stroked his hair
with hand that trembled. He buried
his head in her lap.
"Pity me, pity me-" he cried. "I love
you madly-and there is an unbreak-
| able barrier between us"
| Yvonne bent over him, her secret
| trembling on her lips. But no, this
was not the way she wished him to
know the truth. For weeks she had
| cherished plan. A days delay would
| let her carry 1t out. So she kept silent,
only murmuring his name at intervals.
Presently he raised his head and took
her hands.
do you love me?" he asked.
| II love you," she said Sweetly. "But
too much, oh, far too much to let you
do anything diSllonorable. love you
more, because you regard this poor young
wife of yours as you do. Richard, will
you let me think overnight of what We
are to do? Perhaps my womans wit,
my woman's heart can perceive way
| out for us ALL
You are an angel" Richard said
fervently. Il will wait however long
l it must be if you can find a way for
us. But there is no such way, in honor,
| I am sure" 81.
Yvonne pressed his hand gently. do
not be too sure" she said. Come
back tomorrow, at noon. We will lunch
and afterward We will talk"
Richard rose and looked at her seri-
ously. When he spoke his voice was
4 tAAANA WANAA 4Oh6A4Bs Hd4Ab W VI uo4A
you in my arms, to love you madly-
and all can do is to plan tc run away
from you. I viii lunch with you to-
morrow-and after that I will sail to
rejoin my wife. But your image will
| go with me to death"
| Yvonne laugherd a little. "How dra-
matte, my Richard? There-I am not
| laughing at you. I am near to tears
Come tomorrow. Perhaps there is .
way"
AS he turned to go, he moved to
take her in his arms. But Yvonne stop
| ped him.
Let us not spoil it, my friend"
she said.
He checked himself and rushed away,
taking with him that last picture Of
her, half smiling through threatened
tears, joy and hope in her face because
he loved her.
Yvonne danced about the small living
| room. She was in a very ecstasy Of
JOY. Her own husband, her very own
husband. had fallen in love with her
new self. And yet he was strong enough
to wish to be faithful to her old self
too. Was there ever so delicious a
situation.
She danced into her bedroom and
stopped to unlock a small cedar chest
which stood there. From it she took
the peasant costume which she had
made for herself so many. moons ago.
Quickly she stripped herself of her
modish clothes. Another few moments
and she was standing as Richard had
last seen his wife in Stamford. a rather
pathetic figure in her full skirt, touch
ing the ground. and her tight bodice.
she had stepped back into another
existence. Tiptoeing to the mirror she
whispered: Tomorrow he shall know
he shall have Yvonne and mademoi-
selle. the old wife and the new love
all in one"