Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1931-07-23

In Three PartS-Part One
With the full consciousness of her
cowardice upon her, Eileen Morrell
had answered the advertisement of
two Miss BIS" in a morning edition
of her New York paper and now. she
found herself, only a week later
sitting on the back seat of their
rig" her baggage disposed besides
and about her, and the broad back
of the Miss BIS man shutting of a
square portion Of her environment
What was left in vision sufficed to
make exultation predominant over
shame.
1t was enchanting to be out here in
the real country where the fields and
woods and rocky lodges swept and
tumbled up and down about her pro-
gress with their divine, half forgotten
freedom from intention or design. 1t
was Intoxicating to be brushed across
the shoulders by poisoning branches,
to experience the wide silence, sur
rounding scattered indeterminate
sounds. to hear the grit of rubberless
wheel rims upon loose. graveled dirt,
to jirk to that sliding bump when the
wagon got itself in or out of a nut
under the tug of a fat old horse who
instantly relaxed in his shafts and
communicated both his energy and his
relaxation to her W slight person.
She would not try, she decided, to
take down notes, she would not make
copy of anything she might experience
during her sojourn with the advertising
Miss BIS. The fragment of escape, of
incognito. would rest in her mind un-
discovered to the world, a secret to
turn over on the tongue of memory
with all its special flavor unweakened
by generous or profitable distribution.
She would not tell any n where
she went nor what she saw. She would
not even tell Horace Willowly-well, of
course, especially not Horace, since it
was from him that she was escaping.
The heavy and bewildered atmosphere
of his love making still hung about her
heart and mind as the cigaret fumes
Of last nights little dissipation at a
table in a turbulent, jazz shaken cafe
still hung about her hair, the taste of
its wine upon her palate. Even there
hung upon her memory the weight Of
of his hand stretched across the cloth
to lay itself on hers, the scorch of his
dark eyes, searching for appreciation;
both memories timed by the weary
throbbing of her pulses, responding to
him through the mist of her fatigue.
Fragments of his difficult, exciting talk
kept thumbing at her mind, his COM
parsons between the harmonies of COL
or and of feeling, his insistence upon
the ultimate merging of all ems i'm
pressions, music with emotion, emotion
with tint, "a chord of viridescent emer-
/, aid felt against one Of i~ncandescent
orange" "a minor trilogy of complete
violet, red and rose impinging upon
close tart harmonies of s~ensibility." He
had a marvellous command of startling
words and phrases. 1t had always as
(, founded and dazzled her, this gift
her own prose being relatively SO SIM
pie, mere shadows of subjective small
adventures, she often wondered at
: the acceptance checks she got
I, from editors for them. 1t was a mag
: nificent thing, she felt, to be loved by
, a poet, a modern poet, masterful over
the complexities of thought and its
expression.
Since there had been an impeachment
in the path Of their passion, they had
had for SO long to be content with
words. Now that-if they chose to
cast aside a few last shreds of COM
: punction-they would be able to a.
bandon secrecy and s~elf-control, she
was profoundly tired. Not of loving
him, of course, but tired as a mountain
climber would be when he comes ur
from the tangle of brush and sliding
rocks, breathless to his summit, and
tells his exhaustion that the laboring
|. is done.
The labor of her intercourse with
Horace, Of his intercourse with her
meticulous and in every way but ver-
/. bally restrained, was just as actually
i. as the mountain climbers done
There lay behind them acres of pas
sionate talk, miles of intricate, excit-
: ing elf-analysis, leagues of words de-
> scribing and defining love, their love
Especially Will lS oupCAlOI quducy VI
-. "deft, intricate chords concentrate
| ing two such complexities with all the
oppositional power of two simple COM
Elementary colors 49," She felt III
her pocket the weight of Horace's
freshly published volume of verse, ded-
) icated to his 'Torch-E. M" and an
ticipated in the quiet retreat of the
/. Miss BIS hours of reminiscent slipping
at those moments commemorated II
his gorgeous irregular lines.
, Miss Buss," said the driver sudden
ly turning upon her rel his square
shoulder a winking, rudy face, "she hat
me kill a pig yust lately. Likely you
= will hat pig. for youse supper, vat?'
She had, indeed, that pig for he
supper. Pork chops he had become
and he was served with apple sauce
, and fresh asparagus. Eileen fount
a herself able to relish him with thes'
/ accomplishments. The house of thu
, Miss BIS was of frame, shingled, gra.
and green, lichen stained. In front o
it stood an ancient pear and a mor'
2 ancient apple tree, proudly blossomint
e still. Big slabs of slate set in the tur
led from the leafy and lonely lam
K through a picket gate which, like tn
fppon IL hrnkp MQc prQV and IChpi