The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1931-11-20

utterly adorable. Thered been no
quarrels, no flaws The only thing
she'd found to cry about during the
establishments of their honeymoon
had been the fear that, now his love
had cooled-proyed not to be, any
how, the constant romantic blaze she
had, before their marriage, believed
he was repenting his bargain, feeling
| that he had thrown himself and his
brilliant prospects away.
Those brilliant prospects of his! Had
they ever existed at all, save in his
| youthful self-conceit? For few
years after his marriage they'd gone
| on seeming real enough; his promotion
to assistant cashier and few months
later to cashier of the great Chicago
agency had been inspiriting assurance
that he was we'll thought of in the
home Office.
He used to comfort Julia, who found
the vast flatness of Chicago and it's
suburban areas depressing, by assur-
ing her confidently that their stay out
here was for few years at the most.
They might call him back to New York
any time. |
They never did call him back. That
promotion to the cashiership Of the
Chicago agency was the last Of the
series. He knew now of course, had
known for many years-day-dr to
the contrary Notwithstanding
l.
1t was vain to look back in the
effort to see why, having come so far,
he had stopped so finally. There
wasn't mark, not even question
mark, upon his record. He'd never
been remiss in his duty; he'd made no
bad mistakes; he'd lived frugally with
in his income, righteous and sober
life. For some reason or other this
wasn't enough to prevent. them from
simply forgetting all about him.
What was the reason?
Julia used to say she thought she
was. He might, she used to speculate,
have married some New York girl with
money of her own and social position,
some one who would have helped
rather than impede his advancement.
Edward had sometimes reflected a
little ironically that so far as Julia
herself was concerned she might be
right. If his salary, instead of being
subdivided among wife, two babies
and a house, had been concentrated
on himself, he could have been a more
ornamental figure. He could have
kept up look Of success which might
have made just the difference needed.
These were no new thoughts; but
always, until now, they'd been guilty
ones, always dismissed with the ring
ing assertion that the sacrifice-if
there had been sacrifice-was we'll
made. He'd been rewarded for it in
commensurably in the possession of
Julia and the children.
They'd been married twenty years,
and their quarrel about Ruth Ingra-
ham, begun less than year ago, had
been their first overt, dramatic differ
ence. But the blight had begun set
thing upon their marriage, eating its
way in, destroying the life of it, long,
long before that. He couldn't honestly
blame Julia for it, but neither could
he honestly blame himself. Searching
for a beginning Of the change, he
found himself coming back to his de-
cision, when Edith was baby, that
they couldn't afford to have any more
children until he got another pro-
motion.
He had thought at the time-per-
suaded himself anyhow-that his wife
agreed with him. All she'd ever said
was, in explanation Of her having
Joined some new charitable board or
committee that he had. feared might
be too much for her, II might as well,
if I'm not going to have any more
children"
He hadn't discussed the alternative
with her; there was nothing to say.
They couldn't afford to have any more
children, unless he got promotion.
She had come to regard him, he
gloomily supposed, as failure. Well,
Of course, he was. The brilliant young
New Yorker she'd married had slowed
down into an Office hack. He'd become
cfotchety, dull, censorious. After
seven or eight hours Of nagging rou-
tine in that id Office, he didn't bring
home much that wife could take any
great satisfaction in.
She had i'll health, too. Asthma
cost her many sleepless night; him.
too, incidentally. And she was
martyr to hay fever.
But her version Of the Ingraham
affair wasn't candid wasn't even true.
He believed she knew it wasn't. 1t
came to this; that she and Edward
had had a perfectly happy, satisfac-
tory life together until he. with sheer
masculine Inconsistency, had allowed
himself to become infatuated with
younger, prettier woman. How inno-
cent or how guilty the pair might be
now, she had declared in her letter.
was no concern of hers. That was
matter merely of prudential considera-
tions. He'd probably been secretly de-
sirous of Ruth a long time before her