The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 16, 1900, Page 10

10 ' MARION HARLAND, f _ at s wits < 1 c . - & w s s t t,w € - s se = . wi 24 " = ce e went so far & a > make belleve to berselt tent with 1t s to face the tr h r ¥ yd was disappointed in he e lot into v h bad brought hix 3 sis part, considered the whole y every natural and p d meant to have s full equivalent d reasoned herself into the t, if the baby born to them ago had lived Instead of pass- ing ven upon the first breath it drew vis bleak world, home would have en more and club life less to the baby her. Clear-eyed Alison came to the silent concl 1 during that evening of obser- vation that a more potent domestic decoy would have been a wife as zealously and ly bent upon holding her husband v mMEm been upon ente lover. The knowledg, was hers t have and to hold for may have 1 to the exclusion of all ughts of his possible truancy. What a woman hath doth she hope for? il had t used to the aining the of absolute s before the possession nd what it impl hed its fc honey reac By the ing of the fourth marriec notony and conj It was such an old story tha when obliged to c it wife still, deeply and truly longer in love with her. Is in the degree, not in kind; in s , and not in color. Some women content them- selves with the second grade and affect to admire the faded tint. Others go hun- gering and thirsting to their ruin. “The price of husbandly admiration is perpetual prettiness,” rumi d wise Al son, staring the moon cut of countens through her ch. hour of two in aves—or to er window at the ee orning. “Marjorie has gone off in style rather than in face. Her gown is two rs behina the f ion, and her hair as plainly dressed as if she were her own maiden aunt. While we were talking she seemed intent upon her crocheting. Basil used to hate the sight of a crochet-needle. He doesn't seem to mind it now; but he ought to. He has grown away from her, and that with & married man or woman is a sin and & danger. They needed nobody to UGH ALL THE YEARS, =70UV ANB { 1°° T T W make the match,” a faint gleam flitting over her face. ‘“There is dire need'of s atch-mender now. I don't like the look When Alison did not like anything, and aid as much in that tone, a sharp-cut »etween her brows and a straighten ing out of the bowed upper lip, something or somebody had to give way. The next day closed in wet and wile. As Basil Lanneau swung himself from the cable car at the corner nearest his house he had about made up his mind to look in at the club that night. He would find no better entertainment there than Alisoa Stirling’s conversation. He had always liked and admired her, but travel, study and experience of the world had made a fascinating woman of her. There was stimulus—inspiration—to a man in such companionship. She had Introduced leaven into the inert meal of his domestic life. The sound of music flowed into the rainy darkness as he opened the front door. He moved softly in, laying aside overcoat and hat, then paused, unheard, THE SUNDAY CALL. to study the pieture framed *- the poz- tiere hung between drawing-room and hall. Alison Stirling sat at the glowing grate of the back room, half-buried in the cush- fons of a”Turkish chair. Her face, seen 1n profile, pensive; her simple b s gown made her look p: almost in fact. Who, then, w the mu He shifted his position, bringing into ey range plano and perfurmer. The tail, pink-shaded lamp beside her showed him the girl he had wooed and won five vears before. He had almost forgotten how she boked, and the sudden apparition dazea him. Involuntarily he shut his eyes hard. then opened them, incredulous of thelr re- port. It was Marjorie Donne to the lifc! Dream-love, sweetheart, and bride! Her gray brocade was cut square and low upon the chest; the opening was filled with creamy lace. A great red rose nestled among the billowing fluffiness. Her hair waved and rippled back from the broad, low forehead. He could have said that her, cheeks were rounded by the flush that restored the delicate tint of her com- plexion. While he looked she began to sing. Her volce was a contralto of fair quality; to-night it was tender and sym- pathetic. tinetl ce, and Sweet sleep, And one star ‘Where thou So, sweethea She articulafed purely and dis then the dark: nd then the dawn, there to hast gone. rt, from my sight A little hast thou flown; Why, for the Should I m Parted, but not with tears; Barth's dre: am and then the sky, And then, through gll the years, Together—y: ou and 1! ““That is exquisite,” saild a voice from the easy chalr, ““Where did you get 1t7” HE THEN PAUSED, ~UNHEARD, T® STUDY “T found the words tn Lippincott’s Mag- azine. They are by John Leighton Best. As for the music, if you call it music, I thought it out for myself.” She swung around on the piano stool with a nervous little laugh “As I told you, I have not kept up my practicing. It didn’t seem worth while somehow. But after baby came—and went—I fell into a way of com- ing down here in the eve was out, and strumming humming to myself to k off lonelin devils. That scrap of aunted me until I fitted it to a tune isn’t much of a tune, but it goes well with the words.” “It goes more than well. T am ashamed of you for neglecting your practicing. You always underval ar musical talents and every other kind. Have you ever sung that to B “Never! He is t sic to care for is not sentiment always.”™ good a judge of mu- ch sballow stuff. Basil I am afraid I shall be 1 of afratd. . glad Ins he sugar In ot of are unjust to Basil as - g to be heaven, got h t away : thout noise thick stair carpet fa- voring his retreat n his to a mirror e image re- dressing-room he marched and shook a savage fist at t Soatet igceti You stark, concefted, blithering 1dlot he hissed bet is teeth. “If T could find a place to stand upon I would knock you down and pummel you to a jelly, you asinine, infernal mistake In the shape of & man g His next step would have purzled a 'r“‘r"n!';r not endonw with the story tell- er's gift of seeing into the machinery of the human skull. He arrayed himself -arefully in evening dress, stealing a rose from the bouquet in his wife's sitting- room for his button hole. Then he ran i y downstalirs as a lover to a tryst. in the easy chalr. Mar- the pla 1d Basil, debonairly, to the guest. bowing as he passed her on the way to his wife, who had risen with a low ery of surprise a He took her other eyes. Throush all the years Together you and I he sald. “The y to spend hers, darling. We won't MeTRRY In releasing herse brace Marjorie face toward Aliso cant ano. She and wanted been a blind nothing more her trial, won't you? been thinking below window lo glare. The s eas e effort t far d among t her eyes she to-night. slon of love a and heip me s suffer and be strong—and t God, to them and to myse (+/THE PICTURE