The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 12, 1903, Page 4

at nt over her nto ¥ m slde to “Go away—oh, relinquish- w himself up, steadied himself by an ltalian ers’ Con- divided in- sh sod fateful day iter and life: p nd filled with Was Do new had been faial dis- and it had mitations and now it had 1 at lasi. that walking the long this her on ever since in the whoie truth had be her. had thought t al every she could trace bed analyzed and synthesized: she had viewea it from every possible stand- e schemes she had when tc T at her could ever change that were slowly dy Tip of shy a the hori- i become opalescent and vening. A new life seemed awake in the world that should went spr: s red breast fous of won were the one on singing in ved her to ralse 1 £0; hing in the new and vital pulse that thrilled the world. She closed b window and turned away. Sbe had her duties, her John Ethan was calling. and the supper ‘was to be laid; life somehow after all must be lived. She was going down the stairs, when suddenly from the little of exis- e that persist sometimes ludicrously. irritatingly even in th life, she thor ing papers lying at that moment damp sud limp againsi the front door. The pri- maries—she stopped and steadied herseif by the baluster—what had been the result of the primaries? She shook her head impatiently for thinking of them in that moment. What were the primaries to her row? And yet—would he win She went on down the stairs, she found the papers, and now when the truth could no longer be hidden, or distorted to any one's advantage, they printed the truth &t last—none could tell the result at that hour; it was the hardest political battle ever waged in Polk County. and on it Lung the political future of Jerome B. Garwood. mething of the old excitement came back to her for a moment. He was there in the thick of it, fighting hard; he was desperate; he had risked all again for that political future—she stopped herself with a gasp—if, indeed, his future alone were all that was involved! To her it was his past that was involved; his past that tueant more than all to her now. He had, indeed, risked all upon this battle, and ali had been lost before the battle was be- gun She ate her lonely supper, she put her bables to bed, she prolonged all her even. g duties that they might fill up her thoughts and the slow hours. Each sound, ecach foot-fall on the sidewalk startled her, and vet no one came. The evening passed. At last she went to bed, but all the noises of the night alarmed her, and in the darkne: the burden of her thcughts became insupportable. And still the hours went by. The low right brooded over the slumbering town. i*ar down that black and silent street, its shepes distorted and unfamiliar in the skadows, she knew that his fate had been gecided. The early hours of the morning brought their chill, and she shrugged her- self more closely in her shawl, clutched it more tightly to her breast. And there in the window, alone, she watched and waited while the night grew old and waned. out of XIIL The crowd of men that filled Chris Stels- floss’ saloon were not reckoning the time that night. They pressed. as many of them as could. against the bar, and those who were huédled behind this front rank stretched their arms between the brush- ing shoulders for the glasses that Chris himeelf and his bartender, both on duty, made haste to fill each time some voice shouted an order for drink. The long bar- com was stifiing and the gas jets flared in their efforts to keep here from which the 03 gen was so quickly exhausted. ¢ tilted hats of the gathering a cioud of smoke drifted | nts along the low ceiling, following {Me Grafts that puffed aimlessly whenevir the outer door opened, and bt air rush in with its sane and sani- kiv, uncertainly. grayv cool part of the low hanging cloud of smoke &s though an element of the feculent at- y + palpably the mass sphere, hung al words Guths and epithct and empty phrases that were poured out m a mad debacle by all voices. To this were added the scrape and <huffle of boots, moving unsteadily on the the click of glasses as pledged anew a cause which ihe defiance of their angry tones was evi- excited these all in ihe midst of them all, with his broad k lcaning against the ra!l that guard- was Garwood himscif. umpled shirt was open at the vat was gone. his sojled cuffs had come nlinked and he fittingly portraycd in his whole appearance the utter rout and de- nioralization which had that day overtsk- His eves hlazed now with the confused emotions (hat x,x“ a His hiw. en his political and_scemed well again this, far > town, the y on the bar, walnut that had laid his was soaking had been spilled from an overturned up the ligu of his disordered mind the il And there it repos ving he wreck of the . his black hair his che:ks and 15 day’s growth of the stu 1 chin changed there was of shoulder a peremptor glasses again, when hottle and un- » tum- steady hand. Then holding the 1i bier in a precarious grasp, he faced about ain and with elbows bLar thick resting on th Don’t saten stand, but I'm not beaten! I've only begun. charges world I've the keep me off surged inst the bound- at hey Jim Rankin— ‘em, You'll You hear me? You I'll lick 'em all, every one, I'll drive 'em out of the district, I'll ‘em out of the east to on the west, from Dunleith to Cairo. the buffalo grass on fire and sweep clean of them. »f them o'er all the rolling prai- of Iliinois.” s bhe rolled out the word “Illinois,” tone the orators of that State 'u: State he swung his arm in an all-em- and his auditors dodged slopping whisky. The he stood and blinked at th “Why don't you fellows broke forth again. siand around tbat way for? Jim Rankin? that singed cat to Congress what do I care? Rankin—who's sce. you walt and see. wait and see. the s the Mississippi ru not in he “What do you want What are licked, do you? show ‘em all. Why don’t you drink, Pu- you_drink up? Well, I'll show I'll show yo Think I t got any money? “bris here knows me. He fumbled in his pockets. produced a mass of green bills, and held them forth pone of the gratitude he felt, quietly, almost surreptitiously, glasses and bottle before the successful candidate at that day's primaries .and the man who had brought his success to Some one struck up a favorite song of pa the campaign platforms: Not without thy wondrous story, s ol " “Give us a little drink— tell you there isn't room for them the broad expanse of s In the record of the 3 Abr'ham Lincoln's name appears, and our tears, Dlinots. Iilinols. by huddled more closely to- “Oh Some of the men, with serio- bass pre- dominated, and they sang over and over the few words of the song they cowd maudlin exhibition. door opened. and Rankin, with Bailey by ~ “Poor Jerry!” he said. “I thought he's a little off when he came—" he checked himself, and then—"when I saw him this freckled with the little spots where the afternoon,” he continued. He looked at him for another moment, ap- and then he said, angrily, to the man whom all the time he kept between him that and the crowd: “Why don’t some o' yon fellers get him out o' here? What do you want to let He him disgrace himself that-away fer?" sham- The man looked at Rankin shrugged his shoulders to tell how help- from their narrow lids and roved about less they all were, him with their customary cunning. his side. entered. ed from hat to heel, Rankin was bespatter- even his face was viscous mud was flaccid with fatigue, and His huge body how heavily he had toiled at in his determination to defeat Gar- no sign of ti he had spent the same swkward, looked out walked with bling galt, He “We've tri of exhaustion, around tow a a day had been his. comers. get out—don’t let him see, ‘the fellow toward him. “Sh!'’ he whispered. *‘Don’t T see us. 1 didn’t know he's here, or we'd not come in. We'll duck. How long's he here?" concluded another speech, was tipping his glass Into his mouth, his head top- knees, his pling on his neck as man turned back again to Rankin, still that helpless look, but, suddenly, the eve as if a new thought had just come to him, he said: ‘‘You try, Jim; you thinks more of you to-3ay than of the rest put together.” Rankin faced the bar and hastily swal- lowed his bourbon. “No,” he said; And then he and Balley slipped away. “Poor Jerry!"” sighed Rankin, as they went out the door. But the singed cat, whose personality “ru d;su}:\ed 80 soo]ntto become the pas- 1.% [ o slon of the cartoonists, back at his defeated rival one of those Slorious conflict, glances from his unsearchable little eves. though he always looked tired, mor of the elation that probably was in his . breast at the great victory which that he did so. The Rankin, when he saw the crowd with Garwood as_its_center, halted suddenly and jerked his hat down over his eyes. He drew Bafley hurriedly to the bar near the mirrored partition that screenea the scene within from the street and made a sign .to Stelsfloss. ''¢ <aloon-keeper, with an alert appreciation X Think I'm %" Situation which his long ex- Think I'm dead politic- perience with men in their cups had Il {aught him, silently moved and bent a listening ear toward the new- " hurry. We'll sald Rankin. Steisfloss’ heavy German face showed with a flash of past."” turned and cast At the clése of a ddy late In November Before they could take their liquor, some ont at the edge of the crowd near Rankin noticed him. Rankin's quick eye detected the recognition, and he pulled the fall of the last of Emily's ideals, and she felt. with her old habit of fixing a Cheeks again, and formal duty for every occasion that she must recognize the change by some defi- But as she gradually revolved the problem iife had set for her, and one after another weighed all the common solutions that men and wo- men consider at such times—perhaps be- pim gtjll! There was the soivtion to her riddle of life! And this, this was the aus- picious, the psychological moment, come said the man, “ever since h2 got gether, and with heavy voices joined in that last news from the First Ward.” Rankin could not restrain the gleam of tenor, pleasure that shot from his eye at the memory of that triumph, but the gleam softened as he stole a look at Garwood, and then, at last, died quite away, and there came in its stead an expression of the pain and_ pity. nite, decisive act. cause of sheer inability to grapple with such monstrous spiritual difficulties—she shrank from them, finding them all so at last! She walted in agony for him to so inadequate to a speak, she leaned forward expectantly, and he half turned his widened, almost flamed forth, as she felt. to meet his there in the darkness had suddenly become all light for her. And then he laughed, a that came harsh on the stillnes so squalid, nature like hers. And so she lived bn from day to day, trying to reason it out, and falling in that, awaiting the next scene in her domestic tragedy. But nothing happened. somehow as before. Life went on If_at times she re- proached herself with what seemed her said: . she strove” with all conscience to perform the little duties of each. day, Her eyes fell. He took it then., quite until the great duty could be revealed clearly to her, yet self-consclously wond- ering how It was that she could think pointment. and do common as she had wondered, at A he said. He d Garwood, who, for equality that leave them whe But the ausp; derness at times they must have seel to the da majestic dignity. lied his words “But_there i the old way. “You are blue.” He was silent a moment longer, In an ugly reluctance to speak, and then: “Well,” he said, you want to know.” She sighed. The old sordid struggle af- ter all! He waited awhile longer, desir- ing her to coax him out of hig mo she said nothing, and at last he pelled to speak once more “I don’t know what we do,” he eald, “my creditors, 1 ve been beaten, are making a rendezvous.” chin til the changes She pause the time her father died, how It was. for instance, that she could leave the solemn twilight of the chamber where she had Jjust witnessed the mystery of death, and straightway go and eat her supper. did not see that her spirt was thus un- consefously struggling to to identify itself anew with the common. the real; to be like all e'se about it for it had not vet been given her to ap- preclate the love for tne normal, horrence of the exceptional, the passion nature reveals dealings with her children. She was convinced that she must have some kind of reckoning with Jerom somethirg in a way with all the conventional trial, judgment and retribution glveness; at times she even dramatized the forms and terms of this which would atone h : they had. been before. moment never sented itseif; she realized at lust that it could not come; that the old ground had been lost, and lost forever: uld be nothing like resumption they must begin. If at ail, anew And so the summer had watched Jerome narrowly, change fn humor, in whim. in expression. thinking It possible tha the subject that lay so near of both. At first, in a remorse that was evident, he had been show new consideration: tion that was likely to exaggerate ent her flowsrs like 2 lover, and while they touch- reassert itself, fous noting every he might broach \g for her a and brought her can: If these silent appeal ed *her—did not altogether reas abundantly him. for in the d to have forgotten E defeat. One afternoon he had come home, silent and preoccupled, and moodily chosen to sit alpne, staring out the window, though seemingly oblivious onder and beauty of the October dying, like the y there in the gloom, gradual her. got on her nerves, and at last drew lier irresistibly into the room where he was. She sat down quietly, without dis turbing him, in the hope that he would speak. She looked at him did not speak, he did not tuis attitude became she at length broke the stillness. “What is it, Jerome?” she asked. “What?"’ he said. “What is the matter?” “Nothing is the matter,” in an aggrieved tone that altogethe; insupportable, and he answered He spoke bitterly, as debtors do. had leaned forward, his elbows on ‘his in his palms, looked more gloomily than ever out the window. The ficlent to mark the outlines of his really fine head, whils the’shadows of ovening softened the lines in his fa uld do it. He ;jleasant lines that a few drawn there. She studied his profile, her eve caressing his curls, the curls she re- membered so well—remembered, becouse she had a troubled sense of thinking now of Jerome as In the pasr, light was just She gazed un- wrought by the short years of their common life passed away, and she saw again the Jerome of old— her own. her lost ideal. S down In some through some mighty sacrifice, some great devotion ple! Why had he failed? tried to do all that a wife could to help and guide him? If he had married some other woman, some woman of coarser Emily Garwood came down the walk fiber, who would not have tried to keep teom . the old house that had been her him conun;slly up to such high ideals? home so long, and at the gate paused 4 for a backward glance of farewell. only gone Had she not some sudden shock smote her, she felt her face grow cold and pale. Another woman married to Jerome Gar- The day of the primaries had marked wood! She caught her breath, her face burned as the blood rushed back to her then suddenly. pulsively, she spoke, as much to herself, it seemed, as to her husband: “I do love you still, Jerome!"” Her heart beat with a new fierce joy. A revelation had come to her, a revelation that had solved her problem in an stant, a thing her reason had not been able to do in long months. “Why of course vou do.” in the old matter of course wa £l turned her face aside, sick with disap- But the revelation of that passionate moment had not been CHILD'S HOSE, made of fast black Egyptian Sea Island coton, double heels, toes and knees, ex- tra long, soft as velvet, sanitary black, stainless, medium weight, full finished, 12%¢ a pair price we ask now... —— Good Hosiery fr the good store e e i i I e — i And here are some that were made expressly for us at a very iow price for such good quality as these: CHILD'S HOSE, cotton, jersey French lisle, in open work lace black, double effect, patterns silk finish, double heels, ‘knees and toes, sizes 5 to heels and toes. i5: all at one price..10¢ a pair o Bwige ajbbed. CHILD'S HOSE, made of real lisle, guaranteed stainless, extra fine gauge, double soles and heels, worth our price LADIES' HOSE, made of soft- finish Egyptian cotton, ribbed front. double heels and toes, war- ranted stainless, full length, di- rect from the mills. No middle- man's profit here, hence the low price -..ceeene -12%e a palr LLADIES’ HOSE. made of extra fine and thin Peruvian cotton, double heels and soles, extra long. sanitary black, just the hose for fight shoes. You will bs mote than pleased when you see them for price and quality..25¢ a palr LADIES' HOSE, made of fast black English thread, in the new- est open work lace effect patterns, full length, stainiess. You would go a great many miles before you could equal these at this price... ees seessss s ROE B bicycle ribbed, Hermsdorf dye, perfect In fit and finish, all sizes; knees and toes, stainless: try a pair and you will be convinced they are what we BT At T RS T T HOSE, made of vel- vet-finished cotton, full seamless. extra spliced heels and toes, wilte just the stocking The small store with the smallest price..23¢ pair HOSE FOR STOUT WOMEN, made of fast black twisted thread, double heels and soles, extra wide and full length; made expressly for us._ "LADIES HOSE, made of prime English cotton, fleece lined, fast black, full finished. feet or soles; for tender feet. The kind that El ingrain cotton, fa: as velvet, doubl eels and toes, full finished, jersey ribbed top. so as to fit snugly and also to pre- vent your hose supporters from tearing them. Price..25¢ a pair Child's EVERLASTING HOSE, made of XXX double heels, fast black and LADIES' HOSE, made of French lisle, in open work lace effect patterns, in many new de- signs, full finish, Hermsdorf dye. Price 23¢ a pair LADIES' HOSE, made of 'vel- vet-finished cotton, 40 gauge, ex- tra spliced heel and toes, fast black. A mighty good stocking for a little price Ike th .. Oc¢ a pai of open work lace lisle, in new fancy striped designs, full finished and extra length. Joe Rosenberg for such good value as these........ ..25¢ a pair HOSE, made of Fng- lish cotton, extra fine, 60-gauge, fast black, silk finish, colored siik, embroidered down the front, per- fect fitting. You cannot duplicate them anywhere in Frisco this low price ..............25¢ a pair her. sure and certain. She could n;il doubt it. That Jerome had taken it o as he had could make no difference no ‘I to her. For the revelation had .nl\»rl her problem, made her duty clear. anc that was enough. The results of th had not been those of her heu re. but she could wait for that she beheld the iight of theory. a new ideal. that quickly < ed Into an Incandescence that llun her wiole ying Jervme stli, she st live for him still, and ths duty ut any regard to what attitude nhe t take. r own hapniness was of no import- : it must come, If at all. as a seconds ry and indirect resuit. . The oid ideal ud the ola amvition had been, afte: ail but selfish, and so had failed not oni realization. but of that nobler sugcess that comes through fallure in the high savors of life. She saw it ail cle now; when they had together dreamed r, it was not with the idea of be- real help to those about them, but of lifting themselves to some place that would distinguish them arti- fically from those about them. And in pondering om_ her relations to in the world besides Jerome. she found that what was true of her rela- tion fo him was true of her relatioas to ; that her duty was to live for them as for him was at last a wer istence, an ideal, not of s 1t _was simple when s self in this literal wa that it was almost trite, ye eonviction that it was none the less mightily true. She would not judge Jer- ome, but him: she would not e pose his s, but cover them with a mantle of charity; 2 wide tha it would cover as ing through the and their sufferings, their pitiable ures and their lamentable mistakes 1 if, even by the slow and loving work years, could win Jerome in time to this new ideal that had arisen out of her darkness as the light of an aut morning without clouds after long ¥'S of rain, then, Indeed. could his talents worthily be devoted to tne people he ready ought he loved w found the faith in life s her existence. It was a new a faith, and she could ong and patiently, if need be, for its complete fulfillment. Under the stimulus of this new-found othe plan of ex- f, but service. put it to he so y simple faith in life, In an almost pathetic de- termination to be practical- the sentimental seemed to be denfed her— decided first that their affairs be placed at once on a secure foundation. So with a touch of her father’'s own un- compiomising rigor in bu she reientlessly cast up all their. ac- ounts, and If she winced when the amount of Jerome's debts stared her in the face, she nevertheless bravely set about paying them off, devoting to purpese all her own income, now g small with the perfodical return of times. And then, last heroism of all, resolved that they must give up their old home. Jerome demurred a little bu presently acquiesced. 3 He was Interested anew in affairs. had perhaps had revelations of his and ¥ he did not have resolutions, nevertheless had hopes. The campaign was on again, and, in a spirit of what he called party loyalty—as one who, win- ning or losing, honorably lives up to all the rules of the game—he was stumping the distriet, and making speeches for the ticket with as much of his old fire as if he had beem on the ticket himself. Long before election his old faction had returned, he was as fu a bumbiebee, and if bis disintere: ness was not so apparent after election, when he felt that his ances of being appointed to a territorial judgeship were increasing more and more as the short session of Congress drew near, it may have been discovered in the fact that, as an alternative, he had revived his old project of going to Chicago to practice law. If he got the territorial judgeship, they would have to move west; in either event, he said, it did not matter much where they lived for the time being. He thought that if they went to Chicagu he might go to Congress from some of the Chicago districts—{t was not hard to get into politics there. But Emily only smiled. She found, through Morton, a tenant for the old home. She sent away the maids, even the nurse, for whom the children cried. and Jasper, who cried himself, until his very despair drove him to refuse to accept the discharge at all. And then she found a smaller house. The last load of furniture had rumbled away In a covered van that afternoon; as the early twilight came she gave a final lcok Into the empty corners of the old home, picking up little things that had been overlooked, and then, with an ache at the heart for its emptiness and loneliness, she bade it farewell. The moving had been an ordeal. She had had all the care of it, though Jerome's 1.other had helped, but beyond this was the spiritual agony of coming across old things she had not seen for years, things of her childhood, things of her girlhood; tlie dress she had worn when first she met Jerome—he had told her to preserve . though he did not know where it was too, of her mother's—a trying a soul already so heavily laden. hurrying along in the gloom of this November evening, she glanced at the big houses of the prosperous, and they repelled her with the flat austerity of their own provincial exclusiveness. As she advanced, these residences that had the effect of casting her off, gradually gave way to homes, rows of cottages, de- creasing in size and importance; but as they grew smaller. Emily observed that they grew more companionable. Lights were beginning to show in their win- dows, the men were getting in from their work, and she could hear the homely sounds of evening chores. By the time she reachied the humbler street where she was henceforth to live, she felt a sympathy with these unam- bitious homes, finding a welcome, as it were, in the honest faces they presented in the dusk. She gave them back a brave little smile. reflesting her wish that she might find the peace they seemed to shelter. Pursued along those silent streets by the memories of the old homé, she sought refuge in planning the furnishing of the new, mentally compressing the too abundant furniture into the smaller compass with which they must now content them- selves. And to her determination to begin anew, she stimulated for the sake of her own courage the pride and joy of a bride’s anticipation in setting up house- keeping. Were they not really begin- ning after all? Had not the years since their marriage been years of makeshift and make-belleve? Were not those years even now falling away be- hind her. while brighter ones rose be- fore? 1In the spring she would have a little garden; she - could imagine John Ethan and his little sister playing among the flowers that would riot there, their little heads bobbing in the vellow sunlight. At the thought of the chiliren she quickened her steps. The house at last came Into sight, standing in a small yard with a low picket fence about it. Some boy was passing by. showing his neighboriiness by rattling a stick along the palings. John Ethan must have known her step, light and hurried it was, for as she turned in at the gate the door of the house opened. and he stood there in the light that came from behind him. e was waiting for her. FHe called to her to hurry. and she ran up the walk, caught him in her arms, and hugged his little body to her breast. The baby had gone -to sleep, too tired to await her mother’s coming. The grandmother was cooking supper amidst the disorder of the furniture and the boxes that had been crowded into the kitchen. As Em- 1ly held her boy to her breast, sha felt the tears welling to her eyes, but she told herself that this was not the time for tears, for here began that new un- selfish iife In which she hoped at some far off distant day to find the peace and bappiness of which she had dreamed. PSP SR S SR EIBN Tl 3 i THE END.