Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 282, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 November 1911 — MARRIED LIFE, SECOND YEAR [ARTICLE]

MARRIED LIFE, SECOND YEAR

HICIEN WAS SITTING out Un lM yard under the fibte, BeWfhg on * little white dress for Winifred: te was ‘be second week of her convalescence The color had returned to bfer cheek? Mid afltg was rapidly fMftlng strength Winifred lay on a rug at her feet, playing with a large ma Here eat, that •treacled IteMf fully on the grass and tnbmltted wfth Ttffty indifference, to Iwcaiwis. Through the open stlttlng-room Window cause the hum of a sewing machine. For the iMt few days Mrs. Baker, the Tillage dressmaker, had been sewing there. Heleh to St. Louis for samples of dimities and lawn® and had ordered enough to make several dainty Sumner dresses for both herself and Winifred. And now Mrs. Baker and her u’o her and Aunt Mollie were all helping to make theip. They were glad that she should have this interest and diversion durlr*g the tedium of her convalescence. B it to Helen It meant far more than l.iit She was planning to go back Warren with some pre'ty, fresh, rumn.e.- dresses to make herself and Winifred as dainty and attractive us he could. "And we are to begin over again fils last words still sung In her heart, she wanted, td make of her return ome thing. of a setund honeymooh, nd a happier and more beautiful one inn the first. the was planning countless lltth vays by which sb© would make him Jove her more. She would never let •tm see her eare’escly dressed again Every morning she would put on a lainty house gown and every evening dress for d-nner more carefully than she ever h?d be’ore. And she would try not to show het love quite so much, she would be more reserved, more elusive. She would make him geek her caresses She would not give them unasked — and perhaps he would value them more.

Helen pondered much over the long talk she had had with her father, just after Warren left. She realized the value of his advice, even that ' part which had hurt her most. "From what I had seen of Waren I judge he Is a man who would become satiated with love too freely given. I know all the tenderness of your nature and how you crave affectton. But Helen I believe you would receive more from Warren If you gave him lees.” And now, she was going to give him less. Not that she would be sc apparently cold that he would divine her purpose. But she would be dell cately, shyly elusive She would make hlm'fcel that, now, having been awaj from him so long, she could not heli but be a little diffident —that absence had made him something of : ■ stranger, and that only by his love could he win her anew. The soft color deepened in her face as she planned and dreamed of aF the possibilities of happinces their reunion would bring. She remembered vividly a novel shi ' had once read. In which a woman bar always held her husband a lover bj her very aloofness, by a reserve and mystery With which she surrounded herself. And, feeling that he hat' never quite won her, he remained evei an ardent wooer. . It Is the lack of pursuit, the feeling of assured possession, of nothing more to attain, that brings satiety in mar ried life. ■While Helen had .vaguely realized, this, yet. blinded by her own deep unwavering love, she had tried to be lieve that Warren’s love would be as unfaltering. This Is the greatest injustice of sex that, once having won a woman’s love the man can afford to be himself—but the Woman never can. Upon hei rests always the anxiety of keeping his love. She can never quite afford to be “just herself.” Part of her nature she must withhold and part of it she must dissemble. “Helen, can you come in now and try this on?” Her mother called tt her from the porch. It was a dainty blue and white dim Ity house gown and, as Helen tried it on before the mirror, she was happilj conscious that it made her look ver, young and girl’ah. Her illness seemed only’ to have accentuated the delicacy of her femininity, which was always her greatest charm. Mrs. Baker was critically adjusting the sleeve. “I think there's a little too mnch fullness here at this undei arm seam. Don’t you?" Helen nodded absently. Her mind was not on the under arm seam. She was wondering if Warren—when he saw her In this—would realize that she was still young and girlish? The very simplicity of the gown recalled some of the youthful dresses of he« girlhood—when first he had met and loved her. She remembered once when he was walking beside her, h« had reverently touched a fold of hei dress. “Such fine dainty stuff—it looks just like you." And her heart had beat wildly M she had felt his longing to take her In his arms, and her Own to lie there Could she ever make him feel for hei again—whgt be had felt then? “Now this side of -the skirt te just the right length—lsn’t It? Shall > make the other side by* this?” Again Helen nodded. Would ha Am»tlca how slight and graceful abe took ed In this? And bow the pale bine brought out the glint of gold in hei hair? "Now that’s all.** Mrs. Baker unpinned the colter. "You can take it off.’* . r As Helen slipped out of the dress, site caught a fleeting glimpse to the mirror of her bare white arm and neck. Oh, if he could only see her as she looked now! She went back to her sewing under the trees, and to dream On till US—the tofig gnldesa afternoon—dreams that were always of Warren and of all their reunion might mean.