Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 164, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 July 1914 — HER AUTHOR-HUSBAND [ARTICLE]

HER AUTHOR-HUSBAND

By CHARLES EUGENE BANKS.

In the dusk of the evening a woman sat at a piano, softly improvising. Outside the katydids trilled an answering refrain. The air was heavy with the fragrance of roses that clambered over the low walls of the

The house, built of hewn logs, Batin the center of a wide stretch of lawn. To the right stood a grove of oak and elm, poplar and maples. To the left ran an apple orchard warm with the blush of early ripening fruit. The woman at the piano rested her hands on the keys and sat for a. moment in alienee. Then she rose and going to a door looking into a room at the back called softly, “William!” “Well," came a deep response*. "May I come In?” .“Certainly, my dear. You are always welcome.”

He laid his pen aside and held out his hand to her. “What is it, little sweetheart? Lonesome, eh? Never mind. I shall be done with this work very soon and then we will have a long play spell.” - “Don’t write any more tonight, dear.” She trailed her fingers softly through his tangled hair. • “It’s so beautiful out of doors. Take me for a stroll under the trees."

"I can’t stop until the book is'done. The proofs are all here and I must change this ending. When the book Is off for good, little one, we will have a long vacation.” “It Is always so,” she said, with a disappointed sigh, “and it will always be. You care more for any one of those scribbled pages than you do for me.” He glanced' up at- her with a half smile, expecting to see « laughing de-nial-of her Words th her eyes. -But she turned away and went back to the piano. Through the doorway he watched her for a moment and then bent again to his* work.

How different was this from the married life she had dreamed of. She was young, pretty, fond of friends, pleasure, music. Before they were married they had artists and litterateurs for their associates and the hours had been bright with wit, repartee and song. Now they had. been for months in this secluded spot, with hardly. an old friend to pay them an occasional visit. He must not be Interrupted in his work. When the book was done they would have time .enough for enjoyment. In his absorption he did' not miss the society of friends, but she had not this needed concentration to fill her hours. Hep heart cried out for sympathy and love, for the touch of nature that makes comrades of two souls, for that answer to the animated heartbeats of a conscioua being, without which life is as a dry well in a desert. She had looked forward with delight to the time when she should be her husband’s confidant, when the people of his creation should be her people, known to her almost as soon as to him, so that she should have a sort of partnership in them, and something to do with giving them to the world. She had planned to be his helpmeet, his inspiration. She had seen herself suggesting a lesser character for a tale, adding a word or a phrase, contributing a witticism. But into that world she had found no entrance. It was a kingdom with but room for one, and she was farther away from it now than when they were married 12 months ago. If her husband took her into his confidence concerning his literary pursuits it was to read her a page here and thepe, and that in such an unaccented way as 'to leave it almost meaningless. He saw she .found no enjoyment in these perusals and gave them dp altogether. Night and day he thought of his work and she grew more and more lonely. She did not doubt his affection for her, but she could not be satisfied with an occasional caress or a gentle word, as the whole expression of it One day, at the little station near their cottage, she met Ralph Farnsworth, and the instant look of admiration that came to his eyes was not* displeasing to her. She had grown so weary of solitude that another being out of their old world was gladly welcomed. He was staying with' a relative in the neighborhood, he told her; his physician had advised the country; but for his part he hated it. He did not go away, however, but planned many ways of meeting the pretty wife of the authep, who found no time from bis books to entertain her. She was too much of a woman not to know Farnsworth remained because Of her. She did not admit it to herself, yet down deep in her heart she was pleased with f the admiration she had awakened in this man of the world, with his air of weariness toward everything. It was something to have power over one who had seen everything and despised it. She was so much alone that he found little difficulty, in meeting her and she began to look forward to those meetings as a rightful release from the changeless round of everyday life to which she had been subjected. ’He was so ready to offer every attention, to anticipate her lightest wish, to discover what was pleasing or interesting to her and make that the subject of his study that the companionship ripened fast Tonight she had been unusually lonely and depressed. The days of her girlhood came back to accentuate the lack of friends' and confidants. Two brothers and a sister had made a

lively houseboto,in which there were few hours of loneliness. Now she was forced to find entertainment within herself and she found the task was burdensome. w The stillness of the house, accentuated by the steady scratching of the tireless pen in the other room, op-, pressed her. She went to the window and looked out. The moonlight fell soft over the landscape. Down at the farther end of the orchard a small red light glowed and disappeared to glow again at regular intervals. SJie could see a shadowy form moving backward and forward under the trees. Down there she knew was conversation, admiration, sympathy. She glanced into the room where her husband sat writing. If only he would give up his work for this evening and talk with her! She pulled a rose from its stem and went softly in to him, putting one arm about his neck and laying the blossom on the page before him. He did not look up, but with a hurried gesture pushed the flower aside and bent over his work. She felt how utterly she was out of his life and turned away with clouded eyes. A few minutes later she was going slowly down the dewy path under the orchard treee toward that glowing end of a cigar. "Dear little woman,” he soliloquized, tenderly. “I might have told her, but I wanted the surprise to come when the work is over so that there will be no interruption to our enjoyment.” H|b bent again over the pages. He did hot hear the rustle of bis wife’s gown as she returned to the house and ran hurriedly up the stairs. Nor did he see her as she came down with a small portmanteau and her cloak.. She paused at the door and threw a hurried glapce into the room where he was, still at bis desk. Then she glided away in the moonlight. An hour later the book was completed and, with a sigh of satisfaction, the author pushed the pages from him and picked up a letter, qf which the seal had already been broken. He drew out the contents from the envelope and, opening the narrow bine sheet, disclosed a check.

“Two. thousand dollars and six months Sn Europe for preparation and study,” he soliloquized. “At last we shall see something of the world under favorable circumstances, sweetheart. Too bad I couldn’t tell you when you were In here just now. I couldn’t have kept the secret a moment if I had spoken. We will make up for this long imprisonment.* It must have been dreadfully dull for you. I’m used to loneliness.” A

H- ' He went through the rooms, the check in his hands and a smile of contentment on his face Passing the open door he paused to look out into the moonlight. Overhead the stars looked down upon nature, serene, fragrant, sweet. Suddenly out of the stillness leaped the shrill cry of a locomotive. It was the night express for the city. He smiled to think that before another night had passed his wife, for whom he had worked so faithfully, would be with him aboard such a train on their way to the land of romance and history. There cartie the puffing of the engine as it gathered head for another onward rush with its load. of human freight. ’ The author turned into the house and mounted, the stairs, a.glad light in his eyes. “She will be so happy,” he whispered, “so happy!"