Jasper County Democrat, Volume 8, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 July 1905 — A VARIATION [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A VARIATION

By ROBERT JERMAIN COLE

“Men are such monotonous creatures. They march together like that always.” The girl waved her hand lightly toward a file of militia that paraded down Fifth avenue. Her companion did not answer immediately. “You must reduce your complaint to specific charges, Miss Breen,” said the young lawyer at length. “What, for example, renders man so tiresome to you?” “I’m sure I don’t know what makes him so. I only know that he is,” returned the girl. “He—l mean they—all wear forever the same kind of clothes, walk with the same stride, stick to the same amusements”— “Are true to the same friends,” finished her listener for her, “and, worst of ail, persist in expressing admiration for the same girl in the same words. You must find it monotonous.” “Don’t be personal, Mr. Roscommon,” protested his companion, with a blush. “I am discussing fact, and that is always personal,” replied the man. “It Is true, isn’t it?” Roscommon had a quiet habit of persistence. He did not talk much, but what he did say was apt to start his companion into a frantic garrulity of self defense. “What do you mean?” asked the girl. “You certainly would not accuse me of bragging about the number of my admirers. I was only speaking in a general way.” Roscommon was silent, and the girl went on:

“I refuse to testify against myself, but you must give me credit for knowing a few other women. Besides, I have read the novels written by creatures of your own sex. They ought to say a good word for the ingenuity of man, yet their heroes all make love In precisely the same way.” They turned as they walked into Fifty-seventh street, where Miss Breen had lived with her aunt since her father's death. She had always gone with a rather gay set, but a few months after she came out her father had lost most of his money. For the last three years that he lived he Insisted on her accepting many Invitations, although they were able to do little entertaining.

Her liveliness of speech and manner, a trifle defiant, masked a hurt pride. She won followers easily among the men—too easily to suit her high spirit. They gave her flattery in plenty, which comforted her as little as gold offered to a starving woman. She was all heart and had almost no vanity. When her father died she was hungry for some one to lavish her affections upon. Yet no one had divined this. The Impression bad gone about that she would marry anybody for money. She hated poverty, but she hated a lie still worse. When they entered the bouse she took off her hat and stood a moment beside a table. “You may sit down,” she said condescendingly to Roscommon. “I shall stand up awhile. You haven’t made me tired yet.” “If you were one of these unvarying men how would you propose to a girl?” asked the young man gravely. Miss Breen promptly sat down. After she had rested and meditated for half a minute, she answered: “It would depend on the girl. That’s the very point. Instead of having a formula, such as you men hand down from father to son, I should study the nature of the woman and find words to appeal to her and to her alone. If she loved flowers, I’d spend my last dime on a rose. They say a battle was lost once for want of a horseshoe. More women’s hearts are lost for want of a chocolate drop than are dreamed of in your philosophy.” “I Lave no philosophy that will fit the race of women," corrected the lawyer.

“I’m glad to hear you admit your Ignorance!” laughed Miss Breen. “I did not say I was ignorant I merely said I had no theories," observed Roscommon. “Vary well, here is a fact for you. I know a man that told a girl of his ambition to be a painter. Then be asked her to marry him. Now, this girl didn't care a hairpin for art and the only idea she had about It was that artists were always poor and

shabby. She was just ready to tan Tn love with him, and If she bad 11 wouldn’t have mattered what he did for a living. If he only bad sense enough to tell her bow prettily her hair s£one In the lamplight he wouldn’t be a sour old bachelor now, and she”— “It looks just as well in the daylight,” remarked Roscommon, addressing the mirror behind Madge. “I hope the subject doesn’t bore you, Miss Breen,” be went on, “but you have made an impossible condition. You say a man should know the girl. That Is well if he can. But now suppose the one thing he knows about her is that he wants to know more. Perhaps the very mystery of her nature attracts him.” “Then let him surprise her into some revelation of herself.” They were silent for a long time after this. The short winter day was almost gone. They could yet see each other through the twilight “Miss Breen, did you ever hear that I was a millionaire?” The question came from Roscommon with startling suddenness. His tone was harsh and had a ring of self satisfaction in it Madge Breen turned impulsively and then looked away, but not before he was aware of the hurt, disappointed expression in her wide open eyes. “No, and I hate you for telling me now,” she flashed. “I did not tell you. I only asked a question." The harshness was all gone from his tone. For the first time that afternoon Roscommon’s voice grew tender. He leaned toward his companion and said:

“They told me you cared only for money—that you had no heart. I knew they lied, but I wanted you to prove it to me. You have shown ine the girl I have been waiting to see. You have taught me the way to woo her. I am not rich, Madge, and if I were I should never dream that money could buy you. You say that all men are alike. All but one, you mean. The man you love will be transfigured. I ask you to be my wife, dear, not because of what I can give you, but because of what I can take. A man with any other ambition would not have room to keep the treasure of your love. You can do what you will with me. The only thing I shall boast of Is a boundless capacity for being loved. Do you want such a man?”

“And you haven’t once said, ’I love you,’ ” she exclaimed with a touch of amusement In her voice. “That is a slight variation from the usual form. Do you suspect I shall do It all?” “You would have to try me to find out, no matter what I might say,” replied Roscommon. “Well,” she breathed softly and then paused. He rose and walked to her chair and waited, with his head bent toward hers. “Please,” she whispered, “if you don’t love me never let me find it out.”

“AND YOU HAVEN'T ONCE SAID 'I LOVE YOU,' "SHE EXCLAIMED.