A Lover in Homespun / And Other Stories

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e frown to deepen upon the brow of the tall, scholarly, though somewhat morose-looking man who had entered the parlor soon after the sin

ade with deft and almost imperceptible intonation on certain words, c

her eyes, it was evident she was laboring under suppressed excitement. She was a young woman of about twenty-six, singularly beautiful and with a fine intellectual cast

nd laying her hand on the back of his chair, said, in a voice in which the same subtle tone was noticeable: "My lord, you see I have

g in such a manner? Did you wish me to understand through it the state of your present feelings toward me? I dislike to

nd stern, her reply might not

our questions: Your intuitions were correct; I did choose that song purposely for you, and only began to sing it when I heard you coming. As to the question of my sentiments toward you: When you remember that it is scarcely twenty minutes since you, once more, bitterly found fault with me, and that, too, almost before

and muttered under his breath, "I am, indeed, right! She has no

again sternly-as he halted by her side, "You and I, like s

did not notice it; he was sure tha

" He was thinking more of the unhappy days she must have spent with him, during the past two years, than of his own disappointment in her. But she did not understand the words in this way, and thinking

o save others suffering; indeed, were you not evidently so much in earnest, I should certainl

figure to straighten out stiffly-they b

ere before I could go out?" Without waiting for a reply, she drew out her gold watch, and after glancing at it, said carelessly, "I am afraid I shall

you alone; but not to discuss it in the abstract, as you evidently think, but as it concerns you and me, and to try

rifting?" she whispered; "surely it has not come to this between Harold and me!" His back was turned to

h its rich brown covering, he said firmly, but not without some emotion, "We hav

but there was no other si

might, even yet, catch some evidence that her love for him was not utterly dead. During the pause which e

as you know, has held no attractions for you-possibly because I am in it. You have persisted in going out alone to the opera, to parties and social attractions of a like nature, until you have almost become talked about." His voice grew more bitter as he continu

ng the floor in

were no longer pale, but flushed with anger, while her hea

ccomplishments?" she asked, smothering her anger b

f you, and you began to go out everywhere. You knew he was dearer to me than life, and that his memory was with me every hour of the day. How little true sentiment, after all, there must have been in your professed idolization of him. With such a mother it is perhaps well that he is dead!" His voice broke for a moment as memories of the boy he had so idoliz

rtistic disorder at her feet, exposing the richly trimmed dress, and the soft outlines of her fine figu

n, but when he accused her of heartlessness towards his memory, she had grown so unstrung that she could scarcely contain herself. Never before in their differences had h

and dismay had she struck him, than when he hear

allant husband and a gentleman! And so, forsooth, you would desert your wife because she has forgotten the memory of her dead boy-whom she never truly loved-and

spered, almost wonderingly

ss." Then calmly drawing a chair near to his, she said in an amused tone: "And le

away and he looke

t-in fact, you will remember you more than once told me that I was too tender-hearted, and that you hoped deep sorrow woul

deeply earnest. A rush of memories made her emotion so keen that she could not

dy, in which you isolated yourself so, and tried, in numberless little ways, to show you how sorely I needed you-tried to make our sorrow a common one, tried to make you realize that I needed your company and sympathy to save me from the thoughts which seemed to be wearing away my very life. A dog could not more mutely have shown its craving for pity and companionship than I did; but the more I sought you out the more the desire seemed to grow upon you to nurse your own sorrow alone. At last it got so (you must remember) that I saw you only at

t up has been broken into a thousand fragments. In adversity, when your manliness should have stood out true and bright, it warped and has grown to be a pitiable thing. Your life is now so narrow and morbid that you have but little sense of justice left, as is shown by your throwing upon me all the blame for t

ced mockingly down at the bowed head of her husband, which was now pillowed in his hands, and with another burst of musical laughter, swept gracefully over to the piano, seated herself at it, struck a few chords; and then, as if driven by sudden impulse, wheeled quickly round and said: "But the runaway husband shall have something ple

Kathleen, there's

ide world unpit

were loveliest whe

ll

tion, as he laid one on her shoulder, and with t

face. Twice he had tried to interrupt her, but in vain, until finally, almost convinced by her torrent of anger, contempt and derision, that he had indeed lost all hold upon her affections, he had sunk back bewildered in his

o blinded with my own sorrow! How very deeply you must have suffered, dear, with no one to comfort the bereaved mother-heart. As I now look over the past I cannot think how ever I got to think that your nature was shallow, and that your affection for our boy was not deep

adingly towards her: "Gr

med, in a suppressed voice: "There are things, Harold, that a woman cannot forgive and retain her self-respect. Even had I been as fickle as you thought, that would not have been sufficient reason for you to make up your mind to desert me; and in deserting me, place me in a position for the world to suspect, wag its head at, and gossip over. You knew it would do this, and yet it did not alter your decision to throw me over. And now, after having renounced me

onging this interview; nothing will alter my decision; we will both follow out the course you have ma

ran her fingers restlessly over the keys,

deep distress he always grew strangely absent. When near the door his attention was attracted by a little book lying on a table. He picked it up, without appearing to be conscious of doing so, and opened it, but his eyes wan

ch stole into his heart and riveted his lagg

is face when he picked up the book, which she knew he was not conscious of holding; caught the tired droop of his shoulders, and the glint of early grey hair at his temples, a pathetic expression stol

mechanically. "Yes," he went on presently, as though following out a d

ed toward the door. The notes from the piano were now getting fa

ettily worked frame. Taking it down he looked at it for a space and then, unthinkingly, put it into his

gly over the keys. Suddenly the room was filled with a discordant jar-her arms were resting heavily on the k