The courier. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1894-1903, August 15, 1896, Image 11

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    THX COUXIXB.
tr
MR. JACK DEVERWEfcfo.
(A Decided Man of Indecision.)
New York is bounded on the north by
Long Acre square, on the south by
Union square, and on the east and west
by outer darkness, which has a waver
ing locus somewhere about Third ave
nue on one hand and Eighth on the
other. In summer the city limits in
clude Coney Island and Newport; of
the two, Newport is the livelier, but
Coney Island is the more respectable.
Mr. Jack'Deverwell was well known
and popular in both of these suburbs,
being a good-humored and tactful
young man, with practically unlimited
money. Normally he was quite well
pleased with himself, and, consequently,
with all the world. But one morning,
at Newport, he awoke feeling distinctly
ragged.
Mrs. Deverwell and he had been at a
little dinner dance the night before, and
he was entirely unable to recall whether
Ellen had left before or after be and
Mr. Bob Hetherington had set off a
pack of firecrackers in the conserva
tory. It was very funcy, of course, but
Ellen never cared for that sort of
thing. .So Mr. Jack felt disturbed as
he reflected on the evenbj of the previ
ous night. It was early, and Ellen was
not yet awake, so Mr. Deverwell, with
just a suspicion of panic, decided to ride
up through Middletown for a fresh air
tonic. The morning was crisp and
sparkling, all sharp, green and blue, as
Newport mornings are made, and he
idled on as far ae the Stone Bridge,
where, to the surprise of the populace,
he put up for breakfast at a little bar
room, which anj one but a man of
Jack's varied tastes and experiences
would have passed on a trot. After a
plain but soothing repast of eggs and
bacon and a brisk canter back by way
of Purgatory and Easton's Beach, he
felt better able to meet his spouse, and
met her, bravely enough, in her own
sunny room. She was passing the
time, while waiting for her wagon, in
reading a bad habit which had clung
to her from childhood. If any griev
ance against Jack remained, it was for.
gotten in the interest aroused by the
bock.
"Jack," she said, as he came in, her
eyes snapping with excitement, "have
you read this 'Physical Elements of
Mental Weakness? It's given me eome
fine hints for my Home for Feeble
Minded Children!''
He took the book out of politeness,
saying, "Oh, yes, it's the newest thing;
very philosophical same as 'Degenera
tion and 'Outre Mer,' I suppose. I
don't have time for much of that kind
of thing, you know. By the bye, what
do you think of that horse your brother
brought from Long Island? It looked
to me to be all right."
Do you know, Ellen glared at him, if
it be possible for such a nice girl to
glare. "I don't believe you've read any
thing better than a racing index for a
year," she answered, indignantly. "If
you keep on you'll be a a, well, you'll
forget how to Bpell. Jack, it's almost
wicked for any one as clever as you are
to think about nothing but horses "
"Oh, come now," said Jack; "that's
hardly fair. I like boats, too, and as
for society, I've been in every event on
the card this summer. It's a matter of
taste, that's all, I know horses and
like 'em, and you know the book busi
ness, at which I admit I'm an early
quitter; but you don't know such a
jolly lot about horses."
This philosophical discussion was
very opportunely interrupted by the ar
rival of Mrs. Deverwell's trap, and the
spanking bays in front of it being in no
humor for waiting, Ellen was obliged to
leave, and Jack would have forgotten
their chat altogether had he not been
forcibly reminded of it later.
As he rode out again that afternoon.
he was caught in the ruck of people on
Bellevue right beside a caleche in which
were two ladies, one of whom held a
big, fluffy white' parasol between Jack)
and herself so that the ladies could not
see him. The parasol, being of lace,
did not prevent sound from puseiug, and
both Jack and the caleche moved very
slowly for just a minute.
"Mrs. Deverwell doesn't go in for
horses very much." came a high, rasp
ing voice from behind the parasol.
"Very literary and philanthropic and
that kind of thing. All he thinks of is
horse, I fancy, and possibly rum. It
was an odd match enough."
"Yes, 'twas hardly made in heaven,"
answered the other woman she had a
still, small voice; ou heard her uis
tinctly, yet she spoke in a sort of inidi
OU8 whisper. "I think of iate she's
wearied of him, too of him and his
stupidity. She shows it rather, it seems
to me. She'll be miserable enough be
fore"
The caleche whipped up.
Jack was positively brigbt at dinner
that night, quoted abit.oL poetry which
Ellen recognized as Keat's, never spoke
of a horse for an hour on end, and, in
deed, behaved so singularly, that old
Mr. Everden Ellen's father said to
his wife: "The idiot must be sick."
Besides, Jack hardly touched his wine,
and more than once before he had
drunk more than is good among decent
people.
Ellen, who had felt a strange dis
quietude for some time, brightened up
and watched him admiringly; he was a
splendid fellow. She found a chance
to chat with him for a minute and
praised him for a thoughtful comment
on some passing bit of news.
"Ob, I'm on good behavior after what
you said this afternoon," laughed her
husband.
"Good boy," she answered, as they
came upon Miss Maddas and Bob Ileth
erington. "Won't you try to keep it
up, though?"
Jack turned in early, 6lept the sleep
of the just and of the very tired, and
awoke next mornirg feeling particularly
well. He lay thinking for a minute.
"Won't I try to keep it up?' he
mused; then his brows knit. "I sup
pose Ellen would starve herself to build
libraries and Sunday schools for the
feeble-minded orphans and tommy-rot
like that," he thought.
"That man's left the water running
again," said Jack as he went to his
bath; "I must speak to him about it."
Then he laughed, shortly, as if it were
a huge joke that he should warn his
man. He shaved in front of an old
French mirror in quaint ormolu-encrusted
frame, which Ellen bad picked
up somewhere. It was a handsome face
that the mirror reflected brave, frank
eyes, a good forehead and a cleancut
jaw. But the mouth was absolutely un
defined; it was made to smile indolently,
weakly, whimsically. When he had fin
ished shaving he went back through
his room and the bathroom beyond to
Ellen's room. But he turned hastily
and shut the door softly after only half
a glance at the bright, flushed face so
sharply contrasted against the blue and
gold bed. He shut the other door into
his room, then took his old shaving
mirror and set it in a strong light in the
room beyond.
He would not use the mirror she bad
given him.
There was a morocco box on the table
frcm which he took a long-barrelled
French pistol. Probably it was the
first time in his life that the whimsical
mouth had ever been set in a straight,
determined line. Certainly, it was the
last; for, standing before the old mirror,
he put the barrel carefully to his
temple; there was a red flash from the
steel that the sun did not lend, and he
fell, sidelong, crushing, in his fall, the
mirror which she had given him.
And all the world talked of tbis for
nearly a day a half. Some laughed and
said "rum;' some raised their brows and
said "very bad form;" others looked
wise and said naught; but Ellen,
widowed and weeping, is free. The
Coroner.
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