Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 99: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE WOMAN WITH A PAST braver than she had thought; and yet —and yet Was she disappointed to find, at the test, the poet and dreamer melt like mist wreaths, leaving simple man? Suddenly he seemed all man— elemental, working man, who knew by tradition and inheritance that, if man does not live by bread alone, neither does he live on visions or raptures. A knock sounded at the door, and mechanically Olaf Nilsson went to it and opened it. A fellow lodger handed him a square of white. “Found it downstairs,” he said brief- ly, and went on up yet another rickety flight to a yet cheaper attic room. Olaf Nilsson, as if in a daze, took the letter to the table and stared at it by the light of the candle. Philippa stood perfectly still, looking at him. The boy lifted startled eyes to her, then looked again incredulously at the envelope. After a moment he opened it with hands that shook. The sensitive, delicate violin- ist’s fingers were suddenly clumsy. It seemed that he would never get the folded sheet——— “Oh, my God!” said Olaf Nilsson, not irreverently, but softly and wonder- ingly. He suddenly crushed the letter into a ball, and it dropped at his feet. Pippa saw his face working in the can- dlelight ; there were tears on his cheeks. “Tt is true!” he gasped hoarsely. “They are going to do my symphony. It is all right—all right. The Herr Di- rektor says But read what he says!” He stooped, groping excitedly for the crumpled letter. “Another time,’ said Pippa. Her voice was kind and steady. There was no tremble in it as she added: “I am so glad—for you. So _ thankful—for ou.” Olaf Nilsson turned to her with a radiant look. The chill, dark room was suddenly warm with the light of his face. “And now, Beautiful Beloved,” he cried, “we can be happy. It is not quite the world that I have to offer you”—he laughed joyously—‘but it is a piece of it—a piece of the bright, splendid, golden world! There will be money— see, the Herr Direktor says I have only 89 to ask—there will be hundreds—many hundreds of dollars, dear heart—think of it! I can buy you dainty things al- most worthy of you!” Pippa looked down at her slim, lovely hands. The rings that she had left be- hind her when she came to-night were worth many thousands of dollars. Was it possible that he did not know? Was it conceivable that he really believed he could give her some material pleasure with which she was not satiated? Alas, he could find no jewels to give her that would be new—she had wanted only his dreams; and it was too late for them. “Let us go out and celebrate,’ went on the boy eagerly. “I have-the rent money saved up. We can use that, and ° to-morrow I shall see the Herr Di- rektor. Oh, Most Dear, we will go to a restaurant where there are flowers, and lights, and—yes, I will even endure their execrable music to-night—and we will have a wonderful dinner!” Pippa put her hand to her throat. Oh, those “wonderful dinners” that she had had with other men! She knew that if she went into a restaurant with Olaf Nilsson, and saw his poet’s face in the light of a little, red-shaded lamp, she would die! She fastened her jacket quietly and turned to the door. “Where are you going?’ he exclaimed in affright. “Pippa! You are not going leave me now? You came to +9 to me “That was different,’ she said stead- ily, as she opened the door. “It is all,’ she smiled faintly in the candlelight, “all a matter of standard. We were two derelicts—two souls groping toward each other. Now you are a successful composer, and I am—Pippa Carpenter. It is all a matter of standard,” she re- peated. “I couldn’t stay now—you don’t need me, and so I couldn’t stay.” She was passing through the door- way when she paused, and looked back rather wistfully. “Do you know,” said Pippa gently, “T almost wish that letter had not come, Olaf Nilsson.” So she went away and left him in the candlelight. (C@ IOoOkK (E@)