University of Oregon monthly., February 01, 1908, Image 16

U niversity of O régon M onthly
19
at. the end of their mysterious journey over the vast -Pacific, sang
to her a sad and melancholy refrain. Sad, worn' with secret worry
and sleepless nights, she had succumbed at last to the sinister, pow­
erful influence that proved itself stronger than her courage. Her
home held for her no solace but its isolation. Her mother had died
years before and the recollection of that first sorrow added to the
already heavy burden.. Her father, absorbed ip his lumber interests,
was not one in whom she cared to confide, and ostensibly ill health
covered the ■ nèeded explanation of her return, an explanation her
appearance abundantly confirmed.
■
T o Mary the blackness pf despair offered no'ray of light. Over
and over again she would'go to the headland wherè the surging surf
seemed to keèp time to the uncontrollable intensity, of her emotions,
Only to fling herself down at last on the earth and weep until phys­
ical exhaustion from her shuddering sobs had dulled the pain. .As
the days passed, listlessness settled upon her, and from this apathy
came forth as reaction to her former '.uncompromising rectitude a
certain cynicism,
Spring was full grown when to Mary, now somewhat con­
temptuously defiant ^o the voice of convention, came the* tempter
with à face1 like a Greek god, the mind of a musician and a poet, and
a moral abyss which served him fpr a soul. He came in the capacity
of an expert to install a new lumber^ plant which her father was
having built. Certainly he was not one to let opportunity pass,
and his cultivation pf the acquaintance of Mary followed as a matter
of course. He was skillful in the ways of women. He knew his
power; The gift of music was bis anT He could make the piano
plead irresistibly for his heart’s desires. Under the magic of his
touch the beautiful harp7tòned old piano that bad belonged to
Mary’s mother sang a new song and one which was entirely foreign
to its i stern, uncompromising -soul. „Graceful, intricate patterns
began to weave themselves1, evanescent children of capricious fancy
that came and went like the shadows in the forest. It was as though
the spirit of music had.taken a holiday and, like some golden-
Winged butterfly, fluttered irresponsibly across the fields touching
only the beautiful.
It Was a new world to Mary, the world of art, and she aban­
doned herself to the enjoyment of its charm. ^Imperceptibly there
grew into its careless patterns a gossamer thread that appeared and
vanished, tame arid went, until its insistence began to make definite
appeal, grew to be the warp that gave continuity to the seemingly