THE MAKING OF A DEGREE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2366, 5 December 1908, Page 12 (Supplement)

THE MAKING OF A DEGREE.

(By Jo Florence.)

"When Tom "Winters awoke it was with a languid sense of weight upon him, as if the wheels of his physical machine had suddenly been turned backward. He lay for some time in that half-conscious state .bordering upon slumber, when the fitful conjuring of the mind go hand in hand with the realities of wakefulness. A sudden breeze outside rustled the leaves upon the lawn, moving the window blind and swaying the curtains to and fro. The sun shone in on the carpet in warm golden spots, and Winters moved uneasily as if conscious of the sudden flood of light m the darkened chamber. As lie came to a realising sense of bis surroundings he remembered that he had been out at a banquet at the Goodfellow’s Club, of which he was a member. He had promised himself that lie would not indulge in any champagne that night, but he found it very difficult to return to the associations of his bachelorhood days and not feel something of the old inclinations and desires. He half envied his bachelor friends, and would feel no remorse at the dawn of another day. To be sure, lie would not have changed places with any of them, at the same time he was conscious of a. lost freedom —to do as he pleased, with no unpleasant questions and explanations to follow one’s relatives-in-law. As the night wore on the spell of the hour was upon him, and the whitewinged conscience was benten hack by Winter’s other self. He would indulge himself in taking one glass, for the sake of the old days. He was cajoled into a second and a third, and after that all was as blank. He arose and glanced in the mirror. His reflection was anything but assuring. “Edith will be proud of me,” he ejaculated, turning away with disgust. He glanced about the room. Everything was in order, His dress suit had been removed, and a neat business suit lay folded across a chair ready for use. Even his shoes looked orderly, with the toes facing a pattern on the carpet, and the heels in line. r He wondered if his wife had heard him, or if he had made any disturbing noises upon entering the house the night before. He consulted his watch. It had stopped. Could it be possible that he had slept until •late in the afternoon? Clearly the sun indicated that. Where could Edith be •that he had been allowed to sleep all this time? Grave apprehension of his wife’s attitude towards him caused him to glance uneasily in the direction of the door leading to her apartments. He determined to make his toilet, alone, irather than ring for his valet. He moved around the room with noiseless steps lest she might hear him, for he wished to postpone the interview as long as possible. He even thought of tying the sheets together to make a rope—and let himself out through the window, rather than meet her accusing eyes. With razor poised •and brows tightly drawn, he stood vainly endeavoring to remember just what had happened after leaving the club. Before he had finished dressing the servant announced dinner. A little later, when Winters descended the stairs, his heart beat uncomfortably hard. His hand trembled slightly as he drew aside the portieres leading to the dinning-room. One glance revealed the fact that his wife had not yet made her appearance. He busied biinseh c looking looking over tha.pi ail—an invitation to a reception, a bill for ice and a juilijfl&ry announcement comprised the list, He tossed them aside, and, turning, touched file bell. As the servant appeared, ho said: “Ask .Mrs. Winters if she wishes dinner served.”

“She has gone away, sir.” ‘‘‘Gone away!” echoed Winters; then sat staring in silence.

James coughed apologetically as ho caught the glance of surprise on his master’s face. Winters studied the carving in the sideboard opposite. Presently lie said, “James, did I make any noiso when I came home last night?”

“Not exactly, countin’ you are in your.own house, sir.”. “If I had been in any other place?” “Well, it might be called a little disturbin’.” “What did I do?” “You sang mostly, sir!” “What did I sing?” • “Something about the last boose of summer, sir.” Winters,looked serious. “Was that all I did?” he said. “Mostly, sir.”

Winters sat for some time in silence. James shifted his position, l>y way of reminding his master that he was still waiting.

“You may go, James,” and Winters arose and passed out of the room. He went directly’ to his wife’s apartment. As lie expected she was not there. Every article in tlio room reminded him of her dainty presence. Her embroidery, half finished, lay upon the table, and her toilet articles were thrown about in pretty as if sho had made a hurried toilet. He 'opened her wardrobe; she had evidently left everything behind, lor her gowns were there, like Bluebeard’s wives, all hanging in a row. He sat down in deep dejection. No doubt her sensitive nature shrunk from such vulgar courses, mid she had fled in self Ale fence. This, then, was the end of it all! In his bitterness he blamed liis wife for being too hasty. She could have waited for him to explain. All women were too hasty in their judgment of men. Poor man! He did not realise that the desire to place the burden of his own sin upon liis wife was not the result of the •.roman’s fault, but rather the hereditary disxiosition for disposing of his own misdeeds. “The woman did it !” has found lodgment in the ear of man from Adam down.

Though a bachelor when he married, Winters had numerous ideals and illusions. One of these was his marriage. He had meant to live up to it, aud had failed. It was the death knell of. this that kept ringing in his ears, and he felt that his wife was marking the strokes. Thoughts of her grief and disappointment in him stung this pride, mid he bowed liis head in self-abasement.

So absorbed was be in thought that he did not hear a light step in the doorway.

“Dear Tom, did you miss mo?” and a pair of soft arms stole round his neck. He tried to speak—sho placed her finger on liis lips. “Let me explain—it was all a mistake. You see, my brother Dick, who is at college, went out with the boys amf drank too much sherry, and papa got hold of it, and was on the point of sending him to South America, where lie has mines. You know what that meant to poor Dick, who is desperately in love with Nellie Douglas. He telegraphed me last night to go and talk papa over. I had hardly time to catch the train. I wrote you a noie, and in my great hurry I put it in the bottom of my travelling bag, and never discovered it until I home!” she said, all in one breath. “Oh, I am so glad to be home again f” _Slie rested her cheek against his face for one brief moment, and then drew back and looked into his face.

“I belli eve you did miss me!” she went bn. “If you were a woman, I would certainly think you had been crying, for your eyes are swollen, -and you don’t look yourself. ” -j “I haven’t been myself, " Edith, I’ve—”

“Never mind, dear,” she interrupted, “let us not talk about it, only don’t be too hard on poor Dick. He is terribly broken up over the affair. When a man is repentant, he can do nothing more.”

“Yes, he can! He ought to make a confession to the woman 1 he loves.”

“I do not 'agree with you,” she said, stoutly. “Not if he got full and made an idiot of himself like Dick, for instance?”

“No, indeed! He ought to think of her happiness first of all. He should simply determine never to allow such a thing to occur again.” “I do not think ho ever will,” said he, earnestly. y Catching the light upon their faces, the little god of love climbed,upon his golden throne and smiled down upon them.