"
With trembling hands, the gentle old teacher reached for her
handkerchief, which lay in the sewing-basket on the table beside her.
Smilingly, she wiped away the tears that filled her eyes. Lovingly,
she looked up at him,--standing so tall and strong before her, with his
reddish hair tumbled and tossed, and his Irish blue eyes lighted with
the fire of his inspiration.
"Well," she said, at last, "why don't you do it, Brian?"
As a breath of air puts out the light of a candle, so the light went
from Brian Kent's face. Dropping into his chair, he answered hopelessly,
"Because I am afraid."
"Afraid?" echoed Auntie Sue, troubled and amazed. "What in the world are
you afraid of, Brian?"
And the bitter, bitter answer came, "I am afraid of another failure."
Auntie Sue's quick mind caught the significance of his words. "ANOTHER
failure, Brian? Then you,--then you have written before?"
"Yes," he returned. And not since his decision to remain with her had
she seen him so despondent. "To write was the dream and the passion of
my life. I tried and tried. God, how I worked and slaved at it! The only
result from my efforts was the hell from which you dragged me."
Alter a little silence, Auntie Sue said gently: "I don't think I
understand, Brian. You have never told me about your trouble, you know."
"It is an old, old story," he returned.
Pages:
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114