NIGHT THOUGHTS


Dennis passed out of the heavy, massive entrance to the wealthy brewer's
mansion with a sense of relief as if escaping from prison. The duskiness
and solitude of the street seemed a grateful refuge, and the night
wind was to his flushed face like a cool hand laid on a feverish brow.
He was indeed glad to be alone, for his was one of those deep, earnest
natures that cannot rush to the world in garrulous confidence when
disturbed and perplexed. There are many sincere but shallow people who
must tell of and talk away every passing emotion. Not of the abundance
of their hearts, for abundance there is not, but of the uppermost thing
in their hearts their mouths must speak, even though the subjects be
of the delicate nature that would naturally be hidden. Such mental
constitutions are at least healthful. Concealed trouble never preys
upon them like the canker in the bud. Everything comes to the surface
and is thrown off.

But at first Dennis scarcely dared to recognize the truth himself, and
the thought of telling even his mother was repugnant. For half an hour
he walked the streets in a sort of stupor. He was conscious only of
a heavy, aching heart and a wearied, confused brain. All the time,
however, he knew an event had occurred that must for good or evil
affect his entire existence; but he shrank with nervous dread from
grappling with the problem. As the cold air refreshed and revived him,
his strong, practical mind took up the question almost without volition,
and by reason of his morbid, wearied state, only the dark and
discouraging side was presented. The awakening to his love was a very
different thing to Dennis, and to the majority in this troubled world,
from the blissful consciousness of Adam when for the first time he saw