The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-10-11
A GREAT

IA UlklA~AA LINN "A IONa
Alice Arnden was not a woYnan one
would select for a heroine because of
her personality. She was neither large
nor small; she "a beautiful, 1 think
(beauty is a hard thing to define and
limit, but it vas a beauty of no won
derful or unusual type, and was of that
kind which grows on one gradually, as
his knowledge Of the possessor of it
grows. There was a wealth of sweet
ness and purity shining up in her eyes,
which tears could never wash out, and
the mouth indicated firmness and reso-
luton, which had its beginning long
before the nights vigil, which had left
it so sternly agonized.
+ The trouble which had come to Alice
Arnden is of no unusual kind. 1t is a
sudden sorrow, which has crushed out
AL hope in life many times in the past,
and will many times in the future as
long as men and maidens are proud
and willful. One may say, "Only a
lovers QUARREL" but one should re-
member that there are heart tragedies
in this world, under the torture of
which men and m drag put long
lives without finding peace. To Alice
Arnden it seemed as though everything
worth having in life was now forever
utterly beyond her hope.
Y She arose from the seat she had oc-
cupied for so long and moved slowly
around her humble room. She hadnot
known until she moved how much she
was suffering physically; how cold it
was; how cramped and weary she was.
There was really little to do. Her bed
had not been used; her room was in or
der. She had plenty of time to prepare
herself for the task of covering her sor-
row from the gaze of her friends-if
shs could.
She made q fire, and into the fire she
remorsely put all the fragments of the
paper which she had spoiled in her eff
forts to write a simple letter long ago
when her sorrow was new Long agop
Last night! Happiness gives wings of
lightness to eternity dying about our
being and so-called time rather than
eternityl, which we roughly measure
and call minutes and seconds; but
sorrow weights their noiseless feet with
lead.
r Mr.. George Fenby was next among
the actors in this little fragment Of
human life.
He sat at his window that morning as
Alice Arnden sat at hers. His window
looked in the same direction; from it
he saw much the same scene she saw.
The stars faded out for him as for her;
day frightened; the sunlight fell across
his face.
But he sat there with a cheerful fire
near him; he was strong from happy
sleep; his eyes were bright and cheerful,
and looked as though tears had always
been strangers to them, and his lips
were smiling.
The icy marshes seemed to him a
type of the future. Smooth, white,
~pure-tbe light stretching warmly
across them-and with the ocean out
side standing to him, as to her, as a
type of eternity-an eternity which he
felt would be one of strength and hap
piness.
George Fenby thought of what he
had to be thankful for this lovely morn
ing. A small fortune, enough for him
self-and one other, a fair woman, and
good as f2ir-for his promised wife;
health, education, friends, influence,
position; it Was indeed a goodly pros,
pect.
This man was strong and quick;
rood looking, if not handsome. He
looks like a nan who would not do a
wicked thing, or think it, while he
might do a weak or foolish one. He
was a man who would be likely to win
a woman's heart-and hold it.; a mar
whose love a oma might prize, and
the loss of which she might wisely
mou Weak enough to be. a man, he
was strong enough to be one hard tC
win from tho lfn Whinh ho1 ooa1 -
him.
There was a happy smile on his face
as he heard his little brother knock Al
the door, and he answered "Come in
in a CHEEKY voice.
Here's a letter for you, George"
"Thank you," said George, as HI
took it.
"sYou are welcome. By the hand
writing on the envelope I Judge thu
message will be a pleasant one."
And the boy left the room.
A pleasant messagei The smile deep
ened on the mans face as he lovingl'
handled the letter a little time before b
broke the seal. A pleasant message!
These were the words he read:
Mr.. GEORGE FENBY-I will not consent to b
any longer a hinderer regarding your 'highe
ambition" ] never wish to speak with yo
again in my life. 1 give you back your free
dom ALICE ARNDEN.
So Mr.. Fenby's morning gift was tn
gift of his freedom. What should he d
with it? His cheeks and lips grew col
and white at the thought. Mercifu
heavens! What could he do with it?
The sky seemed darkened, the cart
seemed dreary and .desolate. Georg
Fenby and Alice Arnden, a bare quartz
of mile apart, could not have bee,
more widely separated had an ocea
stretched between them. And eac
looked on the same landscape and sa,
alike at last.
The village of Marsham was a sma.
one, and most of it was farther from tn
ocean than were the two houses at tn
windows of which we have seen two III
happy persons;
1t was q relief to both George an
Alice that there was service in the littl
church that morning, and everybod
could be looked for there. Secret sol
row finds a certain abatement of its il
tcnsity in the effort of appearing uncor
cerned. Then there is a mournful plea.
ure in seeing what n has lost.
In q place no larger than Marsha1
everyone knows everybody else. Every
one KNOWS the business OF eVeryDOu
else in some degree, or thinks so, an
says so. So our two friends wer
known, and their relations to eac
other were known also. And so poorl
had they played their parts that whe
service was finished nearly all thei
friends had concluded that their er
gagement was over, and many wer
Specializing as to the reason for it.
Ralph Warden was too shrewd a ma
not to see what everyone else saw. II