The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-03-08
A PROFESSORS O

-Hdsntn0J0n Stdf.
-~
A PROFESSORS STORY.
Taking tea the other evening with an
old acquaintance, now professor in a
New England college, the conversation
recalled some of the friends of our
younger days, and he surprised me with
the remark: "a woman's sympathies lie
nearer her heart than her love, unless her
love is born of them" But he surprised
me more by the story he told to prove it.
/ guess it was seven years, he said, that
our chair of astronomy remained vacant.
You knew of DIR. Merdon. 1t WA Justly
that the world finally gave him fame.
Well, after his death the trustees were at
q loss to fill his place. A weak man
would have been insufferable there.
Do you remember his family? Charm
Ing wife and daughter. They spent
several years abroad after his death, and
when they returned, Notwithstanding
that the widow Still wore mourning, the
number of our little social events was
doubled. The daughter had a string of
young m~illionaires after her constantly.
Female society, perhaps you know, wasn't
unlimited, and it was with foundation
of truth that the fellows grimly joked
about calling on the girl their fathers
had courted before them. Charlotte
Merdon was as fascinating a girl as her
mother had been, SO said the old folks,
and it was to her. that young Prof. Lutz
quoted from Horace: "Oh, daughter,
more beautiful than thy beautiful
motherI" when he brought down on him
self the ridicule of the mountain-day
party. Yes, she could have had her pick
from a dozen very rich boys, and l think
abe would have taken it, too, if she
hadn't discovered that her mother was
trying to influence her in their favor.
At the senior party that year Charlotte
held her court as she did everywhere.
She was surrounded, / remember, by the
rich fellows of Charlie -Elliott's set.
Elliott was happy that night. Charlotte
had been unusually gracious, and her
mother had made her favor clearer than
ever.
Over near the door sat the last man to
be expected at q Presidents party, Brent
Seymour. He was senior the year before,
and taking post graduate study at the
observatory Merdon had built shortly
before his death-a town boy, who sup
ported his mother and worked his way
through college, not often seen in society,
and his ill-fitting clothes and embarrassed
manner attested it. Elliott, looking
about the room for a subject for his next
brilliant remark to Miss Merdon, caught
sight of him.
3d." said he, turning to his chum, ~
toll uorr what mill ha n-raof oDar& D-.-z
Seymour up and formally present him to
Miss Merdon. 1t will confuse him. He
won't know what to do, and there'n be q
deuce of a scene.o
The chum complied, and in a moment
had the reluctant Seymour by the arm.
The scene that followed must have beer
all that Elliott desired. For a moment
the poor student stood before the belle.
1t was not unlike the tableau of the beg
gar and the princess. Her easy attitude
contrasted strangely with his painful.
awkwardness. Elliott had not miscal
culated. The effect was immediate. AL
eyes we're turned toward the couple, anc
smile went around.
Charlotte Merdon saw it, and he,
cheeks famed. She had OWNED tn,
heartless joke. To the surprise of thos,
about her she begged Seymour to b,
seated-insisted that he should be seated
Then she tried to draw him into converse
ton. BUTT wasimpossible; embarrassment
seemed to have driven his wits away
Only n remark he ventured; glancin,
at a portrait on the wall, he stammerec
out: CHATS a good picture of the Presi
dent" The portrait was one taken thirt,
years before, and was anything but
good likeness of the President as he the
appeared. The unfortunate remarl
caused another smile. Elliott; was de
lighted-his joke wa a splendid success
Poor Seymour twisted about in his chat
and hung his head; his discontinue wa
complete.
Miss Merdon took a deliberate look @
the picture, and did not smile. eyes,
she said, sit is called a. very good likt
ness of him just after graduation. Hay
you seen the Presidents flowers, Mr. Sey
mour? Let me show them to YOU"
Rising, and excusing herself, she lie
the young man into the greenhouse az
joining the parlor.
HThe dickensl" said Elliott, 'I didn
look for anything like that"
Seymour, rescued in this way from h
trying ordeal, hardly knew what to do
say. He felt as if a milestone had bee
taken from his neck. The pain and IL
of relief worked strangely on b
sensitive nature. He felt that he was
great debit to his companion. He wanted
kiss the hem of her garment. He wante
to cry. He knew he was feeling ar
acting like a fool. He expected that !
should make a greater fool of himse
than in the parlor. But some way ]
didn't care. He had lost all fear of Il
beautiful girl. Her act of mercy hs
brought her nearer than years of a
q~uaintance could. He talked rapidly
the flowers, for he knew of them, al
Charlotte listened-listened wonderil
why she cared to listen, little thinkil
that her sympathy had brought the aw
ward student nearer than he would ha'
been had she known him half her Ii
time and never seen him in pain.
when he pointed out to her the obsery
tory where he worked, the queer
shaped building that showered its da
outlines in the moonlight, Just over t
campus on the hill, she wondered VIII
1t was that prompted her to beg him
take her there, to exact q promise fro
him that, on the very next evening,
would conduct her through the buildir
that had been built after her fathers
ders. She persuaded herself that it "
q desire to see manuscripts of her fathe
which Seymour told her had been Il
there. Perhaps it was.
Notwithstanding her mothers mi
remonstrapce, the next evening foul
her with Brent Seymour in the telesco
room OF the observatory. The roof b
been let down and she was watching t
sian.