The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-06-14
SHUT OUT.


cemDer, and wired RolleSton is walking along
| a crowded London street with his face turned
/ westward A few moments ago and he was
| scarcely conscious of where he was where he
meant to go; he was walking on mechanically in
heavy stupor, through which there stole
haunting sense of degradation and despair that
tortured him duly. And suddenly as if by
| magic, this was vanished; he seems to himself
to have walked from a miserable daydreamgto
the buoyant consciousness of youth and hope
| Temperaments which are subject to fits Of heavy
| and causeless depression have their compensa-
tons sometimes in the very violence of the re-
| action which follows; the infesting cares, as in
| Longfellow's poem, fold their tents like the
| Arabs, and as silently steal away" and with
| their retreat comes an exquisite eXhilaration
| which more equable dispositions can never ex-
perience.
| Is this so with Rolleston nowl He only knows
that the cloud has lifted from his brain, and
that in the clear sunshine which bursts upon
him he can look his sorrows in the face, and
that there is nothing so terrible in them after
| ALL
| 1t is true that he is not happy at the big city
| day school which he has just left How should
| he bel He is dull and grabbed and uncouth, and
| knows too well that he is general object of dis
| like; no one there cares to associate with him,
| and he makes no attempt to overcome their
prejudices, being perfectly aware that they are
| different from him and hating them for it, but
hating himself, perhaps, the most
And though all his evenings are spent at
home, there is little rest for him even there's for
| the work for the next day must be prepared, and
he sits over it till late, sometimes with desperate
efforts to master the difficulties, but more often
staring at the page before him with eyes that are
almost willfully vacant.
All this has been and is enough in itself to
| count for the gloomy state into which he had
| sunk. But-and how could he have forgotten
| it!-it is over for the present.
| Tonight he will not have to sit up struggling
with the tasks which will only cover him with
| fresh disgrace on the morrow; for whole
month he need not think of Them nor of the
classes in which the hand of every one is against
| him, For the holidays have begun; to-day has
| been the last of the term. Is there no reason
| for joy and thankfulness in that What fool
| he has been to let those black thoughts gain
| such hold over HIM
Slowly, more as if it had happened long time
| ago instead of quite recently, the incidents of
the morning come back to him, vivid and clear
| once more-morning chapel and the doctors
! sermon, and afterward the pretense of work and
| relaxed discipline in the class-rooms, when the
results of the examinations had been read out
with the names of the boys who
| had gained prizes and their remove to the form
above He had come out last, of course, but no
one expected anything else from him; laugh
| had gone round the desks when his humble total
| closed the list, and he had joined in it to show
! them he didn't care. And then the class had
| been dismissed, and there had been friendly
| good-byes, arrangements for walking home in
| company or for meeting during the holidays
for all but him; he had gone out alone-and the
| dull darkness had come over h i'm from which
| he has only just recovered.
But, for the present at all events, he has got
| rid of it completely he is going home where, at
least, he is not despised, where he will find
sanctuary from gibes and jostlings and imposi-
tions; and the longer he thinks of this the higher
his spirits rise, and he steps briskly with kind
| of exaltation, until the people he passes in the
streets turn and look at him, struck by his ex
preston ''They see how jolly I'm
| feeling" he thinks with smile.
The dusk is falling, and the shops he passes
| are brilliant with lights and decorations, but he
does not stop to look at any of them; his mind is
| busy with settling how he shall employ himself
on this the first evening of his liberty-the first
for so long on which he could feel his own
| master
At first he decides to read Is there not some
| book he had begun and meant to finish so many
days ago now that he has even forgotten what
| it was all about, and only remembers that it
was exciting?
And yet, he thinks he won't read tonight
not the very first night of the holidays.
Quite lately-yesterday or the day before-his
mother had spoken to him, gently but very
seriously, about what she called the morose and
! undisciplined temper which would bring misery
upon him if he did not set himself earnestly to
overcome it.
Anu IHere were JlmeS, ne Knew Wnen III
| seemed as If a demon possessed him and drove
him to wound even those who loved him and
| whom he loved-times when their affection only
| reused i'll him some hideous spirit of sullen con-
tradiction
He feels softened now somehow, and has
new longing for the love he has so often harshly
repulsed. He will overcome this sulkiness of
his he will begin this very evening; as soon as
he gets home he will tell his mother that he is
sorry; that he does love her really, only that
when these fits come on him he hardly knows
what he says or does.
And she will forgive him only too gladly, and
| his mind will be quite at ease again. No, not
quite; there is still something he must do be
| fore that He has a vague recollection of
| long standing GOODNESS between himself and his
younger brother, Lionel. They never have got
on very well to gether Lionel is so Different
much cleverer even already, for one thing; bet
| ter looking, too, and better tempered What
| ever they quarreled about. Wilfred is very sure
| that he was the offender Lionel never begins
that kind of thing. But he will put himself in
the right at once and ask Lionel to make friends
again. he will consent readily enough-he al
| ways does
And then he has a bright idea; he will take his
brother some little present to prove that he
really wishes to behave decently for the future.
| What shall he buy!
He finds himself near large toy shop at the
| time, and in the windows are displayed several
regiments of brightly coored tin warriors-the
very thing! Lionel is still young enough to de-
| light in them
Feeling in his pockets, Rolleston discovers
more loose silver than he had thought he
possessed and so he goes into the shop and asks
| for one of the boxes of soldiers. He is served
by one of two neatly dressed female assistants,
who stare and giggle at one another at his first
words, finding it odd, perhaps, that fellow of
his age should buy toys-as if, he thinks indig-
nantly, they couldn't see that it was not for him
| self he wanted the things.
But he goes on, feeling happier after his pur-
chase They will see now that he is not so bad
after ALL it is long since he has felt such cray
ing to be thought we'll of by somebody.
A little further on he comes to a row of people,
| mostly women and tradesmens boys, standing
on the curbstone opposite man who is seated
| in little wooden box wheels drawn up close
to the pavement He is sparalytic and blind,