The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-12-26
.ATTHE CHURCH DOOR

he said he was glad he was going to get
home in the autumn.
That indicated a radical change Of SEN
timent. During his five years sojourn
abroad he had frequently pictured his
home coming and these charming vi
gnettes and pastels were Invariably tinged
with the brightness of the spriDgtime.
His was an imaginative temperament, and
he had reveled in dreams of triumphal
marches through avenues and drives where
tender leaf and opening bud and fragile
bloom, all radiant with the perfume of
newly awakened earth, nodded and smiled
at him from either side, while admiring
friends thronged round him with adula-
ton and praise in recognition of the fame
and honor he had won. 1t was in that
season of the year that he had gone away,
and his fancy had evoked beatiflc visions
OF a reunion with old friends, in whose
company his genius should shine forth re-
splendent in contrast with their mediocre
attachments They had been inspired by
no such heaven born aspirations as he, and
it was only fair to presume that they had
not passed the half way point of the ladder
on whose topmost rung he was securely
poised. That was the way he reasoned.
He had intended to come back the spring
after his pictures met with such q decided
success in three European capitals, but his
sister frustrated his plans.
Il
months, she wrote. "Don't come until
fall .
The long anticipated home coming was
gloomy enough to suit even his tastes,
which delighted in those extremes of life
that unite to form a harmonious whole.
There had been binding dashes and fur
ries of snow during the morning. By
noontime those sudden outbursts of the
storm had been superseded by a strong,
steady wind that shrieked and whistled up
and down streets and alleys and whipped
into the faces of pedestrians the millions
of sharp pointed icy needles that leaked
out now and then from the leaden sky
Then, be had left New York two days
sooner than he had planned. and his sister,
who made all her arrang ements according
to schedule time, had gone out of town for
a few days. Consequently the telegram
which he had sent prior to his departure
had failed to fulfill its mission. There
was no carriage awaiting him ct the depot,
and the hired cab deposited him before a
house whose pretty mistress had flown and
taken the spirit of hospitality with her
At 3 O'Clock he found himself in the
rooms of young man who had been his
boon companion in days gone by That
gentleman had been laid up with rheuma-
tism for several weeks, and having been in
no condition to read or to receive visitors
he had but little to tell, but he was moro
than anxious to listen to a recital of the
achievements and plans of the other
The young artist was reticent at first.
Presently the chimes of St Andrews pealed
out once more, and with their music came
a desire to break through the barrier of re-
serve be had built round him after going
abroad and to talk freely with some one.
"Ah, the chimesl" he said, stepping to
the window, which commanded a view of
the church near by. sThey do my heart
: I
with sadness today, but for all that they
are welcoming mo home. And what mem
cries they awaken Do you ever see Mary
Conover? I wonder if she is organist
there now?''
81 think she is said the rheumatic
sufferer feebly.
'sYou asked me a moment ago" said
the artist, what was my main object in
coming home III tell you. I have never
acknowledged it to myself before. In fact
I don't know that it has ever been clearly
defined. I think the playing of the chimes
must have cleared my brain of oobwebs
just now and brought out my objects and
desires clear cut as a cameo. came home
to marry Mary ConOver.
ITO marry Mary COnover?' repeated tho
rheumatic blankly. "Why, 1 didn' know
you were engaged.
sWere not, and never were. But I'm
going to marry her. - And the artist
smiled. 'You see, it was just like this:
had always admired Mary, and before GO
ing away 1 was on the point Of proposing
marriage, but after due consideration I de-
oided that it was wiser to remain unfetter-
ed. I looked at it in this way: knew
that with proper study and application my
future would be a creditable one. In 9TH
er words, knew that I had it in me to
reach the summit of success and that
wealth. fame and power would be mine.
And 1 didn { know whether Mary COnoyer
would be fit mate for me when I attained
all that She was always the dearest, best
and sweetest girl the Lord ever let live, but
she was such simple, quiet little thing
that I thought I might find it policy to
choose somebody better qualified to do
honor to my station. It has taken me years
to find out, but at last l realize that there
is no other woman like Mary Conover 1t
makes no difference what else I may have
without her life Will be Incomplete. The
probation must have been pretty hard for
her, forced as she has been to conceal her
emotions but won { keep her in suspense
much longer. Hellol There's something
going on over at the church. I think I'll
go over and slip inside and see how tho old
place looks. .
When he reached the streets, the chimes
rung out the opening strains of 'Lohen-
grim and through the windows of the car
rage that had been driven up close to the
curb he could see that the bride had come.
The unlimited guests still retained their
places waiting to catch one glimpse of the
bride.
And presently she came.
Half an hour later he went up TO his
friends rooms.
81 staid away too long" he said. 81
made a mistake. A woman can t wait for
ever. Chicago News.
A scotehman's Idea of Drunkenness.
"Ben and I bid young Bannister an
Calder to dinner at RadIey's They i have
no laughin an singin there, but We took a
private room-like yacht owners fra