Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1897-03-18
A REALIZED IDEAL.
BY AGNES BROWN

Miss Rossiter sat alone in the IL
brary, gazing pensively into the fire.
When the servant came with the
lights, she had sent him away, say
ing that she preferred sitting by
the freight, and now she leaned
back luxuriously in her great easy
chair. preparatory TO the rather un-
usual indulgence of an introspec-
tive mood.
She ssala not b called nEfo:pss.
tive as a genersl thing, for she was
far too busy with charities, flower
missions, Tolstoi clubs, church and
society in all their fullness, to al
low herself the pupular fad of self
analysis and then there was Tom
Lenfield. She had been engaged
to Tom for nearly a year.
He was a dear good fellow and
was succeeding so well in his busi-
ness, and yet-well, she was vague
ly conscious that she had not been
as deeply disappointed as an en-
gagged girl should be when she had
received his note that day telling
her he had been called out of town
unexpectedly and might not be
able to return in time to be with
her that evening, as he had plan
ned.
She wondered, if, after all, she
did love him as she should.
She sighed q little and determin-
ed to allow herself the pleasure of
feeling rather miserable upon this
subject.
Tom was a dear, she thought,
but if he only had little more
love and appreciation for the things
she cared for.
Not that he was not all love and
appreciation for her, she admitted
to herself, for she knew that he
considered her the very loveliest
and cleverest girl in the world !;
still there was no denying that Tom
was rather slow sometimes, and so
practical. She remembered how
at the art exhibition they had stop
ped before a picture of the impress
ionist school that it was the thing
to admire. To be quite honest, she
was not entirely sure whether she
really understood and admired it
herself, but she had heard 80 much
talk about it from people whose
Judgment she held to be entirely
above criticism that she had at last
persuaded herself that to her, too,
it was replete with life and mean
ing.
At any rate it was annoying to
have Tom look at her in undis-
guised amazement as she praised
its virtues and to hear him ex-
claim THAT daub! You surely
don't admire that?' But then he
was so penitent when she had ex.
planned it to him, and even if he
did not understand it was pleasant
to hear him say: 'You are the
cleverest girl, Nan. l often won
der how you can care for a fellow
whose only pretense to good taste
10 his love for you.' She remem-
bered how, q few weeks ago, at a
symphony concert, she had looked
into Toms face to see if in some
degree he did not feel the Joy of
the music that flooded her soul.
He was fond of music, in his way,
bus he was candid enough to con-
fess that bright, pleasing bit of
light opera brought far more pleas
urable emotions to him than the
most soulful melodies Of the great
masters.
On this particular occasion Miss
Rossiter remembered that he had
returned her rapt expression with
one of anxiety and had murmured
tenderly: What 10 it, darling ? Are
you sitting in q draft p
Oh, dear, it was always drafts,
or something equally annoying to
her. She wondered, if she could
choose for herself, what her ideal
picture would be like.
She pictured to herself several
types of her own creation, finally
waverly between q dreamy Burne-
Jones figure and q hero Of the
Chevalier Bayard type, so dear to
most women. Somehow or other
Toms vigorous personality would
persist in mixing itself mp with her
brain portraits until they were such
q sad composite that in despair she
gave up the personal appearance Of