The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1898-10-12
a REALIZED IDEAL.

a REALIZED IDEAL.
Miss Rossiter sat alone in the IL
brary, gazing rather pensively into
the fire. When the servant came
with the lights, she had sent him
away, saying that she preferred sit
ting by the freight, and now she
leaned back luxuriously in her great
easy chair, preparatory to the rath-
er unusual indulgence Of an intro
spective mood.
She could not be called introspec-
tive as general thing, for she was
far too busy with charities, flower
missions, Tolstoi clubs, church and
society in all their fullness, to allow
herself the popular fad of self anal
ysis, and then there was Tom Len
field. She had been engaged to Tom
for nearly year.
He was a dear good fellow and
was succeeding SO well in his busi-
ness, and yet-weM, she was vague
" 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 planned
She wondered if, after all, she did
love him as she should.
She sighed q little and determined
to allow herself the pleasure Of feel
ing rather miserable uson this sub
ject.
Tom was 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 con-
sidered her the very loveliest and
cleverest girl in the world; still
there was no denying that Tom was
rather slow sometimes, and so prac-
teal. She remembered how at the
art exhibition they had stopped be-
fore picture of the impressionist
school that it was the thing to ad-
mire. TO be quite honest, she was
not entirely sure whether she real
ly understood and admired it her.
self, but she had heard so much talk
about it from people whose judg-
ment she held to be entirely above
criticism that she had at last per-
suaded herself that to her, too, it
was replete with life and meaning.
At any rate it was annoying to
nave Tom look at her in undisguised
amazement as she praised it's vir-
tues and to hear him exclaim: "That
daubl You surely don't admire
that2'' But then he was so penitent
when she had explained it to him,
and even if he did not understand
it was pleasant to hear him say:
"You are the cleverest girl, Nan. I
often wonder how you can care for
a fellow whose only pretense to
good taste is his lovef for you" She
remembered how, a few weeks ago,
at 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.
Hewas fond of music, in his way,
but he was candid enough to confess
that bright, pleasing bit of light
opera brought far more pleasurable
emotions to him than the most soul
full 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 is it, darlinga Are
you sitting in draft9"
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
wavering between dreamy Burne-
Jones figure and hero of the Chew
alier Bayard type, SO dear to most
women. Somehow or other Toms
vigorous personality would persist
in mixing itself up with her brain
portraits until they were such sad
composite that in despair she gave
I'D the personal appearance of her