The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1900-10-09

E HE RECOVERED \
I. HIS HEALTH. !
%


country for two weeks summer vacation
his numerous friends nodded to each 9TH
err and remarked that it was about time
that popular young man got away from
work and worry, for of late he had grown
thin and white and was looking fairly
wretched.
1t was a quiet, old fashioned little
farmhouse where the health seeking
young man finally decided to stop, with a
motherly little woman who had '.seen bet
ter days in charge and with acres of |
sloping lands and rich fields rolling away
from it in every direction, while mead
ows of waving grass wound through by
gurgling brooks and inhabited only by
birds and little animals of every descrip-
ton stretched far away back of the low
! never painted little home. An ideal spot
the young man thought it the day he
drove up to the gate to ask for drink of
! buttermiih, and an ideal spot he found it
when, few hours later, his telescope
trunk and valises We're put down in the
clean, best room and he himself en-
sconced there for the holiday. Before
Harold Barnes had become mere slave
in the mercantile world he had achieved
knew him as an III lifferent poet, and
/ though the last few years of his life had
been such as to drive all that sort of thing
out of him, when he found himself settled
in this picturesque old spot there came a
| sort of aftermath of his former haryests
in the fields of rhyme and he went to
! work again lazily scrawling verses when
ever the fancy struck him. And scrawl-
! ing verses being conducive to RETROSPECT
| ton, the past began to parade itself be-
| fore his mind one day and bring back
great many things he might wish to for
get.
There are very few men of Harold's
age who have not either had or are at
present going through with love affair
! Of some sort or other, and he, being a
rather up to date young man, had left
his far behind him. A long train of diff
ferences, misunderstanding and hot
words caused by too little thought on
her part and too much on his had caused
the breach between him and Beatrice
Harland. He had gone his way in a
sort of dazed but determined belief that
she was wrong and he right, and she
had done likewise. When he found that
she did not ask him to come back, he
only plunged deeper into WORK and tried
to forget, and she plunged deeper into So
ciety and did forgotten the time being.
A few months later her father went west
and soon after sent for his family, and
thus the two who might have been happy
!; lost sight of each other.
Young Barnes had dreamed of what
might have been for awhile after the es-
arrangement, but only for a little while,
and today as he wandered slowly down
the little crooked path leading out into
, the cool meadow, with here and there d
sunny spot lighting up the long grass in
to more vivid hues, there was little
: thought of regret for the past in his con-
tented mind. If he had not forgotten en-
, tirely, as men are so often accused of do
ing, he had put away that portion of his
:. life so far it did not recur to him unit
he reached the gnarled apple tree dow1
; by the brook, quarter of mile from
e the house. Then a sudden flood of mem
4 cries came over him, and he stopped
e still and gazed before him at the objec
. that had brought them back.
1t was little white parasol, so like TIL
= one she had once carried, and unde
= which she had sat when the last quarre
= reached its height, that his heart bea
y fast and his self possession fled like
q cloud before the sun. The fluffy thing o
e lace and silk, stuck so jauntily in tn
|. ground near the old tree, drew him on a
+ magnet tile steel, and before he kney
l. it he was sitting with his back to tn
/. tree, looking longingly and with nike
emotions at that emblem of the long age
For half an hour he moved not, Will
picture after picture of that past cam
before his mind. Then the handsom
s eyes closed, the pencil and pad of paper
II with half finished poem on it, droppe
n from his hand, and this romantic youn
man, who would have scorned to do sue
an unromantic thing had he known i
| fell quietly asleep as if his heart ha
| never been broken by any one.
| Ten minutes later he woke to find tn
l sun beating down on him-but throug
I the white parasol, which had been care
\ fully raised and placed where it would il
A tercept the hot rays. Red with anger 6
! himself, he started to his feet when al
l other bit of white silk caught his eye, tn
time just on the other side of the tire
4 where he sat. For a moment he debate
I what to do, and then there stole out frol
under that white bit of fnery still viii
Ii er hand-a hand which he could neyt
HI forget, asleep or awake. 1t was the SAN
L little fingers, the same little wrist and I'll
same little pink palm.
q Harold's heart was in his throat, ar
the love that had so long lain dormal
a sprang to life again in the moment tn;
followed. Slowly the hand crept towai
a the white parasol, and slowly his cree
toward the little one. A moment it hes
a tated there, and the next his stron
q brown fingers had closed about hers, al
"A muff1ed little scream came to his Gag
I'll ears.
III "Beatricen' he cried, springing to h
feet and striding around the tree, sis
III you indeedY'
Il To which very foolish remark she ma
no reply at all, though her eyes spoke VI
umes. The next moment the little viii
. parasol had turned over and was sailil
cheerily down the meadow before a me
10 ry breeze, while its owner was bell
ne crushed to certain young mans brea
nc and hearing all sorts of wild, sweet stat
10 ments poured into her pretty ears.
re- And when Harold Barnes returned
* work again few weeks later his frien
to one and all assured him he looked so p
sin cent better than he had for the last thr
no years, to which he replied that he felt