Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1900-11-22


After a restless two hours, the audi
ence departed, leaving Mary to count
the receipts of the evening-les than
81.
Far away now seemed the career. >
Mary Leonard took the morning train
for home and the farm with it's rest
and quiet.
There the hearth fires seemed to
burn brighter, the old days seemed
I dearer. How disappointing the world
was, and how she missed faithful,
patient, homely John. Often and often
! she would have written if she had
dared. She had other offers Of mar
rage and refused them. From IN
! difference to home she had awakened,
! and now she began to dabble in fancy
work, to paint PLAQUES and make
| tides, to play at cooking with chat
| ing dish, to visit the sick, and SO time
! rolled On till Mary had completed her
| tWenty-ffth year-a new woman who
| loved home and wanted one of her
own
One day a rumor came to Mary's
ears that John had enlisted and gone
to fight in the Philippines; her soul
cried out against wOman's limita-
lions. What had she done but drive
him to death in a strange country?
Why might she not call him, now that
she knew her own heart? But no, it
is not the way of the world, nor the
course for proud woman. She took
to reading news from Manila, with
feverish interest-every scrap of war
news, every line from a soldier out
therefor so she might hear from
John. OF course, he would die, she
thought.
"He had gone to fling his life away,
to forget"
From the wild desire for news from
the soldiers, Mary passed into a state
Of frenzy. She subscribed to some of
the great city dalies, and every even
ing her handsome carriage could be
seen on the way to the village news
stand. And every day she scanned
"Otis' list of casualties" with a kind of
terror lest she find there what she
sought.
1t came at last. Riding slowly home
in the dusk she read: KILLED, John
Stewart, Fourth cavalry, from Tacoma,
Wash" The paper fell from nerve
less, icy fingers. Her grief was ter
rible; yet not even to her mother
would she go III her despair For
have killed him." was her constant
moan.
She went no more for the mail, took
no further interest in news from the
Philippines. But when few days,
had passed, she rallied from the shock
to think Of his father and mother.
One evening sorrowful letter float
ed into Johns western home. Johns
mother read it at the tea table. 1t
read:
Dear Father and Mother-For Il
shall always thing of you now as my
own father and mother. l have just
read the terrible news of Johns death
away in the Philippines. And though
[ know you can never forgive me and
love me as you once did, want you to
Johns mother looked at him over
her spectacles when she had finished
reading it. His face was scarlet; but
neither of them spoke. His mother
understood it, though, when John took
his first vacation in five years. He
said he was going back to his old
home. He wanted to see the old place
and Mt Shawangum. and be boy
again among the Eastern SHOWS.
let me be something to you now,
though | am so unworthy. And oh.
want you to know how much | really
loved John, and that l never realized it
till now, when | have lost him; and
how lonely and unhappy | shall always
be; and how sincere my desire is to
undo the past and come to you and
share your lifelong sorrow Your own,
Mary Leonard.
The late train brought a traveller to
Ulsterville one evening few days
later. He was tall and handsome and
prosperous looking. He seemed not
to care for old Shawangum now nor
the old home place. He waited for no
friend or conveyance, but took his
way to the Leonard home with long,
swinging steps, thinking of the old
days and others yet to come. He
asked for Mrs. Leonard first, lest be
thrust his living presence too abruptly
into this comfortable home He was
supposed to be lying dead in the rice
fields of Panay.
1t was we'll enough that Mary's
mother warned her. The thought of
the letter, with its confession, reused
her pride. She came sweeping down,
more stately and beautiful than of old.
John stood by the mantel, the freight
playing upon his fine face. The years
separation rose to their minds when
their hands met. They were no longer
dreaming girl and bashful boy, but
| well-bred woman and polished man.
| Il am glad to know" Mary said,
that it was a mistake, that you are
living still, and that you have come to
| see us again. | wrote your-mother
"a letter-I-I-it must have been
some other John Stewart"
ct was the letter that brought me
back, Mary. l thought perhaps there
had been other mistakes. l was
wrong to come-for l see now-you
only wrote to comfort them; and
have come to thank you and say good
| by" he said, slowly and gravely; "and
I know, Mary, it is best to go; that
you belong to the professional world,
in which you must have succeeded by