The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1908-10-16
THE EVENING STORY
An Indian summer Romance.
(By Margaret Foxo


for Marion Leigh. She knew 1t would
not be when she saw 1t looming up In
all its inevitability-an invalid aunt, an
isolated mountain retreat, and herself
in the dual role of nurse and compan-
ion.
But she was wise enough to recognize
the time-old truth that ''beggars can
not be choosers" and to accept 1t
graciously. As a dependent orphan,
she had little voice in the ordering OF
her own career.
But now. as she watched the leaves
falling silently. somberly, and thought
over the long tedious days she mad
lived through. and the longer and more
tedious ones to come, her bright cour-
age seemed all at once to leave ner.
There had been just one DIT OF
brightness that stood out as rene.
monotonous summer-and whether she
was glad or sorry for 1t, Marion nersen
hardly knew.
She had welcomed Bruce Wolcott's
coming with spontaneous dengnt, not
because 1t had any special signincance
for her but because he stood for all
that she had known of youth ana Iree-
dom and jollity, of which there was SO
little now in her surroundlnss-so
much still in her natural makeup
But wolcott had proved more Inan
merely young and care free and Joliy,
as she remembered him; he was aierty
sympathetic and unfailingly generous.
In recalling the many thougn!IuS
sweet things he had done Ior n s
Marion refused to blame hersen .or
misinterpreting them as acts sisni'i
cant of deeper purpose
day, it seemed to her now. 1t was noe
that his generosity ceased, Dut the pei
sonal note that had come so near
Transforming kindness into lo'e' hau
suddenly dropped out or IL. .t,.
The comparatively cold courtesy tnaI
was left chilled Marion's heart-ner
pride nevertheless forced her to accept
ii as If she noticed no difference.
Her lips trembled now, as sne ieie
again the bitterness Of the d1sapPolnt-
ment and the resignation, pue ,,te
knew that she must not give way Ut
terly. For that-for surrender TO un-
happiness and despair, there was no
time nor ploce allotted in her lie
schedule. She must be always ready
always cheerful, always sef-enaceo:
With characteristic determlnation'
she attempted to turn her thoughts into
other channels. But after reading
few pages in the book she had Drougnt
with her out under the trees, she closed
1t with emphatic disapprovaL
ct could write better story my,
self" was her mental comment. And
she was soon deeply engrossed In the
experiment.
Some three or four hours later in the
day, on his customary way to inquire
after Marion's invalid aunt, Wolcott
came upon the book and the loose sheets
of paper carelessly slipped into it-or
rather, slipping out of it, for the wind
was f1uttering the leaves energetically.
A chance phrase or two caught his
attention-he read on. without stopping
to think of the breach of etiquette that
he was committing, and then. having
read through to the last, he turned
back to the beginning.
1t was an idyllic little fancy.
I'm childhood he had been her play
mate" Wolcott read. Whenever she
was with her hand tight clasped in his.
If she slipped on the smooth cross
stones in the brook he pulled her up
with jerk and they both laughed at
her dripping little figure. The other
children didn't hear him laugh, to be
sure-in fact, they didn't know him,
because they never saw him. The lit
tie girl kept him all to herself, afraid
to let anyone else suspect his exist
ence.
They often wondered-the poor,
blind, unimaginative other children
why she liked to play so much by her
self. OF course. he always walked by
her side when they went to school; at
first adorably, shy, just tagging on
behind; later, growing holder and en-
SOdA d6OO ny Tie AIIle girl, ne carried
her books with staggering air of pos
session that delighted her heart.
But Tor some inexplicable reason, as
the boys shyness gradually evolved into
an attitude of debonair cocksureness,
the girl lost all her daring and asser-
tiveness. She no longer took the lead
in fact. in no time at all, she found
herself following his lead-sometimes
with a meekness of which she was
wholly unconscious. and again with a
strange mingling of fear and tumultu-
Gus happiness that proclaimed him mas
ter of he heart.
But the boy, because his power had
come to him so easily, was careless of
It. Besides, there were so many other
things that were more worth while. He
told the girl about some of them,
boastingly, expecting her to share his
And because she seemed
to him Indifferent and no longer a
comrade interested in the same things
and at length they drifted
quite apart.
But the girl never forgot She fol-
lowed his career from afar, and was
proud of all his successes. Yet, much
as she admired and reverenced the
man, in her heart it was the boy whose |
image she treasured. She still i'm
agined him with her, sharing her keen
delight in every bit of beauty that she
CHANGED upon-holding her hand
came near sweeping her on with them.
''If the man ever remembered"
And here the fine spun fancy came
to full stop, owing probably, to some
sudden interruption.
For few minutes Wolcott sat alb
sorbed in deep thought. So she did
love him after ALL And what he had
overheard her tell her aunt, coming
along by her open window
one day, had been all part of her
daily heroism. Her lips had said, mo, |
auntie, I do not love him-he is only
Just a friend. He can never mean |
anything more to me'-but her heart |
had said
He reread the last part of the con- |
fession, and then taking out his pencil, |
wrote hurriedly.
eff the man ever remembered" he |
began, continuing the thread of the |
story. sit was to wonder what had he |