Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1909-05-19
The
|Prodi8al.
BY c. Mlra Steele.

BY c. Myra Steele. E
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1t was growing late, the room was
bitterly cold, and the fire on the
hearth had all died awag, leaving only
q few dull dead ashes. The wind
howled and shrieked around the cor.
ner OF the house, like old forgotten
ghosts calling, yet the woman sat
there motionless, staring into the
darkness.
And her thoughts went back to the
happy days when she had been young
and beautiful. and her eyes grew
bright, and shadow of smile hover
ed again around the thin lips as she
recalled the pleasant times they used
to have in that small town. :
Now scene after scene of her girl
hood days rose before her, the merry
huskings, the straw rides and dances,
one after another came before her
vision, always bringing the face OF the
one who was her constant attendant
at all these sports. Her country low
er, they called him, and In truth he
had been. caring for her so tenderly.
She could almost see him now as
he stood before her that last morning
before she went away, pleading that
she would become his wife and give
up her idea of famous career But
at that moment life seemed so bright,
and the prospect of fame so absolute.
that she had merely laughed as she
turned away from him.
She could now realize how true
were the words that he had spoken
that day. Fame cannot come in day,
and alas it could never come for her,
Tor broken in health, with no money
for even the necessities of life, she
was dragging out a useless and sui.
fering existence.
Oh, why could she not humble her
pride and go back to her father. He
would surely forgive her. she was yet
young and might even be joyous and
happy II freed from the terrible grind
which she was under to keep soul
and body together. Long she sat
there fighting with her pride. She had
never told of her desperate circunl.
stances at home. and managed to keep
her letters bright and cheerful, and
they had never dreamed of the ter
rible struggle which she was making.
At last the longing for home tri-
umphed, and rising, she put on her hat
and coat, hastily thrust a few ar
ticles into a bag and LETT the room.
She knew that she could catch the
express that left at o'clock, and
hurried down the street, careless OF
the fierce wind that buffeted. her
about and blew through and through
her thin garments.
"At last" she thought, "at last /
shall find home and rest"
She spent all but few cents of
her meagre store for her ticket, and
finally, seated in the train on the
way home. she was appalled, at the
thought of what she had done-spent
almost her last penny for the ticket,
when she had no surety of kind vel
come. and might even be turned out
again when they learned of her de.
ceit.
As for Paul Darcy, her former lover,
she dared not think Of him. She
knew now that she had always cared
for him, perhaps that was why she
failed In her career-'but did he still
care for her? Her heart beat so
loudly that 1t almost frightened her
as she commenced to recognize the
names of the stations called, and tc
realize that she was nearing home.
1t was nearly daylight when they
came to her station, and as she step
ped to the platform. an awful sense
OF depression came over her. The cold
gray morning, the deserted streets
everything seemed so dreary to her
The stattonmaster did not recognize
In this broken and worn woman tlrt
light hearted girl that had left there
few years ago. and looked curiously
ut her as she passed down the empty
street.
She paused in front Of her old
home, and looked longingly at it FOL
some signs OF life; and rs If in an
swer to her wish, the door slowl,
opened and her father came out. Shs
knew he was going to the barn to dt
the few chores, and she pictured he
mother inside, getting breakfast owe
the shining stove in the big kitchen
The sight of her father SO ben
and gray. sent swift pang to he
heart, and with cry she was by hi
side, her arms around his neck, an,
her lips pressed close to his, Will,
she cried:
Father. oh. my faSher, it is I, you
little girl. don't you know you
Eloise?"
"Elolse," he cried, and the SCUM,
was like music to her starved, sa,
heart, "you have come back to me.
and the poor old man sobbed wit
Joy.
The heavy load was lifted wit
Eloise's heart, and they went in {
see her mother. The welcome wa
90 genuine and their pleasure so sir
cere, that she cried and laughe
through sheer JOY.
The tired look left her face, an
the old vigor returned to- her ste
In the next few days, while the year
positively rolled from her father an