The Marshall republican., 1910-01-28

ly back, was streaked with gray. The
~exuberant vitality of the face and
frame had given place to a worn look
Of passive strength. Ten years should
not SO change a face were 1t not that
ten years, as men count time, are
sometimes a cycle.
Derriug was not thinking Of the
past, however, nor of himself. He
wal resting, gaining strength for the
next work that lay before him.
At last he rose and began to move
about the room, making ready for din
ner. Suddenly he stopped, b~ewildered,
putting his hand to his head. What
had happened? A change too subtle
to be put in words had come owe him
while he rested. He looked at his
ACE in the mirror, half expecting to
see some sign. 1t was not there. But
deep II his heart he felt It %throbbing
thrilling. Life was, after all, worth
living! Nay, more, 1t was a wonder
jul, beautiful thing. The feeling did
not take words. IL was too ~pervasive,
LOO complete, for that. No mere
thought could have carried such
weight of conviction. II was too sim
pie for a chain OF reasoning. Yet it
carried belief. He had reasoned care.
iully and logically to the opposite
conclusion. How was it?-Life could
not be worth living. Since there is
no permanent happiness, existence
has no reason for being rather than
Tor not being, and no certainty of an
outcome that shall justify suffering.
lie smiled at his careful logic, swept
away by the force Of pure conviction
Life was worth living!
1t lay before him simple as day
light, and as clear. His mind ran
ahead. He must find the work he
could do well, and do II. Herein lay
happiness. Then let him help others
to find their place. He would have
soy of heart and the purpose that
makes life reasonable. II mattered
little about the immortality of the
soul. Three-score years and ten was
Immortality. The structure of the
universe betrayed a master plan. To
live in unison with this plan. to aid
In its execution-if only for a few
years-was enough.
He turned to the window and, draw.
ing up the shade, looked across the
broken lines of chimney-pots and roofs
to the western sky. His heart leaped
to meet 1t. Beauty had come back to
the earth. He stood drinking 1t in
with the eagerness of a traveller who
sees home at last. He had not known
how his artist nature had hungered
for 1t through the years. The tears
came into his eyes as he looked. A
tangle of chimneys and gables against
a twilight sky. but full Of subtle beau.
ty. Would II stay with him =
had It been? There in the outer
~world-but hidden from him because
he was unworthy? Or in his own soul
languishing with its sickness? Then
in q moment II came to hint was
not In the world, nor in his soul. II
was the soul itself coming to con
s~ciousness. recognising itself. behNid'
Ing LIS W features, az In q glass
existence reaching its highest form In
the consciousness Of the soul. He
stood awed before II. 1t seemed To
stretch away into space. wonderful,
lofty. but close about him.
He vent down to dinner with an
eager interest. Everything had be
come transformed. Men and women
were no longer machines wound up to
run through q definite term Of pain,
and calling on his sympathy aud help
They weye divine-capable Of the
highest happiness, He felt like leap
Ing. exulting, crying aloud in fuiness
Of Joy at the beauty Of lifs and human
kinship.
"Derring was more like himself to
night than he has been for years.
remarked an elderly IA to his com
panion as Derring passed from ths
room where they sat smoking aftel