Connecticut western news., 1911-09-14
Her Beauty By LUCY K. WYNKOOP Copyright by American Press Asso-
 ciation, 1911.

Leonore was marvelously beautiful. When she passed along the street per sons would turn to look after her. At social gatherings the hum of chat among those about her would cease, all being intent in admiring the curves of her figure and the exquisite cast of her face. From childhood, though her parents endeavored to keep a knowl- edge Of her gift from her, she could not but know it Persons are less careful of making a child vain than a woman.
 Leonore did not grow to be a vain woman. But since the only gift of which she was made aware, was her beauty, she came to prize it. Seeing others about her courted for this or that possession, she came to regard her own blessing as the only means of keeping her in her eminent position. So long as her beauty lasted so long would she be admired. When her beauty was gone she must sink to the level of ordinary persons.
 But one real lover worshiped> Leo nore, and unfortunately for him he could find no corresponding gift to hers in himself to warrant his aspi- tations with regard to her. He con sidered himself as set aside by fate from, possessing her; not an adverse fate, simply fate. At an early age he found himself at the head of a fami- ly-his fathers family. His father had died, and the boy took up the mans work. He did not regret doing so, nor was he proud to do so. He considered that he was doing what it was natural for him to do. Had he been granted time enough before as- suming these responsibilities perhaps he might have placed himself in a po- sition from which he could advance. AS 1t was, he was but bookkeeper.
 When Leonore was thirty she fell i'll. During her illness 1t became necessary that she should submit to d serious operation. \For weeks after 1t had been performed she lowered between life and death For months after she passed out of danger she was obliged to be wheeled about in her chair.
 During her convalescence she would not look into a mirror. Her nurse dressed her hair long after she was able to do so herself, because Leonore could not bear to see her altered ap- pearance. But one day she made up her mind that if her beauty had de- parted she must submit to the loss. Ignoring it would not restore it. She called for a mirror. ....
 Great heavens! Were those pale features hers? Was she looking out of those dun eyes? Did that mixture of gray and black hair grow on her head? She dropped the mirror on her lap and covered her face with her hands. H#.
 One day when she had so far i'm proved in health as to walk out she met the bookkeeper. So many persons had passed her without recognizing her that she wondered if he, too, would do SO. She had known him since child hood. She knew his situation, but his views concerning it were not hers. She felt that he was making a sacrificed sacrifice that she could not make. In- deed, during the time her beauty had remained to her she had considered 1t a very poor equivalent for his uncom- plaining acceptance of a duty. And now that she was below the average in personal appearance his advantage over her seemed to have become a mountain between them. AS he ap- preached her heart almost stopped beating.
 He not only recognized her, but if he experienced any shock at her changed appearance he did not show 1t. He had not loved her for her beauty, and it's loss did not therefore affect him as much as was to have been expected. Indeed, his mind was moving in an- other channel. He had always felt that Leonore's beauty was a barrier between them. While she had been III his mother had died, and the older children had become independent. While he sympathized with Leonore at the loss of her beauty, the fact rushed upon him that the only inequality be- tween them had vanished. And yet that loss she prized so dearly endeared her the more to him.
 Leonore was right in supposing that the especial prominence she enjoyed would die with her beauty. One does not give up such prominence without a pang! But Leonore was pleased to notice that a few who had been near est and dearest to her were in no wise changed with regard to her. People passed her on the street without look ing at her. At social functions the young men were no longer brought up in throngs to be presented to her. She did not go to balls, for she knew that her card instead of being full to over flowing would be blank.
 But one thing she had gained. The bookkeeper-he was not now an ac- countant, but the manager of the busi- ness where he had been an underling- was devoted to her. The feeling that he lived for her went far beyond com pensation for the loss of that admira- tion she had received from strangers. A happiness stole into her heart more precious than the admiration of the