Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1913-09-09

through the weeks, rising with his nev
fighting life, he had flercely told him
self that he would yield nothing; h
was crying out to life with a Dionysi
an gladness-he would seize growtl
and power and recreate himself So
when he found letter from Aurelie ol
his desk, he cried out as II meteo
had lighted his dingy shop. Aurelie
the village baggage. Old Michigan'i
girl; the one time rabbit hunter Of tn,
hills, the ridiculous beauty-prize win.
ner; an actress trapesing over the lant
with an ambition to come back will
a bull-pup and a press-agent to startl,
the old town! Janet was right; 4
there was anything needed to finish
Wiley Curran It was Aurelie Lind.
strom. But he would not admit this
His Celtic sense Of romance begilded
his world still; bit Of tinsel would
hold his eye and always would. Yet ht
knew better than any one how desper-
ately he needed the cool and sober
judgment Of men and women-thai
was what could make him; that was
what was making him now in his new
life, the faith, the love Of those prosy
farm folk Of the Midlands. '7f
But Aurelie had written! And al
once the walls of his shop fell away
to vistas Of enchantment.
I'm engaged" said Aurelie, in her
firm, upright, high-school hand. Mr.
Curran started feverishly. I'm a mu-
sicai comedy and the manager says
can sing! Oh, what do you think OF
that? Not much, but enough! But Ada
Norman says my face did 1t, and I'd
never got a show IL hadn't made Co.
hans office boy laugh. But tell you
Mr.. Curran, we were right up against
1t! Ada and pawned our trunks, and
when she stacked me out in the best
clothes we could get sailed into some
Of these people. And tell you, Mr..
Curran, the day I got my job we were
down to oatmeal cooked over the gas
jet In our room. But there's nothing
to race but the finish Oatmeal isn't
80 bad"
"Oh, Aurelie!" groaned Mr.. Curran,
"and that taxi, and the dollar you gave
bell-boy at the Metropole!"
The letter went on: "And what do
you think, Mr.. Curran, was only in
that chorus six weeks when Cohan &
Snitz decided to put road show out,
and they picked me out Of the New
York production to understudy the
coincidence. They said was funny!
suppose 1 made faces and kicked up
my heels" "Oh, Rome! Oh, the
Shakespeare Club" murmured Mr..
Curran.-"so I'm going out on the road
with the second Girl and the Burglar
company. We aren't so classy as the
New York bunch but 1t gives me a
chance. like New York. You ought
to see the clothes I've got. When we
open in Chicago on the tenth you just
got to come and see me act
"P. S.-Tell all the grannies who
don't like me, about The Girl and The
Burglar. non't say anything about the
oatmeal! -"
"P. S.-Pretty soon I'll send you
some stuff to put in the paper.
"P. 81 saw three little rabbits un-
der bridge yesterday when the train
went by. With love,
"Aurelie"
The congressional candidate folded
the letter over 80 that with love, Au-
relie," showed. He gazed at 1t. Then
he sat down and tried to recall Au-
relic. What she liked, and how she
laughed or rebelled-what inevitability
Of life had made her as it made all the
rest Of us. go.
He went about the next month, in
and out Of the county, speaking wher-'
ever the need took him. It was not
until his next breathing space that,
back in his Office to pick up the odds
and ends of work-for the task Of get
ting out the News had fallen to Aunt
Abby and his mongrel printers-he met
Harlan. While Wiley had been on his
whirlwind campaign, Harlan had kept
to his petty lawyering with Donley.
He had no fight to make. The coun-
ty committee took care of that. His
sort Of politics needed no noise nor ap-
peal-it was not part Of the Cam
bridge Virginia traditions Of his fam
lily.
Harlan came in on him one chill
night in October. Wiley had been hurt,
for 1t seemed, since his return, that
Harlan had evaded him. Others had
noticed 1t. Arne Vance had truculent-
ly attributed it to politics-Harlan was
going the way Of the old gang, was
he? Well, Arne had grimely forecasted
It, Associations and traditions were
too strong for Harlan.
Curran and Harlan faced each other
now with a dumb recognition Of the
hurt in each others eyes. The old
glad faith-where had 1t gone?
Curran had been at brief analysis Of
1t all, even with the turmoil Of his bat
tie. And Janet's serene aloofness, yet
steadfast ardor for his success "They
think I love her." he had muttered
restlessly, time and again. "I-why,
it's ridiculous! Twice her age, and
lordy! getting bald as am-and every
thing about me-a trifer with women"
And then he studied. "Well, that kid
God bless her! Nothing never hit me
so hard. wish they'd understand"
But to save Mr.. Curran he couldn't
make out what he wanted any one to
understand. He was in some bewilder-
ing struggle, he told himself and
could not understand himself!
He stood across his desk from the
young man. How Har-
Ian had grown these years! His mans
bulk and dignity, his outgiving of pow
er and personality. Wiley had envied
1t. even with his great hurt love for
the boy. 1t was curious how things
come to one man without price for
which another struggles lifelong in
vain. He tried now to come back to
the dear familiar ground with Harlan,
and Harlan would not have it.
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