Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1915-12-17
Women and
Their Interest
What Happened
to Jane
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE
WATER
Copyright, 1915, Star Co.

1t was characteristic of Jane Hardy
not to look back when she had put her
hand to the plough.
After the revelation made to her by
her mother she felt that there was but
one course possible to her. Only once
did she waver from her unexpressed
determination to do what was best for
her parents. This was when she was
alone at night.
She had asked to be allowed to go
to bed as soon as the silent supper was
over. Her father had eaten little, her
mother less. AS for herself. she could
not swallow. She knew that Ezra ex-
pected her to say something definite as
to her plans, but she could not do this
yet. So, uttering low Goodnight, "
she went up to her quiet room.
Here she lay in the dark and
thought out her problem. Was her
life not hers to live as she chose? But
swiftly upon this definite question
came the remembrance that her father
and mother. too, must live, They had
cared for her through all the twenty
one years since her birth. Now she
must care for them. We're she to
marry a poor man she could not do
this.
If she married Edward Sanderson.
he would insist on taking the respon-
sibility of the support of her parents
on his young shoulders. This he must
never do. She would not hamper and
bind him thus-no, not if she had to
beg her bread first. The one thing
she could not endure would be to see
the man she loved harassed and care
worn by bearing her burdens.
Were she to marry Augustus Reeves,
the debts that were crushing her par
ents would be paid. Reeves was a
be sacrificed. Let it be herself.
She fell 1Slenn at last II WAS ma St
midnight when she was awakened by
clear ray of moonlight that had
crept in through the unshuttered win
dow and across her pillow to her eye
lids. She sat up. startled.
oh. the moon-our moon!" she
whispered. Was 1t only last night
that we saw it-he and 1? oh, Ned,
Ned!"
Jane Has a Bitter Fight With Herself
Throwing herself back on her pill
low, she cried softly, but with an aban-
donment that left her exhausted.
Finally. when the storm of sobs had
spent itself, she crept to the window
and looked out. The moon was far
above the horizon. The trees were
tipped with silver. The fir trees on
the crest of Collin Mountain stood out
black against the pale sky.
Il can't give him up!" the girl
moaned. mo matter what happens
llt uOOT Ol neT gave u warm
ing creek and her mother crept in.
"Oh. Jane!" she murmured, stop
ping with start at sight of the white
figure by the window. Are YOU sick,
dearie? L thought a while ago I
heard you moving about"
No, I'm not SICK" the girl replied.
But, mother-why are you up at this
hour? Haven't you been asleep?"
The matron shook her head. In the
pale radiance flooding the room Jane
could see that the round face was
blotched by weeping and that the lips
and eyelids were swollen.
What's the matter. mother?" she
asked tenderly, wave of compassion
sweeping away her own self-pity. She
put her arm about the elderly woman
and drew her to the bed. sit down
here, by me, dear" she urged. you
are tired out"
She felt strangely old, she told her
self-older and more world-wise than
this unhappy mother of hers. Life
had been hard for Ezra Hardys wife,
as well as for Ezra himself. The
daughter appreciated this now. She
knew that her mother had suffered
much. and that for years she had kept
this from the child for whom she had
worked and made sacrifices.
At the affectionate tone Mrs.
Hardy's tears burst forth afresh.
oh. janet she sobbed. I'm so
wretched! You and pa are all 1 have
and you're both so miserable. He
hasn't closed an eye tonight. He says
were ruined. And here you are griev-
ing yourself sick. and-oh, l can't see
what's going to become of us all. 1t
means disgrace for us, or"---haltingly
unhappiness for you"
In the period of silence that fol-
lowed the younger woman renounced
all that made life most sweet to her.
1t took only = few moments, but the
decision w1s final. When she spoke
her voice was firm.
She Makes Her Great and Final De-
cision
Mother" she said, you and father
nave done everything for me. 1 will
not do anything that will bring unhap-
piness upon you. Twill try to do
as you and he wish"
But, Janie"-the fioodgates of tears
were once more open-"I want you to
be happy--and if you can't be-
Please. mother" Jane Hardy inter-
rupted. don't use that word any more
Let us talk of duty instead. You may
tell father that l have made UP my
mind not to-not to-marry Edward
Sanderson.'
She said no more-not even when
Mrs. Hardy threw her arms about her
ana Kissed her paSSionately, calling
her her poor little girl" Instead she
sat as if turned to stone. And when
her mother left her she crossed the
room swiftly and drew the dark shade
at her window so that not q ray of the
outer brilliance could penetrate to her
room.
She had made her decision. Hence
forward she would look no more at
the shimmering moonlight.
The pale and practical dawn was
lighting the world when she arose and
dressed, and, sitting at her little desk,
wrote a letter to Edward Sanderson
All her plans were changed, she told
him. He must forget her. She was
not the girl he had believed her to be.
She had decided that 1t would be best
for her to marry another man. Their
pictures of their future together had
been but fancies. All she would ask
of him now was that he would try TO
forgive her and would not communf-
cate with her again. He would please
regard this letter as an answer to his
note to her father. as we'll as her un-
1lterable decision.
Then, while her mother was build
ing the kitchen fire. Jane slipped out
through the front door and hurried
DOWN the road to the post office. where
she dropped her letter in the slit at tho
side Of the closed entrance. IT was not
o'clock. and the postmaster was not
vet astir.
She returned to the house as noise
lessly as she had left it. and. going up
TO her room. removed her hat
Cd l., L,