The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1918-11-04
EVENING STORY
The Dream Denied.
BY A. w. PEACH.

u a. W. = kSASAA-
In the auiet of his college, room
Richard Martin fought out the old
battle between ambition, dreams and
duty. On the desk before him lay the
fateful note. written in the wayering
hand of old age.
1t was his last day and last evening.
| That afternoon the final exercises had
been held that ushered him out into
the busy, workaday world of men. His
lips frightened as he thought of his
dreams and plane--that he must put
by. His lips dropped in repose that is
born of tenderness az he thought of
Ruth Leighton.
He had not really known her until
the senior year when the senior girls
and men were thrown together In the
upper classes. she had appealed to
him in a thousand ways--the music
/ Of her voice, the dark, tantalizing
depths of her eyes. the soft dark hair
that made such a fine setting for the
sensitive face. Then had come the
glorious evening-it seemed ages. yet
verge of parting, he had told her
/ breath ssiy that he loved her: her ST.
,.ence that chilled kim-then the whis-
rered word that turned his humble
/; world into heaven.
Then he had met his father and
that he had perhaps aspired beyond
where his aspirations should go. He
discovered that Mr.. Leighton was FAR
more wealthy than he had surmised--
in fact. as Richard told himself a bit
jhopelessly, Leighton was an aristocrat
lin the fine meaning of the term. while
he himself was one of the toilers, the
son Of farmer Of poor circumstances.
Then had come his brief visit to Ruth's
great house in the beautiful Massa-
chusetts city.
He picked up the brief note from his
mother, WHICH told him that his father
had suffered a shock and would be
helpless the rest of his life. Why had
he not realized, Dick asked himself.
that something might happen? All
opening in the city that had been
promised him. with its splendid
chances, II small wages. Now. beyond
any question, his duty was to return
to the farm. from which he knew his
father and mother could not bear to
be separated. and there take up the
round of farm duties.
But Ruth--there his cup filled with
bitterness His dream had been of
her. in his home. her dark eyes look
ing into his. her gay and pleasant
tvoice within his hearing; that dream
must be put aside.
First he wrote a note to his mother.
then ne picked up his cap, set his
shoulders squarely and started down
from the college hill to the cottage
where Ruth roomed. On the way he
passed old friends who babe him fare
well. telling him at the same time OF
their own happy plans.
) BY the time he reached the cottage
his heart was bitter within him, tho
there was no waveringAin his mind. He
rang and was ushered Into the recep-
ton room.
: Ruth, I am really here to say good
BY" he began quietly, when Ruth
came in. II have received word that
means my return to the old place for
WE'LL for the best years of my life. !
want"
Suppose we sit down, Dick" she
broke in.
, In the dusk Of the room he faced
her and went on. wrapped in the re-
nunciation he was voicing. Il want to
tell you how much-much I love you,
Ruth, I'm going back to the old place.
: Father has had a auckland some
} body must help them. II he had kept
wefi-Ro. owe them everything.
am going there.
: 81 See she said as quietly as he.
She had never seemed quite SO beau
, tiful to him as then, with the dusk in
her eyes. her voice and her hair. He
held himself with firm grip upon his
will. He rose.
IT wish things could be different.
) from the very bottom of my heart.
!. get my joy out Of others happiness,
hope" he said tehsely. He held out
5 his hard. "Good-by, little chum..'
Quiet. passive, her own hand lay in
his for a brief moment.
"Good-by, Dick hope everything
) will be we'll" she answered briefly. .
Outside in the evening dusk he
Hooked up at the stars as men have
looked for comfort thru the ages
) she understOod-to go to an old
country farm with me; even love can
: not make the sacrifice. Well. perhaps
there Is a destiny that shapes things
for the best after ALL" he thought to
himself
, The next day he took the early train
for the city, purchased some gifts for
his father and mother. and started
! homeward. 1t was evening when the
train dropped him at the quaint little
station of the village beyond which his
: fathers farm lay. T.
) He found one of his fathers men
waiting for him with the span OF
horses that was his fathers delight,
They drove home in silence. AS the
r great farmhouse doomed thru the
friendly dusk, Dicks heart thrilled a
; bit with pride. 1t was splendid home
5 OF its type. keeping the stern but
beautiful lines OF the cid architecture.
into IL must u AiS t@eAiei
5 gone thru the hard years. The lights
: cleaned out-the homelights that al
ways seemed so cheerful-and soon
' the span. drew up before the door.
4 He jumped out. rushed in and
+ caught his mother In his arms; then
he went to his father. and the trem-
: bling pressure OF the sick mans hand
was a blessing and a benediction. He
= turned from the invalid's chair to &c
: to the hall and stopped, staring.
In the door stood girls figure: her
s smooth. oval face. rosy under the
$ light; dark-eyed and dark -haired. she
! sood there Ruth in spirit and form
Y He rubbed his eyes as he staggered
: and gaspeu I.9. name,
VI with q laugh half teary, half merry
q she me to him and put her arms or
Z his shoulders, looking up into his eyes
dick" her voice said, aren't YOU
: glad to see me T.
He canrhts her tishtby to him