The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1921-03-24
Eoening Story
Beneath His Station.

BY r. r. 7 BAKER.
The old man leaned forward and
rested hand on a se of his son.
They sat before a fireplace in which a
swapping blaze was struggling against
fall chill. They were smoking pipes
and apparently enjoying each others
company. as cronies do; and they were
cronies.
The old man? He was not that
when you came to a closer inspection.
He looked old, seated as he had been
in the shadows, for his silver hair was
all that was really distinct in the dusk.
But now, when he leaned toward his
son. the Pickering flame illuminated
his countenance, and it's dull red glow
gave his cheeks a youthful tinge
There were wrinkles. but not deep.
One would take it he had led a free
and easy life, until gradually the inn
preston formed that there was some
thing about him denoting a sorrow.
Possibly it was his eyes.
Its up to you. Paul." he said in
a voice that was singularly soft and
pleasing. IT would not try to argue
you out of this marriage, but I want
to warn you and be sure you are not
making mistake-as I did once"
The last four words preceded a deep
sigh. and the father leaned back again
in the shadow, to watch the glow from
the fireplace play about the handsome
clean-cut face of his son.
Il am sure, father" the son said
with a note of finality. IT love this
girl of the wilderness. You should see
her"romp thru the woods. her cheeks
aglow with health. You should see
her paddle a canoe, and dive and swim
And yet she is as retiring and reserved
q . IA go. Ali
the occasion requires it."
But your station in life," his father
insisted. This girl cannot be your So
cial equal. You say she and her
mother live in shapty in the woods
near Cedar Creek, where you spent
your, vacation. They must be crude
people, 1t seems to me-"
The son was on the point of making
an angry retort, but he checked it.
She's as good and a lot better
than most of the girls in my station
OF life," he said. Her English is per-
feet, and she has a conversing knowl-
edge on a wide range of topics 1 did
not see her mother. for never could
get Anne to invite me to their home
In fact, it is not her mother, Anne
told me. Rather it is her adopted
aunt. Anne is really the daughter of
the sister of the husband of the wo-
man she calls mother-if you can
grasp that. Anyhow she's no blood
relation, but they love each other like
mother and daughter. 1t seems that
each is all the other has.
They live in the woods from choice.
Anne,s father was wealthy and left a
large amount of money to his daugh-
ter; and Anne insisted on sharing it
with the woman she now calls mother,
Because they love the woods and
choose to live in them-that does not
a low station, does it? And
what if it does? VI love Anne"
1T all sounds very rosy, this love
talk, observed his father, and there
was a touch of bitterness in his voice,
put 1t doesn't always work out that
way. Look at my own case I don't
care to talk of it as rule, but it's a
sample of what one gets for marrying
beneath his level. Your mother was
iovaple, good girl, but she had not been
educated TO my ways of thinking In
many ways the case parallels yours. !
Your mother could not get along in
the society to which / was accustomed.
Like this girl you think you love, she
was fond ofNthe woods and she wanted
me to spend my life in them. 1 could
not reconcile myself to it, because 1
love the noise and hustle of the city.
me silence of the wilds drives me
frantic. But consented to try it and
built a habitation in the wods; not a
mooern structure, as / desired. but a
rustic log house to suit yous mothers
lancy. L could not endure the solitude
ana finally one night we qaarreled;
and terrible quarrel it wasf@It was
raining, and thunder and lightning
punctuated every sentence that was
uttered. In fairness to your mother.
whom loved in spite of our incom-
patibility, must say that did most
OF the quarreling. She simply sat and
looked into my face with those gentle
blue eyes and let me rave. I never
told you this before, because-because
It was pretty hard for me; but now,
when you are considering a step that
$ almost identical, cannot refrain
But it is hard"
The silver hair was buried in the
mans arms
The next moring I left the house
With you" he went on, more composed |
You cannot remember it, for you were
oniy year and a half old and had
to carry you in my arms. I sneaked
but of the cabin with you bundled in
= blanket before Ethel. your mother, |
was awake. did not return for three |
months, and when did, repentant, I
found nothing but ashes to mark the |
spot where we had tried to live. And
never was able to ge. trace of your |
altf1o believe she persisted in |
the Frisco earthquake.
SO you see. my son, what marrying |
beneath my station did to me. You see
what may be the consequences for YOU |
of marrying one of those nature-iov- |
ing spirits. 1t sounds well. but it works |
but differently"
The son was silent several minutes |
know you mean well, father" he |
finally said, and this time it was his |
hand that was stretched forth and it
touched the others shoulder. but I (
love this girl. am sure of it; and, be- |
sides, I love nature, too, so we ought |
20 get along. Now 1 must be going, |
Tor l have an engagement with Carl |
We want to discuss old college davis" |
He left. and for long time the man |
with silver hair smoked and silently |