The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1922-03-04
EUcning Story,
A Debt of Equity.
BY MARTHA Nee. WILLIAMS.
Miss Trlinor Garland took her letter

4; BY MARTHA Nee. WILLIAMS.
Miss Elinor Garland took her letters
from the mailbox, signing deeply as
she scanned them. Plenty of them
five in a row; yet not the letter thar
was the hinge to her hopes She mad
been looking for it two previous
mornings. 1t seemed impossible that
she could bear the strain of waiting
longer.
1t was not love letter-rather cold
business. Business vital to her pres
ent and future. (which meant, or
1 course, it had to do with money Mon
i ey to save the home so she might
leave it with a good conscience to
| carve out career. But not peg
| ging letter. Death would have been
/ easier than anything of that sort. 1t
/ had been hard enough to remind a
rich man of debt in equity Law
might not recognize it, but her grand
\ father had given him, thea pennlless'
well born, well Drained, his chance
I education, a profession and mainte-
nance, thru the waiting time 1t mad
taken for him to get foothold-
He had stamm ered, when he went,
something about paying all-later. His
/ benefactor had smiled at him: Pay
1 by passing it on. Maybe you'll see
plenty of other lads needing a help
| ing hand" And so the two had parted
without strain on either side.
If the man, Howard Lyle, had any
sort of memory, he must know the
value of the security he had offered
him. The plantation had been home
to him in his vacations. He had come
there for holidays in his days of strug-
Cling. True, it was not all it had
been, but still well worth the money
she needed-$2.0O0 without interest
for five years would let her turn her
deft fingers, her eye for line and col
or, to deserved profit.
Then she would pay-to the last
penny. Meantime, there was the land.
1t could neither die, run. TOR wash
away. EARNED in thrifty If easy fash
ion, it would keep granny. blind Aunt
Nell, Aunt Joe and her boys comfort
able, as they had always BEEN She
had no artistic yearning, albeit she
loved color and texture with real pas
sion, but a mad desire to be active.
doing things. being somebody, not in
vainglory, but because doing was her
greatest Joy.
Being all womanIy. she sighed in
secret for a home, a husband worthy
all love, children and the delight of
training them, but somehow none of
the men who had lowered a while on
the horizon had seemed to her the
right sort. That is to say. her ideal
fought with her opportunity-and so
far had won, hands down. She had
somehow always contrasted her posi-
BILE suitors with the Howard Lyle OF
her small-girl memory. He had been
slim and tall and 1.-THE, with a long
when he smiled.
Not handsome-stil possessed of
something that had put these others
visible in the flesh out of court with
her. She had built no romance around
him-that he had married a year af-
ter leaving the neighborhood was the
salient thing she knew of him. That
and his money-by law-ladder he had
climbed to the height or millions. If
he had children-girlS pecially-She
knew they were lucky; he was the
sort to look after and cherish his own.
AS she sauntered homeward reading
an opened letter a small car turned
into the lane, coming so swiftly that
in a minute it was upon her. She
drew aside with a start-the car was
so nearly noiseless it surprised her.
1t checked-a man sprang eagerly
from It and caught her arm, saying:
Il am-the answer to your letter.
You would have had it earlier only
L was away" Turning her to face
him as he spoke. then almost stagger-
ing as he breatned rather than said.
''E1inor Garland! You-you take me
back to-youth. 1t is uncanny-you
might be the Elinor knew then"
"You-you-1oved her." Elinor
asked with sudden clairvoyance. He
bowed his head. ''She loved me too
better than herself. Do you know Why
she sent me away, her father abet-
ting2 They did not tell me why
blindness was coming quickly--they'
you'd not let me carry the weight
and I never knew it until a month
ago Going thru my wife's private
papers. after her death I found the
letter that would have told me-and
eased my soul of torment.
"Can you guess what it has meant
to go all these years hugging a scar
ing flame? I thought they had
weighed me in the balance and found
me wanting. That is Why 1 kept 81
lence-stayed away from the best
friends man ever had, all these years. |
And then came your letter. can't |
tell you how it made me feel But this |
much you must hear-an the money |
you need or want. or will touch, is |
yours for the taking. I nave no child |
you shall be as my own. Now, take
me to blind Elinor. 1 cannot rest I'M |
til she knows the truth. Can she
bear ftp
''She can bear-anyth;ng." F,linor |
said proudly: 81 never knew, but al |
ways L have felt as she was the stuff |
that makes martyrs. And because 1
have her name. want to do it credit. |
For her sake, you may help me all |
that is good for me. Work that |
love is my real JOY"
"Comei I fear you will vanish I'm
less I keep you close" Howard Lyle |
answered, half lifting her into the car
There he said to the chauffeur. tall, |
lean and 1.-the, even as he himself had |
your prettiest. We are freishting |
something more precious than gold"
Aunt Nell on the porch. her fingers |
flying in ard out of bright woo1ly 4
mazes, caught breath and half rose, |
leaning forward as the car halted a { /
the steps. She was transparency |
lovely, there in the Pickering light, |
a rched over with pink clusters. |
her eyes as beautiful as ever. tho |
sightless turned toward the sound. As |