Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 160, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 July 1910 — IN THE VALLEY OF DECISION. [ARTICLE]

IN THE VALLEY OF DECISION.

By Miss Ella Kenney.

The pale shadows of departing day are creeping over thi earth, the last lingering rays of the setting sun cast a golden light on church spire and roof and the bluebird chants forth In melodious voice the last sweet notes of his evening Bong High up in her room among the stars face sits a girl, whose face and figure are thrown into strong relief against a background of scarlet and gold. She sits at the open window, and the soft mellow rays of the setting sun cast gentle shadows that seem to accentuate her Isolation. In her face Is expressed the remoteness of the spirit that will ever see visions and dream dreamß, wnile in her dwelt in sweet accord all * those qualities, those subtle elusive elements of perfection that we esteem but can never wholly fathom. As she raises her eyes her glance takes in the room—the open fire, the easy chair, the table on which rests a bundle of manuscripts, and a soft smile creeps over her countenance. Children of the Mist,’ - she murmurs, and lays caressing fingers on the neat pile of papers. Her fancy wanders in and out through the vista of departed years and she sees herself a young and happy girl embarking on the sea of literature. A brief and hardworking period of novitiate found her at the height of fame. Her books became a household possession and her presence was sought at many a gathering, not only for her fame as a writer, but because her sweet, sympathetic nature drew humanity toward her, and her charity and sweet helpfulness cheered many an unsuccessful follower.

One window of her room looked out on many a roof garden, but one little opening that caught the first sweet flush of dawn and the last lingering set of sun. She loved the wide glory of the purple sky. Its lbneliness and Its mystery. A sleeping princess, waiting for her prince,” she designated herself. This little world had at time a fairy brightness that contrasted with its occasional loneliness and the dark hour when frost and snow shut out her view of sun and moon and stars. It made one side of her life, one part of her existence. The other half of her consciousness belonged to the world outside, to the ostentation and vanities that characterized her fellowmen. She found that standing on the outskirts of the dim multitudes she could view here, as well as in her high window, rising cnostellatlous, fleeing eclipses and Intermittent silences.

The view fascinated her, and when at last the prince came, her whole heart had leaped responsive to the great happiness; she was carried along in the whirl; utterly swept off her feet, robbed of all volition. There seemed no leisure hours to spend at her high window, and she felt blinded and deafened by the clamor of her heert. But at last there came a quite moment when, seated In her nook among the stars, ner thoughts resolved themselves from chaos and she could Survey calmly and logically her position. As she glanced at the solitaire he had placed upon her finger she seemed to see In Its place a chain that bound her in rivets of steel.

“My wife,” he would say In one of their plans for the future, “must not be a public woman| The life of a woman in the public eye is utterly distasteful to me.” That she should give up her writing was the sum of his desires. At firstAfegfie poignancy of he: grief she ba<rttle--l to eliminate him from her life, but the long stretches of loneliness and the insistent cries of her heart rendered futile ail attempts at separation, and she realized with a pang that she had come to a parting of the ways. Now once more seated at her high window in the clouds, her hands caressingly, lingeringly laid upon her manuscripts, she feels that "something she had begun to live for has gone for nothing; something sweet, ardent and keen must come to an end. She crosses the room to the open fireplace, where the fitful darts of flame cast fantastic shadows on wall and floor, and kneeling, she stirs the dying embers. into a br'ght glow Then gdntly, tenderly, she places the neat parcel on the coals. of the Mist,” she whispers, “farewell.’" As the papers catch the glow they quicken Into flame, then die out; a coal becoming detached from its security falls with & sibilant, hissing noise and In the rosy glare 1b reflected a subtle change in the face of the kneeling girl—the old look of surprise In the brown eyes has gone; the old air of enchantment has departed; she seems to have gained In equipoise; she had lived through something. The sleeping princess had come Into her kingdom.