Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 147, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 June 1911 — Breaking Away [ARTICLE]

Breaking Away

By JEANNE LOIZEAUX

(Copyright, 19x1, by Associated Literary Preu.)

Kingston Corey, anxious .to know his fate’, met the mail for the camp. The precious letter was there —he sorted it from the others in a moment and tore it open. His eyes lighted and his hfcad lifted with pride. He tore back through the green woods toward the small group of tents on the lakeside, where Mrs. Tiverton was chaperoning her daughter Leona and a dozen other young people who were camping. His first thought had been of his Smother—she would be glad. Then he made his way straight to Leona. His jaw set a llttje as he remembered that he had left her flirting, Ln her refined but desperate way, with Harry Spear. Harry, too, was being dangled. This would decide matters. He found her seated on a big pillow under a birch tree, her dark head against the white trunk, her saucy eyes bright, her mouth set stubbornly. Harry was just leaving her, his face dark. Kingston walked straight up to the girl and held her out the letter, which she took, reading it lazily. Her face hardened a little, and she held out her hand formally. “Congratulations!” she said, “since you seem to be delighted over such a crazy proposition—going to .live in a South American wilderness! Won’t it be hard to break away?” His heart sank, but he eagerly began to explain. “Why, it’s the chance of a lifetime for an engineer. Under Foster, the greatest man of his profession agoing, and at a salary to begin on that makes me Independent, with every opportunity to work Up. Don’t you see, Leona?” He reached and took her hand, but she drew it back. Anger as well as hurt arose in him. He sprang to his feet. “Leona, are you going to marry me and go with me? Could you be ready in twfe weeks? That’s all the time we will have.” ' "You —must be crazy, King! I never thought you were in earnest about going out there! Father could do better for you financially—he’d be glad to —” "You haven’t answered me, Leona. You’ve trailed me for two years; I’ve been engaged to you all that time, and you’ve been engaged to me when -you pleased, and were not too busy flirting with some one else. I’m a civil engineer, and even if there was work for me in a manufacturer’s office, I would not be dependent on your father for anything. I love you as I always have —you know that. I want you—for my wife, but if you marry me, my life will have to be yours. You can have all I have and all I am, but I shall be myself, not somebody else. Will you go with me? Do you—love me enough? You won’t, have the luxuries you have at home, but you’ll have a wide, free life,' and love always!” He spoke rather hotly, but he had been patient a long time. The girl rose and looked at him. Her first impulse was to yield, to tell him she would follow him anywhere. Then the old pride came up. "In —two weeks? With no wedding? —scrambling my things together, when you could as well stay in civilization? No, thank you!” She intended it to begin as a discussion in which she would finally be beaten, but for once she was surprised. "As you wish,” he answered coldly. He walked quietly away and left, her. Leaning up against the tree, she thought it out. After supper she would ffet him seek her out—she. would relent, and he would be less masterful, more yielding. But again her plans failed. When she came back to camp she saw the little crowd all standing about him, laughing, congratulating him. He was in business clothes, his suitcases beside him. “You’re all good friends, the very best,” he said. "It will be hard to—break away. But I shall need every minute I can give mother, and two weeks is a short time to settle my business affairs up in. And lest I should not meet all of you in town again before I go, I am going to say good-by.” He shook hands warmly with every one, Leona not first or last, but simply among others. She felt the glance of the others curiously upon her, and was angry and hurt that no one even chaffed her about his going. Did they think she cared? Did they think he had not asked her-to go? Did they think her sensitive about him? The plan had been for ten days longer in camp. Spear, delighted at Kingston Corey’s departure from the field, devoted himself to Leona, who was glad to show her independence by encouraging his devotion. But the days became interminable to her. and the nights sleepless. From anger and surprise, she became dismayed, and then her heart sank hopelessly. Had he said his last word to her? Would he not write? She began taking the daily long walks to meet the mall, but there was no word to her from him. He must hav# meant it. Fear seized upon her- and then grief. Her one effort was to hide it from the others by sheer surface gayety. A week passed. She was counting the days—seven —before he went away for always! And without even seeing her again! Could she bear it? The time dwindled to five, to four days, then to thfee. It was more

than she could endure. She planned quickly, caring nothing of what the others might say or think. On the afternoon mail came a letter from her father, wishing she were at home It gave her an excuse. *Dad wants me to come home,” she said to Mrs. Tiverton, “and 1 want to start right away. Could Gray take my things to the station?” Her face was so pale, her eyes so eager, that the wise woman said nothing and was kindly helpful. She divined something of the spoiled motherless girl’s predicament, had watched her proud treatment of young Corey, who was proud enough, too? whose patience had manifestly come at last to an end. No one blamed Corey. Once in her own room, Leona’s struggle with herself began. Her return was duly ; chronicled in the papers. Woud he come to see her? Another precious day, and no word. In secret and feierfshy she packed and disposed of a her many beongings. hardy knowing why. Her lather thought she was ill and talked doctor and travel. He dared not ask about Corey, but secretly thought if she had gnally sent him away that he, John Scott, had missed a fine son-in-law. Not that he wanted to lose his girl, either, but he wanted her happiness. Then Leona waked up one morning to know that cm, the' evening of the next Kingston Corey would start for South America evidently alone—surely without coming to see her, even to bld her good-by. She did not consider that good-by would be a hard thing for him to say when Lis heart had depended on taking her with him. At noon even her pride deserted her. She went to the telephone, called for a special messenger, and sat down to her desk. She had grown almost thin in her anxiety, and there were shadows about her eyes, her curling dark hair was carelessly knotted and she wore a loose, pale blue morning dress. She began slowly to write to King. She tried again and again. What could she say? The truth? Could she write, "I am sorry—l want to go with you; I don’t care about a wedding, or anybody in the world but you?" She tried it, but threw the sheet on the floor of the big living room, and tried it again. “Dear King, I have never loved any one but you—won’t you forgive me?” This seemed utterly abject to her. She discarded that also, not noting that the fresh summer wind picked it up and whirled it over the bare polished floor to the door opening upon the veranda, and that the first sheet caught on the edge of a rug. '■ Again she tried, and this time it was shorter yet; she knew the messenger would come in a moment, and. she had been wasting time in- thinking, in trying to save her pride. Now she let it go. ' : “Dear King,” she wrote, "I can’t stand It to have you go without me. I can be ready in two days or in two hours, if you will take me—or I will go just as I am. I don’t care for anything but you— —” She heard the bell ring, and went on writing, not looking up, aS the maid let some one in. “You will have to wait a moment, messenger," she said, but, a queer feeling came over her, and lifted »her eyes. Kingston Corey, his face rather stern and set. was deliberately reading a sheet of paper. He stooped and picked up another piece near the reg, and read that. Then, his face alight, he came toward her, but tears filled her eyes, and her vision of him wavered, though she rose and stood waiting, still clutching the unfinished note in one hand. "Leona, did you—mean what is written here?” "Yes,” she said, and gave him the paper in her hand, "and I mean this, too. I was going to send it to yon. Oh, it’s terrible not to have any shame or pride or anything!” "But love? It is—terrible, dear. But it’s—the best thing, too, isn’t it?” She nodded her tousled head, and then sprang away from him. "Don’t you think you’d better telephone dad to come home this minute? There'll have to be some quick work around here.”