Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 151, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 June 1912 — Time to Think [ARTICLE]

Time to Think

By Jeanne O. Loizeaux

. 1912. by Associated Literary Press.) The girl seemed splendidly oblivious to her fellow travelers all day. She had boarded the train at Denver With very little but super-elegant baggage, and alone. She had been 'Wxclted at first, but as the hours passed her gaze became quieter, more thoughtful. She leaned her cloud of gold-brown hair back against the seat and idly watched the porter light up as the dusk fell upon them. Down the aisle a few seats and facing her sat a youth with his hat tipped back on his head. He was playing cards with a Kansas farmer, a traveling man from Chicago, and an old German woman. A little old lady, perfect in feature and every detail of dress, still beautiful, was . amusedly watching them alt The youth caught the traveling man’s glance as for the thousandth time it rested on the girl. “Easy to look at, Isn’t she?” quoth the youth. "But she wouldn’t stand for any freshness —from you, say!” he observed. . The man laughed with uneasy Impudence. "If Kansas and I lick you and the lady in this round, I’ll show you! I’ll go over and make good with that girl—my tricky!” And then the little old lady slowly rose and made her way to the girl, whose eyes were feverishly bright She smiled, , as anything alive to fineness must smile, when the old lady took the seat beside her—not like a protector, but as one seeking company. “You are alone, my dear?” “Quite —quite alone!” Then they talked, impersonally, but with friendliness, as strange women of the same world approach each other, the older woman wistful at the freshness of youth, the girl wishing for the tranquility of age. *The landscape was quite dark when she spoke again. “I was—going to California,” she said. And then, brusquely, “Did you ever do anything you were—sorry for? I mean, any really big thing? Did you ever make a decision because —you were blind with Ignorance, and be sorry and —scared after you had time to think?” She hurled the questions at the,* old lady, who accepted them calmly. She had watched for this chance, feeling something was wrong. “Yes, my dear child. You are a stranger, so I don’t mind telling you. Once, because I felt uneasy, I got off at a station after I had been started by my father to a girls’ school. I reached my father just in time to save him from suicide from melan-

choly over my mother’s death, and . my_ JEas_takiM me also from him. I never left him again—not even when I married.” y “ForgivC me —but did you marry the right man?" The little old lady laughed inside, and turned the worn wedding ring on her finger. She had known the troubled look was because of a man! It nearly always is! She reached for the girl’s hand, which tightened about hers, and continued: “I went up the altar steps twice — once to realize at the last moment that it was to meet the wrong man. It was the terrible moment of my life, but I held on to my courage. I whispered to him that I could not go with him, and then I mercifully fainted. A year after, I married the right man. He lived only two years—but I had the two' years; all the rest, before and after, was only for that—and I have my son." "Then you would always—follow your—" “Always follow your heart. If you let yourself be quiet, there will in v any great event be a still voice that -will show you the right path to choose.” The old lady waited. The girl grew very pale. “But if you had promised your father—when be was dying—to—marry somebody, and you liked him. and respected him! And when It was almost time for you to marry him and you were all ready, and the whole world knew about it, supposing some' one else came, and you knew in one moment that he was the right one? And you felt instantly that he knew It, too? . And then - when you were taking the train west to the first man’s mother’s, where all your wedding things were sent on. what if the real one forgot himself at the station and —showed you his heart?" She was breathless* and white, but her voice was very low. • The old lady was silent - “What would you do?" insisted the young voice. ‘Can’t you help me? J wish there would be a wreck!" “That is very foolish. Better be quiet and tellme about it Ton know It is not right to marry where you do not love. NAhing can make it light to do wrong." • “My promise—?" “The dead cannot live for the dear ones they leave behind. Your father would not hold ypu to it nor require such a sacrifice." - - “But the man—he cares for me, be has built me a home." “Tell him the tnjth. If you are

sure about this, ask him to release you. If he loves you he will do sa If he doesn't love you, that also would end ft. There Is only one right way. .It would be wrong to keep this from him. Am I right?” The girl nodded. The baffled traveling man passed them on his way to the dining car. ■the old lady rose decisively. ’Tm famished,” she said. “And you have eaten nothing for hours. Go in with me, and be sensible, and we’ll decide what to da We have ap hour’s wait —I am bound for California, too. Should be there now, but have been on a hurried business trip to Denier for my son. Come, my dear.” The girl followed and ate what her new friend ordered. Finally they returned to their car. "You will think It strange that I am alone. I have lived with a cousin. She was to take me, but I started a week early. I could not trust myself in the place with the right man another day. I should telegraph—they will not expect me. I have never seen Rex’s mother”—they were in the dark vestibule and the girl did not see the older woman start at Che name. "People tell me I am sure to love her. I can’t bear to have her think ill of me.” - “She will—understand,” breathed the old lady. “She will think no ill — but are you sure, sure about the other man?”

. \*Tf I—could have one week —one day with him, I would die happy!” She was taking her seat again and her eyes shone. “I would follow him anywhere in the world, give up anything for him—oh—” i“My dear, listen. We will be In Salt Lake early in the morning. We can stop off, go to a hotel and you can decide what to do. I will help you. You must have your berth made up now, and go to sleep. It will come out right for everybody.” But suddenly the old lady’s face seemed to have aged. “Helen —will you kiss me?” The girl did so. Afterwards she remembered that she. had not told her name. And in her berth she wondered" dreamily whether Rex Wharton would forgive her. Then she forgot all about.him and fell into dreams of Sherman King.

At the dirty, prosaic station at Salt Lake, in the brightness of the May morning, a quick, strange scene occurred. The old lady and Helen Travers had just entered, when the girl gave a cry. A tall, blond young fellow, very pale, snatched her to him and kissed her without a word. While the* older woman was looking her astonishment, another man, also young but graver, with a dark, fine face, stopped short at the door and watched the group. His features were a larger model of the fine old lady’s face, the chin more square, the forehead higher. He came over and took her hand. “Rex!” she breathed. “Oh, Rex. my poor boy! It couldn’t be helped—she isn’t to blame!” For still, though standing apart from Elin, Helen saw only Sherman King, and he her, and he stood talking to her in a low, eager tone. Rex Wharton almost crushed his mother’s hand In his. “Mothe*! I thought I would meet you here, send you on —home, and then go to Denver so What does it—mean?” ‘Then, as If a voice called her, Helen turned and saw him. She walked straight up to him, truth and courage-in-her-eyes. - “Rex,” she said, "you must forgive me. But I can’t —I—r” "You love some one else? Don’t be afraid of me! I can bear what is coming to me!” She gave a tragic little gesture and the other man stepped 'to her side with a protective movement Wharton gave a bitter little laugh, and the girl breathed the men’s names to each other. Rex put out his hand and gave King a hearty grasp—he was a man. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “that I don’t deserve —happiness. At any rate, you seem to be the better man. Helen, I am still in a manner responsible for you. What do you wish to do Shall my mother—” The girl’s eyes filled with sudden tears. "Oh,” she said. "If my mother had lived! Will you—stay xT’wf' hours until we —” » “Can be married? I willmake ar rangements immediately,” King finished. He turned away and Ret went with him a few steps, then returned. "Take a taxi to the St James,” ho said, “and wait for us." "Oh!” said the girl. “I feel like a wicked —wicked—" The old lady gave a rueful little smile. “Sherman King avenges my treatment of his—father," she said quietly. "It comes back to —my son."