Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 218, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 September 1916 — The Deeper Detail [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Deeper Detail

By EUNICE MARIAN WALLER

(Copyri£ht. 1916. by W. O. Chapman.) Tea years In the service of Artingstall & Cholraondely, architects, five of the same spent in a little room containing only a drafting table and a high .stool—that had become the familiar of John Bruce. “Not that It’s so bad —only monotonous," Bruce was wont to explain to his few .friends. “There’s one blessed environment: the court beyonu my window, open, full of free air, and the jbirds have built a nest just across under the eaves, and my box of pansies on the window slil do some wonderful blooming, so. you see I have a touch of the wildwood right at home.” The wildwood —the real wildwood — John Bruce had only dreamed of that, for there had been no vacation for a full decade. He had not grumbled much, however. His position was quite lucrative. It had enabled him tc pro-, vide for two sisters until they were happily married, to put aside later £uite a respectable surplus. At twenty-eight Bruce was the uniform, pleasant, lovable fellow he nad been at eighteen, never realizing that to an exacting servitude he had sacrificed the best years of his life, having little of the lighter enjoyments of .youth and nothing at all of love. It was a red-letter day in the life *»f John Bruce when the senior partner, Artingstall, sent for him. “We have a commission for you, Mr. Bruce,” he said. “It will take you .■away for a month.” “Away—from the office —the city — for a month!” repeated Bruce, as astonished as would be a schoolboy tendered a lifetime vacation. “Yes, we are solicited to take up y plans for the restoration and decoration of Warrenton. You will recall

that we did some work for the Warren estate some years since.” Bruce remembered. General Warren, a wealthy man with half a dozen country seats, took the whim to occupy the old family manse seinioccasionally. Bruce had sketched some garden pagoda work, on verbal order, some seven years previously. He recalled the time with a pleasant sensation. The general. world-weary and blase, had come to the office with his daughter, HeloIse, a tall, dark beauty, stately in her manner, but gracious in her bearing. While her father was indifferent as to architectural details. Miss Warren had a love of art, and for nearly two hours Bruce and she had passed a very harmonious time, selecting the lines of style and detail to be followed out in the construction of the pagodas. “Queer thing here. Mr. Bruce.” said Artingstall. “Miss Warren has written ‘attention of Mr. Bruce, please,’ so she seems to want you and no one else." Bruce blushed with both embarrassment and pleasure. It was gratifying to consider that, after all these years, a lady should recall his past services and even lemeiuber Tis natneT “It seems,” proceeded liis employer, “that the general is dead. Of course, his daughter is his heiress. She is a little past girlhood, as you know, a young lady more given to study and a quiet life than social follies. Very commendable, that. The estate, I learn, has shrunk considerably these latter years. she has sold off most of Jt, favor 3 Warrenton and designs making it more habitable and her permanent home. ’ “I see," nodded Bruce. “She wants the work done on the spot. Inclines to the old Moorish technique, I fancy, from her former selections. Take a couple of portfolios in that Une, and you can send for reenforcements as needed.” John Bruce felt like a person going forth alone into the world as he prepared for a month’s sojourn in an unfamiliar country. Somehow now’ he was fluttered at the thought of dealing with a young lady, tie engaged quarters at the Rfwn hotel and sent word to Warrenton that he was ready

to place himself at the service of its mistress. A servant nppedred with the statement that apartments had been prepared for him at the hall, and thither his traps were removed and himself Installed. It was the next morning when he met Miss Warren. She was more benutiful than ever. She was in mourning, and this lent a subdued to the always intelligent eyes. She greeted Bruce as she would have done an old, respeoted,friend. She recalled the work they had mutually done in the city, and anticipated great interest and pleasure in the projected improvements upon the manse. The library had been cleared and arranged for the work designed. Bruce was surprised and charmed at the elaborate thought and work his client had already put upon the'plans. He regarded her with the overt admiration his genuine nature could not conceal as she outlined her ideas. “I see that my services will be purely superficial and subsidiary. Miss Warren,” he observed. She bowed at the compliment, but added: “My ideas are merely a prelude, Mr. Bruce. You must discern something lacking. It is good, expert skill I need for the deeper detail.”

That phrase covered the situation in a bewildering way from then forward.It prevailed all through cherished halcyon days. It was discussion, suggestion, direction, rather than any great volume of active work, and diversified by automobile trips to mansions at a distance, some facade or ornament of which had attracted Heloise. llow much this over-agreeable and intelligent quest had become necessary to her life, Heloise Warren did not realize until the four weeks had passed by. - “The deeper detail” had been worked out to her satisfaction. It had comprised a free modernization of old Castilian dome features and Arabian fretwork. Heloise was almost jubilant as Bruce handed her the finished plans. “We have another-week to go over everything and be sure there are no necessary modifications,” she said. She glanced inquiringly and rather disappointedly at the face of her guest as she spoke. For a week past he had somehow changed. He was graver, deeply thoughtful. “The work has tired you, I fear,” she added regretfully. “Oh, never!” he burst forth, borne out of himself by sheer emotion. “I could stay in this paradise forever!” and then he drew back, abashed. “Then —” she began. Her voice faltered. A delicate flush crossed her velvet cheek. “There is a deeper detail you would not understand,” he scarcely voiced audibly, and his wistful glance drooped. She was trembling all over. Too fully she valued and cherished the sterling nature, the delicate promptings of this modest yet grave master mind.

“How do you know’ that?” she challenged, and her breath canje quicker. “The deeper detail —” “That draws me away before —before I offend you,” he stumbled. “How could you offend me?” she just murmured, the echo of a sob, in her liquid tones. “Tell me of this ‘deeper detail’ that seems to be troubling you !” she rallied. “Perhaps in that, as in our other pleasant mutual work, w’e may be harmonious.” “I dare not believe it,” —despair. “You may at least explain it” —encouragement. —“Then” —wavering hope) “Speak, I bid you.” “The deeper detail is—love.” She drew nearer to him with a little famished cry. He stared at her unbelievingly. “Yes," she said simply, but never lifting her eyes, "the deepest, sweetest detail, indeed!” Her hands went out and rested within his own—bliss!

"We Have a Commission for You, Mr. Bruce."