Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 January 1917 — After the Years [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

After the Years

By Virginia Lee Hazleton

♦Copyright, ISI6, by_W. G. Chapman.) “Lovedale! Why -does.it hauntme? Ouess I’m getting moonstruck!” 4 Wallace Campbell, thirty, thrifty, ‘taking his first vacation in ten years, Arrived at his destination, Willoughby i Springs, a summer resort, was neither rested nor enjoying himself as he had anticipated. Nice people surrounded him, but he did not know them, and, being naturally shy and reticent, he —isas not. likely to make many acquaintances on his own initiative. “Made a mistake, too much wealth and fashion here,” meditated Wallace. “ ‘Lovedaie.’ I just caught the sign on a little station as the train flashed by. Town looked like a nest of roses and peaceful, happy people, real nature surroundings and all that. Lovedale — oh, dear!” and Wallace drifted into vivid retrospect and fancy. He had been always sentimental, he had often told himself, until Immersed In business cares for a time that phase of his nature temporarily retired. .Now it had come to the front again. When a week previous he had arranged to take a vacation, his romantic fancies sprang into new life. The flowers, the brooks, the birds seemed luring him into the mysteries of the wildwood. A memory of his boyhood days spent among just such environment emphasized the prospect. The recollection of a sunny girlish face added the fascination to the mind picture. All the years, off and on, he had recalled the pretty town where he was born and ever and. anon the sparkling face of Luella Brice would float "before his imagination. But he had heard that

the town had become a busy, manufacturing center and that Luella had married long since; and moved away. The man was famished for loves He did not know It, but that was what made him longing, restless/ His nature was gentle, his ideals sweet and pure, and he had not met any responsive elements in the rough harness of business. Now, all of those cares thrown aside, he was seeking, though unconsciously, for sympathy, glamor, romance. Lovedale was a sweet-sound* Jng name for a pretty rural town. It was suggestive, enticing. His fervid fancy built up a tempting picture of its possibilities. He decided to pack up and spend his vacation there. Wallace arrived at Lovedale at about dusk the next day. The little burg did not look so inviting after all as he passed down its one business street. There was a post office, a few decayed frame store buildings, and everything ■Was crude and dilapidated. There were gardens and flowers galore, however; a pretty lake at the edge of the town, and woods that showed an enticing, coolness' and shade. The place had no hotel, but Wallace was able to secure board and lodging at a farmhouse. There was compensation for his rather disappointed ideas of the evening previous as he viewed the general ensemble the next morning. The air was bracln&^^the^al^feT peace. He came across a grizzled old man mending a fence. V._ :~~r~T:Tr~ Pretty little town yotrhave here,” remarked Wallace. “Mod'rit so,” responded the old man. “Stranger?” .« "Why, yes. I’ve come to spend a vacation.” “You’ll flmMt dull, unless yqu like fishing. Game all gone long ago.” "Rather a peculiar name you give your town,” intimated Wallace. "I gave It,” announced the old man proudly. “Indeed? . Suggested by some romiinw in vour life. I imply,” observed Wallace, feeling that he found a kindred soul. “Me —har! har! Oh, no! You see, my name Is Love —Joseph Love.” «6h, i see!” and Wallace stroked his chin reflectively and felt that sentimentality was at a low ebb lif Lovedale. r- ' *■ ■■■'■■'T : The inhabitants of Lovedalfc did not They were too busy to

get acquainted with strangers. There was a touch of romanticism in his woodland wanderings, however, that fed his idealistic fancy. This w.as the discovery of a gypsy band, whose Qomadie life he found of interest -and worthy of study, and his chivalry and compassion were exercised in behalf of a wrinkled old Romany dame who had been arrested for drunkenness. Wallace paid her fine and sent her away grateful. ' That gratitude found expression. Wallace had taken a long stroll quite a distance away from Lovedale. It was dusk the following evening and he -was wearied and footsore as he came "WTThtirstghtorttrgiittlc--tewfragfriH. He aware of It, but the village had been- stirred to its depths since his departure. A little child, a miss of four, had disappeared. Search all around the district had failed to reveal a trace of her whereabouts. The gypsy band that had been camping in the vicinity was suspected and followed, but the missing child was not found in their keeping^ “Stop—>l must speim to you!” suddenly halted Wallace, pursuing a woodland path. The speaker was the old Romany dame whose part he had so kindly taken. Her face was bruised, there was,the taint of liquor on her breath, but her voice was steady and full of meaning. “In trouble again, mother!” inquired Wallace kindly. “Yes, that sot of a husband of mine has beaten me as usual. Listen, you was good to me. Ido not forget. You shall have a reward.” \ “For what?” inquired Wallace. “A child was stolen from the town yesterday. They offer a hundred dollars reward for finding her. You shall have the reward. It was my husband who stole her. He has .been hiding in an old hut in the woods. The child is there. He is lying stupid with Come.”She soon made Wallace understand the situation. Inside of an hour he was headed villagewards, a terrified weeping child In his arms. His kindly care, however, and a sight of the nearink lights of the town gradually lessened her distraction.

“What is your name, little one?” he asked. “Luella T-—-” —-—- •The name thrilled him. That was the name of his .old-time love. He had never forgotten her. “And you know where you live —you can show me?” “Oh, yes!” declared the little one brightly. “Mamma will be so glad! I am all she has. Papa Is dead,” and she prattled -pn until they neared a little cottage. A group was gathered at Its gate, visitors to the desolated home. A screalb rang out as Wallace apwoman broke from the throng and%lasped the child In her arms in frantic delight. “Oh, my pretty! Oh, my lost one, found-found!” -she cried, and her neighbors gathered about Wallace. He was trembling all over as he told his story, for the mother of the child was the Luella of hts early years. She did not recognize him until he was forced to her presence by the Joyful crowd. Then one glad, grateful clasp of her hand, and Wallace was once more under the spell of her rare beauty. “Lost, found—the child,” he mused, as he went on his way with a warm Invitation to come again. “Lost, found-*-love?” He hoped It, and saw Luella next day and many a day thereafter, and he knew It one moonlight evening when he asked her to bless his lonely life. “Lovedale,” he said. “Ah, prgtty as It Is, It is a misnomer. To me It has become a veritable loveland!”

“You’ll Find It Dull, Unless You Like Fishing.”