Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 145, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 July 1917 — LIFTS THE SHADOW [ARTICLE]

LIFTS THE SHADOW

By DOROTHY BLACKMORE.

Lorna gazed pensively out over the vast gardens that surrounded her faNeither artistic endeavor n<’fr money had been spared in making the place one of exquisite beauty. , . , But Lorna’s eyes were shadowed and her lips petulant. «I might Just as well never have been born,” she often told herself. “Mamma and papa would have been spared much trouble if I had been left out of the world.” In this last thought Lorna was right. She had been the cause of anxiety and worry to her parents. They had done everything to make her happy. But they had failed to soften the steadily darkening shadows in Lorna’s eyes. Nothing in the world seemed to suit her, because she was satisfied with nothing that had the midutest imperfection in it. At times she gave way to fits of weeding. Now she had begun to weep softly as she sat on the fallen tree trunk in the forest of her father’s estate. A young man came whistling through the woods. He stopped and listened; he heard her sob. Lorna then looked up without attempting to hide her tears. “Wh —what’s the matter?” asked Bobhy Lake of the stranger, sympathetically. Lorna flashed a glance at him through the tears. “Everything!” she said, wrathfully. Bobby looked wise and nodded. The sympathy had left his expression and instead a suppressed smile lurked in his eyes. Lorna saw the twinkle and thought It brutal. “I am a very unhappy person,” she said. “Love affair?’ Bobhy said, sagely. “No! Certainly not,” Lorna retorted. “A pain, perhaps, from eating green apples?” Bobby ventured. “I haven’t even seen a green apple. . I am just unhappy,” Lorna said pensively. “I can’t find anything perfect. I find something to criticize in everyone and everything.” “Yourself included, I hope?” Bobby suggested. “I suppose_you realize that you are a little chump to sit on a fallen tree bawling for nothing at all?” Before Lorna could retort, Bobby Lake had turned on his heel and left her.

The next day when she was in the garden she tried to tell herself that she was not constantly on the alert for a sight Of the strange and impertinent young man. When she heard his whistle she felt her pulse quicken. “Has your disposition Improved?” he asked, without preamble. “My disposition is as good as your manners,” Lorna retorted. “I doubt even that,” Bobby said. “And what do you do with yourself besides sit out here and bawl?” he asked. “Wouldn’t It be better for a young woman who seems to have so much Idle time to go about the village visiting the poor mothers and offering them cheery hours. Or, maybe, it would suit you better to invite swarms of orphans to your lovely home —bring them out her and tell them fairy stories?” Lorna bit her lip. “I have never thought of—those things,” she admitted. “Of anything—but yourself, perhaps,” Bobby added. “You would be a peculiar person if you were happy under those circumstances. I see now why you weep. You are selfish; you are sorry for yourself. You are tired of your own personality. You are so wrapped up in yourself that you have failed to see the beauty of all this.” "You are rude,” Lorna said. With the words she turned and left him. Day after day the two met in the secluded corner of the garden. Day by day Lorna’s parents saw the shadows lifting from her eyes. One day Bobby told Loma that he was going back to town. She looked as if she were ready to weep. “Now—w'hat’s the matter?” h© asked. “Where is the sunshine I have been helping you to find?” “You are taking it all with you,” she said, choking over the words. Bobby took her roughly in his arms. *‘l am going to town only long enough to sell some canvasses in order to have enough money to buy a ring or two. Then I*m coming back to telt you I love you.” “Tell me now Bobby,” Lorna begged. “Tell me now. I don’t deserve to- hear such wonderful music, but, oh —I’ll promise to deserve all the happiness you have’ Sh'own me.” (Copyright, 1917, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)