Jasper County Democrat, Volume 8, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 June 1905 — MISSING [ARTICLE]

MISSING

It Is said that In New York an average of one person a day disappears. I am one of these persons. I mysteriously disappeared five years ago aujl have never since been beard from, yet I have visited tlTe place from which I vanished; I have walked past the house; I have looked lu at the window. A policeman who might have reaped a large reward had he known me was Idly patrolling his beat. I fled to escape from a man I was about to marry. Chester Burnham was a refined gentleman, of suitable age for me and doing nn excellent business. I was uncertain in my feelings when I accepted him, but the more I analyzed them the more I became convinced that I did not love him. My conception. of love was that it was a pleasurable disease, if I may be allowed the expression, the symptoms of which were wanting in my case. A repugnance not to Chester Burnham, but to entering Into wedlock without this condition or disease or what not, took possession of me and drove me well nigh frantic. I had permitted the affair to go so far that I dared not break it off, or, rather, I could not do so and face either my fiance or my friends. The evening before the wedding I was in a condition to do something desperate, and I did. I snatched up my purse and my Jewels, walked out of the house, went to a railway station, took the first train that left and lauded the next morning I knew not where, only that I was In a city many miles from my home. I had nearly SIOO and Jewels worth several thousand. Of course I soon awoke to the fact that I had made a move idiotic, wicked, Irreparable, but I had no thought of returning. I examined my feelings for the man from whom I had fled, but could detect no great change. I regretted having treated him so abominably, and as I thought over his traits it seemed to me that he was far above the average man. It was not long before I began to miss his acts of kindness, his attentions, even his endearments, yet this, at least to my mind, was not love. I was a girl of nineteen, with an analytical mind. That was five years ago, and I am still among the missing. I have made acquaintances and friends. I have met men, but none for whom I have felt that subtle something which is my idea of love. None of them has seemed In any way equal to Chester. How often I have wished to sit down with him and hear one of his practical, common sense talks! How lucky he was to get rid of me! I wonder if he is engaged again or married? • *••••• Chester Burnham has failed in business. I saw the announcement in a newspaper. I wish that I might see him, comfort him. “Comfort scorned of devils.” What right would I have to comfort him ? • •••••• The desire to see him, If only once, waa too strong to be resisted. From my knowledge of him I was sure he would bear his misfortune bravely. Then I remembered that he was within a few years of forty, and I have heard that a man who breaks down in business at that age seldom recovers. He will recover. He is all strength and intellect. • • • • * • •

I arrived yesterday afternoon, and so great was my Impatience that I went to the house where he had lived when I fled from him and loitered near, thinking to see him when he came in Just before dinner. A few minutes after 6 I saw him coming. But, oh, how changed! His hair, that bad been a glossy black, was almost white. Instead of the strength I had expected to see in his face there was an expression of infinite sadness. What curious creatures we women are, even at times to ourselves! All my feelings toward Chester Burnham I had misinterpreted. When he was prosperous I fled from him. When I heard that he had failed I thought I should be drawn to him at seeing him override his misfortune. Now that I found a blight on him—a blight which I had in part doubtless caused—l wanted to go to him and put my arms about him. How I dared approach him I don’t know. I could not help it, though I expected him to stab me. I was thickly veiled, and he could not see my face. When he had passed me I turned and a few steps from his house stole up beside him and put my hand within his arm. He looked down at me surprised and shook me off. “Pardon me,” he said coldly. "I am unaware to whom I am indebted for this apparent friendliness.” % ‘To one,” I said in a scarcely audible voice, “who is unworthy to touch you with her finger.” I lifted my veil. At times there are events comprised within a few days, hours, sometimes even minutes or seconds, that could not be described or if they could be described volumes would be required for the purpose. Chester and I are reconciled. The sadness of his expression came, he says, not from his failure, but from the blow I gave him. And now I have a purpose. My life is to be spent In atoning for my fault and supplying the Incentive for the man I injured to get again on his feet, to minister to hi t every need, to love him devotedly. What Is my idea of love today? Well, the little god has many arrows. They all shoot love, but none of them shoots an awakening of love. It was till* awakening that I needed. BESSIE CHACE HAIGHT.