Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 75, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 February 1909 — Won Through a Dream. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Won Through a Dream.

By GRACE BOWEN.

Copyrighted, 1909, by Associated Literary Press.

In a lonely shack on a North Dakota quarter section Edith Allen was facing the problem that comes to all of Eve’s daughters. A man great in his strength and mightier in bls love had asked her sur-render-had almost demanded it whefi he passionately tore aside conventional conversation and bared his heart and his hopes. That she had sent him away without an answer was not a negative reply to his wooing. She had begged for time to think, a space in which to analyze the emotions surging in her breast. Moreover, she half thought she loved him, and because she was a product of the city and had dug deep in the printed philosophy of life she wanted her brain to sit in judgment on her heart. “I know what you would say,” imperiously declared Jim, the lover. ”1 am nearer the animal than you. When fatigue follows a satiated joy of working my recreation is rest—physical comfort and sleep. I find nothing to grip me in books written by men whose lives have been cramped and narrow, by men with water in their veins instead of strong, red blood.” “No, no, Jim; it is not that,” interrupted Edith. “But it Is. It is just that. You know. lam a college man. Not from one of your famous eastern Institutions, true, but I fancy our North Dakota brand of education will be found the equal of Its older relations of New England. I went to please father. He was a poor man and felt that he had missed much because his school days had been few. That his son need not suffer this handicap in life be made many sacrifices. “I am grateful to him for the love that prompted this self denial, and I am glad that I have what learning I

brought back with me, but I resign all interest In morbid, fleshly decadence for God’s good out of doors.” ▲nd Stuart looked at the girl before him wonderlngly, with his eyes glow* Ing with love of her. “Leave me alone, Jim. No, not another word. I must think; I must think. Good night, Jim." And she watched him go out of the door and across the prairie. Years before a palmist had told the girl that her head would rule her heart. He had called attention to the peculiar formation of the lines of her left hand arid had pointed out the bead line that ran straight across the palm, obscuring and dominating the lesser line that represented the heart. In a measure she believed it. All her life she had been intensely mental and had plunged far into the writings of men and women whose apostolic missions are of discontent When she collapsed physically under the strain of her labors as teacher in a city school the physician bad imperatively ordered her to get to the open country if she longed to live. ▲lone in the world, she could not indulge in idleness, and. being exiled from the schoolroom, she was at a loss which path to take. A friend suggested that she enter a homestead in the west, and it had appealed to her. Her savings were sufiicient to pay for necessary labor in clearing and breaking the land until the crops were ready, for harvest, and she had confident assurance that her work would some day repay her. As an investment, both financial and physical, it delighted her. - Stuart met her in the office of the Itocator in the little town which was the railroad station nearest to her destination. One learns to react men and women at first sight in the big, pulsing west, and no half trust is given. She was in need of guidance, and her new found acquaintance became her counselcr and friend. When she spoke of getting men to help her build the two room frame house that was to be her home he came himself. When she offered him the current wage he accepted it, because he understood how Impossible it was to do otherwise, but afterward he sent other men and contented himself with sug-

gestions that in reality ismounted "to superintendence. ’ j. Thus two yean had slipped awfly. Her health had returned, the glow in her cheeks told that, and the life in the spen had re-enforced her for her old vocation—ls she cared for it She believed it was her career, though the glamour of existence close to the heart of nature held a charm she could not deny, and there was conflict in her mind as to the better choice. Then came Stuart’s love. She had grown to like him much, but with a reservation that he did not measure up to the ideal she had cherished. She believed she demanded mental sympathy no less than physical caresses. To make a perfect union the man must appreciate with her the books that held her, and they would penetrate together the mysterious paths of learning to wisdom. Therein was Stuart lacking. Slumber would not eome at bidding the night Stuart told his love. She tossed fretfully as she tried to evade the problem before her. Like memories of pain, it refused banishment. “Do I love bin? Is he necessary to me? He is dear as a friend, I know, but beyond that—what?” she said to herself. When sleep came it was troubled dreams intruded, and she thought she saw herself and Stuart galloping side by side over the prairies to the westward. Behind them was an ocean of fire; th’e crackling of flames sounded in her ears; she could feel the hot wind, born in the heart of the burning grass, blister her neck. On and on, with the margin of safety growing narrower until within a dozen jumps of’the furrow’ that would balk the Are. Her horse stumbled in a gopher hole, regained his poise, blundered again, apd she was thrown to the prairie. “Jim!” she cried. The flames were upon her now. He slid from his horse, gathered her in his arms, holding her .face close to his breast to shield her from suffocation, and staggered across the safety line with the angry flames turning to a sullen, dead red, as if crying out maledictions on her rescuer for depriving them of their prey. “Jim. Jim!” she shrieked in her deirlum. “Suppose I had lost you!” There was a rapping at the door. Consciousness slowly returned to her; she shook recollections of the nightmare from her. “What’s the matter, Edith? Are you hurt?” '“No; I’ll be out in a minute. Walt." And she hastily dressed. “You’re ill,” he exclaimed when she appeared. “You are ghostly pale.” “Oh, Jim, I’ve had such a dream!” she said. “Dreams are silly things, Edith. Surely you would not let one frighten you!” he soothingly said. “But this one did. And, Jim, I know now,” and her head dropped to hide the flush of her cheeks. “Yes?" said Jim, not comprehending. “What you asked me yesterday.” “Sweetheart! And your answer?" Hr eagerly ran to her. “Yes, Jim, I love you." And in the embrace that followed the artificialities of troublesome philosophies in the depth of an emotion primitive and elemental.

“LEAVE ME ALONE, JIM. NOT ANOTHER WORD.”