Jasper County Democrat, Volume 12, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 April 1909 — In Lilac Days [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

In Lilac Days

By GERTRUDE MANSFIELD.

Copyrighted, 1909, by Associated Literary Press.

“Eh, what’s that?” Alan Berresford, tall, athletic, good looking, swinging at a rattling pace down the city streets, flung around as an odor, fraint, fragrant, delicious, assailed his nostrils. “Lilacs, by Jupiter!” Lilacs, in truth. The street stand at the corner brimmed over with them—great purple swaying plumes of sweetness among their cool, green,, smooth, heart shaped leaves. “Lilacs, sir?" The swarthy skinned young vender evidently expected a liberal purchaser. “Tee—no; wait a minute!” And this prosperous man of affairs, whose dictum could shake the board of trade building over on Lasalle street to its foundations, stood looking absently at the flowers, lost in retrospection. Lilacs! He qaw all at once the quaint home in a pretty, peaceful country town. He saw, too, tbe overgrown old garden where the peonies and .gooseberries interlaced silken stems and briety branches, and farther back still, Just where the emerald slopes of the orchard came gently dimpling down, a secluded green stretch of pathway. At either side a row of lilac bushes grew higher than a man’s bead —a way of bloom and beauty, of overwhelming fragrance. Lilac lane they called it And when the moon rose and set shifting shadows about the place it was a luminous mosaic of moving leaves and silvery lights where he and Elsie walked. “Lilacs, sir?” “Yes—a lot.” Berresford pulled himself together with a start Ah, that all seemed so long ago! Had he been letting himself drift into a sentimental dream—here, in broad daylight on one of the most crowded streets of a great city? He glanced around half guiltily. Then, with a little cynical smile and shrug of his shoulders, be turned to the Greek flower seller. “Send those to my hotel.” He motioned to a great earthen Jar full of the beautiful blooms. He penciled name and number on his

business card and handed It to the man with a bill. Then, receiving his change, he walked on, the scent of the lilacs still seeming to perfume the surging city street ‘tflello. Berresford!” But the man addressed apparently did not bear, in this place of blare and bustle his thoughts had gone astray. He was no longer walking down the street of a western metropolis. He was walking with a girl in a gown of palest rose and green through the changeful lights and shadows that flickered over Lilac lane.

"Hold <>n, Alan! What la the matter with you? You’ll get run over the first thing you know! Can't you speak to an old.friend?” Berresford swung around. An old friend! All the dreaminess went out of his eyes. His jaws were set—hard. Yes, a Judas friend—one who could and did betray! And that now, just now, in this crowded city street he should loom up—he who bad been responsible for such disillusion, such sorrow, such loneliness! “Ronald!” he cried in scorn. “How dare you speak to me?” Amazement was apparent on the face of the man who had addressed him. “Alan Berresford, have yo* gone clean daft? Why should I not speak to you? We who sat side by side in the same school, went swimming in the same creek, went sweathearting together”— Berresford controlled himself with an effort Men were passing whom he knew whose salutations, deferential and admiring, be mechanically acknowledged. The necessity for self control was obvious. “We must not attract attention,” he said. “Let us walk on."

And walk on in silence they did. It was not until they had gone several blocks that Beresford could control himself sufficiently to explain bis repudiation of Ronald Dever. “It is a queer coincidence,” he said, “that you should have spoken to me just when I was dreaming of the little old town in which we both grew to manhood.” He had himself so well in hand now that he spoke almost dreamily. “Of course 1 was thinking most of the Rivers’ home, Where we both used to visit You probably know that I was engaged to Elsie Rivers when that fortune—which is the cornerstone of my wealth today—was left me, and 1 was obliged to go abroad to claim it.” The other gave a startled glance. “No; I never knew that?' he said. Berresford pressed his lips tightly together before he spoke again. “It was midwinter when I left—springtime when I returned. And, of course, I went at once to our old home town. Elsie was out, her mother said, somewhere around the grounds. I went immediately to our old trystlng place in Lilac lane. There was the same familiar walk, ail odorous with bloom and the moonlight falling In a thousand shifting lights and shadows, just as 1 always loved to remember”— His voice broke curiously. His companion, a slight, dark man, younger than he, looked at him with frank anxiety in his eyes. “She was there,” went on Berresford. “Bo was a man whose arm encircled her as they walked. Her head almost touched his shoulder. Her drooping face I could not see distinctly, but the height and walk were those of Elsie, whom I bad called my Elsie. I believe,” with a sudden chill change of tone, “that Is all 1 need explain, Dever!” “No,” said Dever quietly, “it Isn’t quite all. Who was her escort? Who was the man?” A great wrath shook Berresford from head to feet. He whirled around upon bls companion, white to the lips. “You!” be cried. “You, Ronald Dever! I saw you distinctly. You were the man!” Dever spoke In a level and commanding voice. “Come! Let us walk still a little farther. .Neither you nor I can afford to invite public comment I hope to prove to you that you have been mistaken.” Startled, but Incredulous, Berresford accepted the suggestion. “What made you turn, like another Enoch Arden, and leave the place?” Dever asked. > “Because, being supplanted In my absence, I was another Enoch Arden!” came the reply, passionately spoken. “Listen. After you went abroad Elsie’s cousin came to live with her. They were o? the same height and general appearance, although when considered together they do not look alike. I fell in love with Isaura. She has been my wife for three years, and—a mighty sweet wife she is. Will you dine with us tonight, Berresford?” Berresford flushed and trembled like a girl. “It was she—not Elsie—that I saw with you?’ “Assuredly, as ypu might have discovered had you been less impulsive in your flight He mentioned their address. “We’ll expect you at 6.” “No, no; I must go at once to Elsie— If she will listen, if she will forgive me. But there may now be some other person, some other claim.” “There Isn’t any one but you. ' I don’t think there ever would or will be. But come to dinner at fl, as I said. Elsie is just now visiting at our home.” “What?” shouted Berresford. “Give me that card with your address—quick! HL cabby! Double fare if you make good time! Walt until fl, indeed. Well. I guess not!” Then he was being driven swiftly southward, and for him all the world —the gracious, sweet, delicious, springtime world—was full of the waving of lilac plumes, the prescient fragrance of lilac blossoms.

"HER DROOPING FAOE I OOULD NOT SEE DISTINOTLY."