Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 September 1912 — LOVE’S FURLOUGH PROVES A WINNER [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

LOVE’S FURLOUGH PROVES A WINNER

Proof That Dreams Sometimes Reach to the Reality.

By IZOLA FORRESTER.

“It's only to be absolutely sure.” Suzanne did not look at him as she 6poke. It was far too hazardous. But Don was taking it very calmly. He regarded her with unblinking eyes from his perch on the veranda rail. “But we stay engaged?” “Oh, yes,” Suzanne assented, cheerfully. “I don’t mind, do you? It’s only to —to test our feelings, Don. Don’t you understand? I’m going with the Janeways for a week, and you may stay here and fish or sail; do just what you like.” “So generous of you,” murmured Don. “Why not? I want you to be happy.” “Yes, you do? You know I can’t be happy without you.” “We don’t know for sure, yet.” Suzanne was very firm, but gentle. She felt sorry for Don, but when it came to a serious question like this, she felt it far better to put it to the test “It isn’t as if we were breaking the engagement, Don, dear. It's just a sort of furlough, don’t you see? We’ll keep it a secret and both be free to do as we please.

“Which means you’ll trot all over Tressac Island with Carl Janeway.” “You are at perfect liberty to do the same with any girl here.” “But that’s the ruh, Sue. You know I don’t give a rap about any other girl here, and you want a chance to try out Janeway.” Suzanne pursed her pretty lips reprovingly. “Sometimes you seem like a big, overgrown cub, Don; you do, really. Mr. Janeway is a perfect stranger to me —” “Blanche has been writing to you for a month to come and meet her brother. Don’t I know?” “Well —I’m going,” smiled Suzanne. “And you may do just what you please about it.” “May I?” Don asked grimly, with a swift safe glance at ber.” I’ll re-

mind you of that when you come back.” ' “Don’t bq too rash, or maybe I won’t come back.” “Ah, Sue, don’t say that?” But Suzanne merely laughed, and rose from the deep arm chair. She knew perfectly well how charming she was, and how she held Don Hamilton’s heart on her own pink palm. And the very surety had begun to bore her. It had been unfortunate, their falling in love so soon, at the beginning of the summer season, and now' at early fall, it seemed an old story. Blanche had succeeded in arousing her curiosity over her wonderful explorer brother. Don had never explored any unknown territory except h er own heart. She would go down to Tressac Island and see this celebrity, and without Don. And she went The w 7 hole island was owned by the Janeways. It lay like a beautiful green emerald far out in the lake. After the excitement and restless life at the seashore resort Suzanne found it folding a spell of enchantment about her, the peace and dreamy langor that hung over the entire place. It was the fifth day. She had written one letter to Don—one only. Was not love on a furlough? And not a word had she heard in reply. It was queer of Don to act that way. He had no perspective on life, she told herself. Carl Janeway was keen on perspectives. “We can never hold the reality in our grasp, try as we will,” he told “Do we not ever reach for the dream?” “I suppose we do,” Suzanne assented, faintly, but she remembered uneasily how tangible had been the realization of Don’s dream. She did not meet Janeway’s glance. They were Just landing after the daily sunset canoe trip. She watched him now, as he lifted the canoe as easily as an Indian guide. He was like an Indian, too, in his tall, lithe build, black hair, and odd, dark eyes that never seemed to close. Blanche had said he was interesting. Suzanne found him more than that. Vaguely, he fascinated her. She loved to sit in the canoe, gathering’water lilies on a lake that had turned* to gold and amethyst and ruby

red under the sunset splendor, list, ening to his tales of a world-wide quest. That was what he called it, a quest after fortune. Blanche had taken pains to tell her he had found it. “When are you leaving Tressac, Gray Eyes,” he asked suddenly. “Saturday.” She waited while he hid the canoe under the trees. It was twilight now. A faint breeze stole over the lake, perfume laden. Dp at the lodge they were lighting the long Chinese lanterns around the porch. And suddenly, without warning, Janeway's arms closed about her. “But you will not go—not now. You know the same as I do that this is the end of the quest.”

Swiftly, recklessly, Suzanne’s palm struck out and cufTed the famous explorer’s nearest ear even while she evaded his lips. And then, picking up her skirt, she ran straight for the shelter of the lantern’s glow. “I’m going tomorrow, Blanche,” she exclaimed, finding her hostess alone there.

“Oh, so soon, dear; why? Here's a letter for you, anyway. From the shore, too!” Suzanne read it through once, twice. Every word sank deep into her conscience. It was from Don.

“I think you had better stay longer. I am going up to Canada with the Wheatons in their car. The day you left I took a wrong header in diving and struck my shoulder. Lucky it wasn’t the neck, eh? Have been laid up ever since. Head grazed a rock, too.”

“Blanche, I am going now, tonight. Don’s badly hurt. I’m sorry, but I must go.” “Don?”

Then Snzanne raised her head and for the first time publicly announced her engagement. Back there under the pines, when another man's arms had closed about her, she had found out what Don Hamilton's love meant to her.

“So you see I must go,” she added, hurriedly. “Aunt Isabel is there at the hotel, but he will want me. And —and—I don’t want him to try to go on this motor trip.” "But I thought you liked Carl, dear?” “Did you?” Snzanne laid her arms around the other girl's shoulders. “Blancjie, you know what funny people we women are, don't you? I didn’t know until tonight which one I cared for, but now I do, and I want to get back to Don just as soon as the boat will take me.”

“There’s a train at 8:18 and you can catch the ferry over in 15 minutes. Don’t talk, Sue, just rush. I know how you feel.”

Don Hamilton opened his eyes widely at the vision that stood by his hammock beside Aunt Isabel’s portly oneIt was Suzanne, a long motoring cloak thrown back, showing her still In her brown khaki suit. “Don’t hug him too hard, child.. He’s all bandaged,” protested Aunt Isabel, but Don did not mind the pain. He only heard her voice in his ear. (Copyright, 1512, by Associated Literary Press.)

“Well—I’m Going.”