Jasper County Democrat, Volume 19, Number 88, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 January 1917 — ENLIGHTENMENT [ARTICLE]

ENLIGHTENMENT

By EDNA SAWYER.

Barbara Wharton knew from the first that there was not the slightest excuse for it. The .second time she had met him she had known of his marriage, yet to the strangely reserved, cautious little girl there was something dangerously attractive in Jerome Towne’s keen eyes and graying temples. She yielded to his requests fbr her time whenever he could make an opportunity to visit the town, and treasured the notes, penned in a tiny, almost feminine hand, that reached her frequently, carefully guarding this, her first “affair,” from parents and neighbors. Time and again she pondered upon the emotion that would follow discovery of the intimacy. As one wholly unconcerned she pictured the resentful anger of the town. She, the pride of all the neighborhood, had stooped to a silly flirtatiqn with a man old enough to be her father —she, whose family flourished upon years of selfsatisfied esteem. ■ ■ . • . ’ . . ■ ; - • • V Because her mother was a mother there was no need to tell her. She knew of several moonlight strolls in which the city man bad joined her pretty • daughter. She recalled the dancing eyes and rapidly crimsoning cheeks w’hen, feigning need of information as to his rose bushes, Mr. Towne had on several occasions sought their home. Barbara had at first been hearty in her avowed admiration of the striking, well-groomed man. With secret annoyance her mother had noted the gradual discontinuance of the frank comments. A note, written the day before, fallen from its envelope, caught Mrs. Wharton’s eye as she rummaged in her sewing table, and she picked it up, disclosing the city man’s handwriting. She read the delicate lines twice through. “Dearest of Girls—l’m sorry; I can't see you today. But Tony will bring you this, and tomorrow I shall meet you at the station and take you up to the city with me for the day. We’ll see a matinee and have dinner at Colmer’s. Can you, will you manage it? Remember,- I shall be waiting. Hopefully; J. T.” Mrs. Wharton dropped her sewing, crumpled the little note in her lingers and started out, down the winding road. Somehow, Barbara seemed very old, very capable, all at once —whs there nothing to be done? One couldn’t order a twenty-two-year-old daughter to stay at home. And then Mr. Wharton’s- tall, Square frame came into view as he moved about his rose bushes, and mother caught her breath with a little gasp. She formed a plan. “You don’t mind if I go up to the city on the noon train, mother?" Barbara was wiping glasses after breakfast the next morning, and she

didn’t look up as she made the query. ‘Td like to match the ribbon for my dress, and—and —I want to go mother!” . “If you think best, dear,” Mrs. Wharton tried to catch Barbara’s eyes, and failed. Barbara went through into the dining room and returned, slowly. And her mother put up a quick hand and brushed something from her cheek. “Mother! Why, there’s something the matter 1 You’re sick!” Two strong arms whirled the little grayhaired woman to the light. “Mother, what is it.” “Nothing that I can’t tell you some other time, dear.” Mother sighed softly. “There’s no need worry—about me.” “You’ll tell me this minute.” “When you come back, dear—” Her mother hesitated an instant to gather courage. “I —I can’t spoil’ your trip. Go and have a good time —” “No, sir.” Barbara seated herself on the broad window ledge and braced her shoes with a determined stamp, and mother rejoiced inwardly. “No.t one inch do I stir unless you tell me.” Her mother stifled a nervous sob with small success and stammered with the words: “It’s daddy,” she whispered finally with a backward glance of terror lest the walls should hear. “Daddy I” Barbara’s bewilderment transfigured her face. “He’s —dearie, how can 1 make yott understand —such a little girl, lie's growing tired of me, Barbara. He’s — I—” “Mother!” The bewilderment had changed to reproach. “I think he is interested in somebody else, dear!” Mrs. Wharton finished bravely, with a rush. “It can’t be, mother! You’re mistaken. Why, not our daddy, mother.” “What does it mean, dear, when a man with a wife seeks the company of another woman Who is younger and prettier? What can it mean, except—that—’’the mother sought words to express her emotion, but her tears were mysteriously dried, and she spoke with telling seriousness. “You can’t understand, except the woman who sees the man who’s shared her life drifting from her, drawn by a thoughtless girl.” “Poor, dear mother! I’ll to daddy—you leave him to me! But now—-oh, mother! I want to go down to the station, for just one minute. Eve got to, dear." And Barbara was gone, hatless, breathless. Mr. Wharton smiled understandingty over his wife’s head when, five minutes later, Barbara rushed Into the kitchen with flaming cheeks and flung a trembling arm about each. Both •knew “the manner of Jerome Towne’s cllomiecal