Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 21, Number 60, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 April 1900 — AT THE CHURCH DOOR [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AT THE CHURCH DOOR

AERY young woman, in this wonderful age, has a “call” to be a genius in some special direction, but Dorothy Lake was' 1 an oddity. She was in no popular sense a fin do siecle girl, and her father, an oldfashioned man, without any soulful aspirations, had been heard , to thank God for it.

His little laughing Dorothy quite satisfied his private ideal of what a girl should be, although she was a perpetual thorn in the side of his only sister, president of several dubs, and an earnest advocate of woman’s rights. "But so am L, auntie," Dorothy had argued, from the stronghold of her father's knee. “I believe in woman's rights

as much as you do, only we differ about what these rights are." “Will you explain your platform, my dear?” her aunt asked, grimly. And Dorothy had laughed, and finally averred that, in her opinion, a woman’s right's consisted in having all men honor and protect her, and one especial man love and take care of her. Undoubtedly, Dorothy was an oddity, but several men of younger years than her father were not altogether displeased with the out-of-date characteristics of this winsome maid. One in particular, viewed her with eyes of distinct approval, and Dorothy’s rosy cheek grew rosier still whenever Jack Eustis, junior partner in her father's firm, came near. For Jack and Dorothy this dusty old world became a glorified romance; blessed by the dew and the sun, the , rosy bud of passion slowly unfolded its perfumed leaves, until in perfect and wonderful bloom the rich rose of love stood waiting to be gathered. Then some untoward fate turned Jack’s eyes in the direction of a sparkling debutante, whose brunette beauty glowed like a rich ruby, in contrast with the cool, pure turquoise charms of his own little lady love. Dorothy watched his undisguised masculine admiration, and her feminine soul grew bitter within her. “How handsome Miss Hayden is,” she remarked, with assumed nonchalance, fob lowing the direction of his gaze. And Jack, not having attained the wisdom of angels, warmly agreed. “Quite the prettiest girl in the room,” pursued Dorothy, smoothing her gloves with assiduous care. Jack cheerfully assented. And then Dorothy waltzed away with a new partner, and, try as he might, Jack failed to catch a single glance over that partner’s shoulder from the blue eyes that meant his heaven. He took refuge in sulky flight, and Dorothy, having laughed and danced the evening through, spent the remainder of the night in tears, not of repentance, but of jealous wrath and pain. The nightfall found her carefully dressed and willing to be sued into a forgiving frame of mind. But Jack, the outraged and indignant, had not yet reached the melting mood; he waited for a word of apology and recall, and when, after what seemed to Dorothy unpardon-

able delay, he finally sent in his card, Miss Lake was “not at home.” Lent gave excuse to one aching heart for complete withdrawal from distasteful gayety, and never was a “miserable sinner” sensible of greater misery than when lovely Dorothy Lake besought mercy in the church litany. “Jack Eustis went home last night,” announced Judge-Lake, his eyes on his buttered toast. Palm Sunday morning. “Got a telegram at 4 o’clock that his mother was dying.” How small and pitiful now seemed the quarrel that had parted them. Being a proud woman, she could not stretch out a beseeching hand to her lost lover. For her there was nothing save the timehonored sorrow of silence. Little Dorothy, fair as a violet in her Easter array of lilac crepe and snowdrops, knelt in the church where the air was heavy with the fragrance of lilies, and prayed for that “peace" which the world cannot give.” “And, O God, don’t' let his mother die,” she kept repeating with the persistency of a child, but not even to God was this shy, proud nature willing to formulate in words the prayer that shook her soul to its center. She lifted her head to find the church almost deserted. Some one, pale and repentant, stood at the church door. The meeting was as solemn as the place, and broken words of love and sorrow were breathed on either side. And only the birds on the belfry twittered above them and the green ivy peeped through the open windows- to share their joy. A few weeks later, at their marriage —for Jack'would listen to no delay—an incident occurred irregular and unheard of in wedding annaLs. The bridal party was shocked, but the bride only smiled, when the bridegroom, cofitrary to all preled her unsaluted from the altar, but bent down and kissed her at' the church door.