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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, July 23, 1912, Image 13

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1912-07-23/ed-1/seq-13/

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ANONYMOUS,
David Rayburn, having taken
his dinner, bought some maga
zines and went to his bachelor
apartment to spend the lonely
evening as best he could.
It was now two years since he
had come to Bresford and "hung
out his shingle." They had been
good years from the world's
viewpoint. - But David Rayburn
knew his life was a failure from
the standpoint of happiness. His
memory held the bewitching face
of pretty Edith Percival. All of a
sudden she had told him they
could never marry. He had left
the town and wandered about the
world for six months, then pulled
himself together with an effort
and settled in Bresford.
This evening orie of the short
stories proved especially interest
ing. H6 marveled as he read it
what a true life it pictured. It was
in the form of a monologue.
"Broken hearts are much over
rated," said" the tale. "I am -not so
miserable. I ejijoy my-'wa'fks, my
rides, my visits. And yet I'know
that it is only this for me until I
die. Still I don't want to die, be
cause I enjoy living even with a
broken heart."
The "vein of cheerful misery
continued and Rayburn wondered
as he read. Before he had'finished
it he turned over to'seejthe name
whiclrwas signed at the end.
"EdithtPercival."
For a time he was unable to
move or take his eyes from the
name. Yes, he knew she had
written stories. Could it be hers?
true feelings, and did those feel
ings concern him?
Animportant case on the court
docket was continued next day
because "Mr. Rayburn had been
called out of the city on a very im
portant matter."
When the young attorney
alighted from the train in the well
IcnQWn old station his heart was
beating hard. He tried to prepare
himself for the. worst. He told
himself he had probably come on
a fool's errand.
When he arrived at the top of
the hill where the big two-story
brick house stood back in the yard
full of trees he saw no sign of life.
He walked determinedly up the
path and knocked at the door.
After a seemingly interminable
period it was opened and Edith
Percival stood before hima vision
of loveliness in her pink lawn
dress. At sight of him she drew
in her breath sharply. Then her
lips parted in a glad smile, she
swayed and threw out her arms
impulsively.
Love needs no words to be un
derstood. "If it hadn't been for that story
of yours, darling, I might never
have known," he said when they
were seated in the darkened par
lor "But I didn't write a story," she
said, wondering.
He told her about it then, and
as he gathered her hungrily to
him he said fervently:
"May God bless her, whoever
she is that wrote it." And the
beautiful girl at his side purred
!And if it was, did it reflect, her I her warm acqukscence,
MNafi-iEfriir (fcfoj-s. .,, Lv-' .j- -V- J
MttMMMAaHMflttattflMjBaHHHBHHHHH

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