Page 34

THE WISCONSIN MAGAZINE
The Disguised Cupid
                  GC. c.
   The long train rattled wildly past the
 last huddle of frame buildings, surged be-
 tween two lines of freight cars, and then
 with an agreeable decrease of clamor set-
 tled down for the run from New Hampton
 to Dubuque.
   Grant Aikens put his paper aside with
 a sigh of resignation realizing that a sur-
 vey of the level lands through which the
 train sped would be an open door to
 thoughts he had vowed to forget. He
 fought half-heartedly for a time against
 temptation to recall the past, and as it
 could not be repulsed, he soon gave free
 rein to his fancy. It was so familiar, that
 stretch of meadow with its jungles of
 swaying grass, broken here and there by
 a lazy little stream of dark water. He
 seemed to remember every inch of it, and
 found that he was instinctively looking
 ahead for old landmarks. Yet it was four
 years since he had seen them and each of
 the years had been full of color and new
 experience. Grant Aikens of today, the
 editor of the Western Magazine, was a dif-
 ferent man from the student at the old
 state university when he had taken his
 heart with him on a vacation and lost it
 in a quiet old meadow by a quiet old town.
 He was certainly a different man, more
 conspicuous in the world, more fearless,
 but he was not a happier man. Now the
 familiar landscape was keenly associated
 in his mind with the journeys to the home
 of Margaret Brown, who had stepped into
 his life and left a footprint that not even
 the rude scars of experience had been able
 to obliterate.
 A  pang stirred in Aiken's heart, so
 vividly did the girl's eyes come before him
 as he pondered. How well he remembered
 the warm, soft night and how the stars
 peeked in through the arbor while he was
 peading with Margaret Brown. He re-
 membered his own words so faltering and
 inadequate; and hers, so kind, and being
kind, n o very cruel. He had left her after
that night and gone back to his work with
a dull, aching sense of loss. Month by
month he had beaten down the thought
of what happiness might have been his
had she consented to be his wife, and yet,
in spite of all his resolution, it was with
him again, awakened to new life by a
glimpse of the familiar scene, and as keen.
as relentless as it had been four years be-
fore.
  The grinding of air brakes as the train
came to a stop at the station of Fredericks-
burg aroused him from his reverie, and
then, as the door swung open to admit a
group of passengers, he saw the girl of
his dreams.
  It was the work of an instant to shift
his valise from the seat beside him to the
floor and then he rose to meet her. "This
is an unexpected pleasure," he managed
to say with conventional politeness.
  "I have been making a visit in Fred-
ericksburg," answered the girl. "My sis-
ter has been sick and I came to take care
of the children until she recovered."
  "Are you stil Riving at The Pines?"
he asked.
  "Yes. We love the old place and the
old town. And you? I have been hear-
ing great things of you. Your last book
was just great," she continued, with girlish
enthusiasm. "Where are you going now?"
"To Chicago. The president of our maga-
zine company lives there, and I'm going
to have a farewell consultation with him.
rpo tell you a strict secret, I expect to leave
for the Isthmus of Panama next week. An
uncle there has told me there is an excel-
lent opening for a new publication, so I
have decided to try my luck."
  The rasping tones of the brakeman in-
terrupted Aikens, and again the little line
of passengers juggled into the car. A
stout woman, breathing laboriously, and
towing a small boy by the hand, waddled
down the aisle and sank into a seat in
front of Aikens and the girl. The small
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