Crawfordsville High School - Athenian Yearbook (Crawfordsville, IN)

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The ATHENHAN Page, Ten , f the Stradivarius glistened dully in the light of the burning fire. Looking at it, Ionathan felt again the touch of its satin wood under his chin, He closed his eyes in pain, memories crowding into his mind . . . Again jonathan stood on the stage of the huge concert hall. A hush came over the house. The crowd waited silently for him to play. He raised his eyes to meet those of Stephanie, his wife, seated in the box to his right. Catching her slow smile, he placed the violin to his shoulder. He drew his bow across the strings. Ethereal music filled the crowded hall. He was master of these people and their emotions. At will, he could bring tears to their eyes or a smile to their lips. This was Stephanieis and his first wedding anniversary and as he played, his music was an outpouring of his joy for their life together. These thoughts were in his mind as he played, and when he had finished, the audience sat silent . . . tears in the eyes of some . . . hope in the hearts of others. There was a hush over the hall before the silence was shattered by wild applause. jonathan stood amid their cheers . . . his heart filled with happiness and mingled emotions, and accepted their acclaim. As he and Stephanie rode home, jonathan thought he had never been so happy. Success was his. He had everything he had ever wanted . . . happiness with Stephanie, success in his career, and all the money he could ever need. Abruptly, breaking sharply into his thoughts, came the cry of the coachman as he jerked at the reins of the horses to stop the carriage. The fright-maddened horses, startled by a wind-blown bit of paper had shied suddenly into the direct path of a lumbering coal wagon. Amid splintering wood and the frightened screams of the horses, jonathan saw Stephanie's life snuffed out. Horrified by his loss, he scarcely felt his own pain as the wooden frame of the carriage crashed against him. Jonathan lay in the hospital for several days without regaining consciousness. When he did so, it was with a feeling of desolation. He could not understand where he was or what had happened. Abruptly he remembered-Stephanie . . . the accident! She was dead, he knew that, but his mind recoiled from the thought. What would life be for him without Stephanie . . . jonathan roused from his revery as the whistling wind swept down the chimney making a mournful sound in the quiet room. He passed his trembling hand over his eyes as though to brush the painful memories away. His voice echoed loudly in the empty room as he cried brokenly, Stephanie, come back! The door of the room opened, as he spoke, and the butler entered. Did you call, Sirfw he asked. jonathan whirled toward the door at the sound of the butler's voice. Without meeting his eyes, jonathan spoke. No, Lyons, you were mistaken. I-I did not callf' He watched until Lyons had left the room and closed the door behind him. He leaned back into his chair again, staring into the fire and thinking. A blown bit of paper, he mused, and I lost everything. He heard again the words of the doctor who had treated him after the accident, Your hand will be only a little stiff. Outside of that, you are going to be perfectly well. Jonathan's face twisted into a bitter smile. The doctor had little known what those words had meant to jonathan. Only a LITTLE stiff! lust enoughrto keep him from ever playing his violin again. He flexed his hand now, and looked at the one stiff finger which still would not bend properly. He remembered his long convalescence in the hospital -the bitter vengeance he had sworn for his bereavement. He thought of his return home-

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The ATHENJIAN . The Eleventh Hour MERILYN STILWELL It was snowing and soft bits of the snow fell against the window panes with pussycat stillness. Inside, the room was warm, lit only by a blazing wood fire in the hearth. The soft firelight cast flickering shadows over the room, leaving in the corners pools of untouched darkness. jonathan Amherst sat reading before the crackling fire. The magic flickering flames cast a rosy glow over his pallid face, giving him an almost healthy loo . He was an old man, nearly eighty, and stricken as he was with the illnesses of old age, he knew he had not long to live. Now, as he felt the warmth of the fire steal over him, he leaned back in the chair, his book sliding unnoticed to the thick carpet. An elaborate crystal chandalier, heavy with prisms, caught the fire's light and sparkled. Jonathan's glance flickered toward it and as he caught its brilliancy, he thought fleetingly of the time when its beauty not been his to enjoy. had He was thinking of many things as he sat musing and staring into the fire. He remembered this house standing now as it had when he was a boy. Snatches of his life paraded through his thoughts with vivid clearness . . . his life, as a boy, in this house, his Erst love, his disillusionments in life. He remembered . . . past very jonathan stood at the ed e of a ballroom floor watching the dancers. The swirling skirts of the women made a pleasant blur of color before his eyes. As he looked out over the crowd of dancers, a girl in a white sequin-covered dress cau ht his attention. Unable to help himself, he stared at her. What was there about this girl that so strangely attracted him. He had never seen her before. He was certain of that-and yet somehow he seemed to know her. Fascinated, he continued to watch her. Suddenly the tempo of the waltz changed, and the girl was lost to jonathan's view. It was rude to have stared at her so . . . he turned away. Several times during the evening, he caught himself comparing the girl with others that he saw. None was her e ual. Later in the evening, jonathan caught the gleam of the sequins again as the girl and her partner danced past him. With no will of his own, jonathan moved toward the girl. La ing his hand upon her partner's shoulder, jonathan muttered a few words to the man, who turned away. For a few moments neither jonathan nor the girl spoke. Then she smiled and said, I am Stephanie Hollins. A log snapped in the fire. Jonathan started. His hand clenched on the arm of the chair as if in pain. He muttered hoarsely, Stephanie, my darling! Then, startled at the sound of his voice echoing in the empty room, he slowly sank back into his chair with a weary sigh. The moments swirled by in the French clock on the mantel as jonathan sat slumped broad expanse above the marble mantel, where Beneath a smoothly braided crown of silver-gold in his chair. He looked up slowly to the hung an enormous portrait of a young girl. hair, cool green eyes looked down on him. Her lips smiled at him and he whispered again, with a sob in his voice, Stephanie! After a moment, he turned his head, directly to a mahogany cabinet standing cabinet jonathan saw an old violin lying his glance sweeping the room. His eyes went in one corner. Through the glass front of the on a velvet cushion. The shining dark wood of Page Nine

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' rwssgarw Ti... ATHENTAN the haunting memories it had brought him. Through his mind trooped the days in which his finances had dwindled leaving him penniless and forcing him to sell his lifelong home. Again he stood and watched his home taken over by strangers. He had no place to go. All of his friends seemed to have deserted him. True, he was still jonathan Amherst-but in name only. He had changed from the happy young man he had been before the accident, into a silent, bitter, strangely older man. He repelled the advances of his former friends. in their every action, he fancied he saw pity-and jonathan was afraid of pity. What could it bring him but a recurrence of painful memories, Thus he lost contact with his friends. He started anew. Affer a long search for work, jonathan finally found a position in the coal mines. The pay was small and he had barely enough to live on. Many times he was hungry, always he was tired. He worked doggedly, day after day. Scarcely buying even the necessities of life, he managed to save a tidy amount of money each week. He was ruthless in'his dealings at the mine. He did not care whom he hurt. Anyone who stood in his path must move. It was never jonathan who gave way. Ruthless and cruel as he had grown, he had perfect control of his emotions. He tried to stifle the softer emotions of laughter and gaiety in himself, and permitted only hatred to grow steadily within him. He had no close friends and his few acquaintances knew him for a harsh and bitter man. The time moved on. Ionathan's blonde hair had long since whitened but had it not been for the harsh lines in which his face was set, he would still have been a handsome man. It was thirty years since he had begun working in the mines. Years of saving mone , scheming to undermine those higher than himself. He had worked his way up until now llie was part owner of the mines. Part owner of the mines-the thought gave Jonathan a satisfied feeling. He was a very wealthy man now, and soon, if his plans to buy out the other owners of the mine were successful, he would be making millions of dollars. The thought warmed his heart. Relentlessly' he set out to ruin his partners. One by one he forced them out of the partnership, forced them to sell their shares to him. In his thirty-fifth year at the mines, jonathan became sole owner. A rich man, he now planned to buy back his old home. Changing fortunes made it possible for jonathan to buy the house from it owners and he set about having it repaired. Everything must be as it had been when he had lived in it. He remembered every detail clearly and he paid the builders well to recreate the house. Long they worked until jonathan was satisfied. The night that the builders left, jonathan had stood in the music room looking at his violin lying in the mahogany cabinet. He had taken it up and laid it to his shoulder, but his twisted hands had been able to wring only discordant melody from the instrument. The invincible Ionathan was shocked as he felt tears rolling down his wrinkled cheek. Tears running down his cheek! jonathan roused from his revery and felt his face wet. The firelight shone on an old man silently weeping. He raised his eyes again to the portrait above the mantelpiece and muttered, Stephanie, how wrong I've been! As he stared into the fire's depths, a live coal popped from it and lay glowing brightly on the marble floor. Looking at it, Ionathan saw a reflection of his wasted life. The coal, now burning brightly, soon would go out' and leave only ashes. Had it stayed in the fire it would still be glowing with flames and would be giving warmth and light. He saw that he had everything but happiness and love, which he now wanted more than anything else. But it was too late. Life had passed him by and now he was leaving it without anyone to care. Even as he sat there, the coal sent up a tiny smoke signal and died out. jonathan Amherst, slumped deep into his chair, sat staring into the huge crackling fire. Dancing flames, dancing flames . . . he closed his eyes. He was very tired. Page Eleven