Pembroke Academy - Academian Yearbook (Pembroke, NH)

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THE AcAoE,MgL4.-N1-gg ,,,-V, F O R G I V E M E Ella Severance Spring had come at last. The sun beat down onto the fields with a warmth that assured the world that winter had entirely gone. The trees were beginning to bud and the grass, in places, was a refreshing green. Louise, however, was hardly a- ware of the sun or the trees or the spring. She was aware of only one thingy-her deep regret of the past. The train, speeding on and on through fields and cities, was car- rying Louise home. She had not been home since that day, nearly five years before, when she had left home in anger--anger born from mistrust and dislike, anger which gave birth to a deep and lasting hatred. As she sat by the window, gazing unseeingly into the spring morning she was reliving again and again scenes in her childhood which she had tried to forget. She knew, of course, that she could not forget them until she had reached her father and he had forgiven her. She had no doubt that he would for- give herg she remembered, now, that he always had when she was a child. So now she was going to him. She knew just how she would open the door, rush in, and impetuously run into his arms. She could make amends for all that had ,happened. She was certain that if she could Just see him and talk to him, everys thing would be all right. Of course, there had been that letter. Two weeks before, Louise had written to her father, telling him how her feelings had changed and saying that she was coming home She had received no answer. But then, she remembered how slow the mail delivery was way back in the country. He probably hadn't had a chance to answer. She was sure that her hatred of him hadn't been shared by him. He might have moved but, no, she knew he would rather die in that home than live 8.11959-'h6T6 else. No, he hadn't moved. Perhaps he was ill--but surely I sbmeone would have answered the letter. Although Louise tried not to think of the past, her mind return- ed once more to tracing the history of her life during the sixteen years she had lived with her father. As far back as she could remem- ber, she hadn't loved her father. She hadn't actually hated him, then, but she had never cared much for him. He had had such crazy ideas- or so they had seemed to her child- ish mind. For instance, there was the time she had wanted him to make over his work shop into a play house for her. He seldom used it, and he could have kept his tools in the barn. But he had refused. He had been kind, she had to admit, but, never- theless, he had refused. Her toth- er told her it was because his great great grandfathers had used it for a work shop 'hundreds of years ago, and it was like a legend in his family. Louise had been only five, and it seemed like a very poor excuse to her. Surely, he couldn't want his old work shop as badly as she wanted a play house and she knew he wou1dn't use it nearly as much. Then there were those nights af- ter she had started to school, that she wanted to go to one of the neighbor's houses and play with their little girl, but her father had always refused. What was worse, he had set her to work in the garden or hay field during the summer. She hadn't had to work hard, but she couldn't be playing. Her moth- er said he cculdn't get anyone to help him, and every bit Louise could do helped a great deal. Her mother had told her, too, that neither she nor Louise's father wanted Louise playing at the neigh- bor's because their little girl