Evening Star Newspaper, October 20, 1935, Page 85

» Magazine Section dow, the Juneberry tree was in bloom again. Dan Campion sat alone at his desk, wondering whether he would ever be able to take that post graduate course which might fit him for something a little more generous than this poky nook in Pilmer High School. It was enough for him — but there would have to be something more for Lois. There would have to be a change of some kind, for their marriage had been a farce. The Juneberry tree had told him that, every spring for five vears. Each spring it burst suddenly before his eyes, a fountain of remembrance. Five years ago — he was walking across a half-mile of field and woodland, from Pilmer to the Wilshire farm, and the countryside beneath a blue sky was translucently green with May. Lois was not expecting him until tomorrow —— Sunday. He had gone down to the city on Friday evening, and it had been his plan to remain there with hisc mother for two days, but after he had bought the ring for Lois that morning, so tirgent a need had come over him to see her again at once that he could not bear to wait another twenty-four hours. It had been in a wan November sunset that Lois Wilshire had promised to marry him. If Lois had been rather subdued on that occa- sion, rather less abandoned in her acceptance of him than he might have wished, he had quietly understood why. For her father, Harry Wilshire, had worked and worried too hard in thie effort to keep his farm, and in September a\stroke had left him almost helpless. If, during these past months, Lois’s dusky eyes had often seemed brooding and abstracted, that was understandable, too, for in spite of her constant vigilance over her father, there was no telling when the weary spirit of him might leave the stricken body. Now, after their half-year's engagement, Dan at last had the ring to give her, and he was excited by the boyish hope that it would banish that shadow which had of late deepened in her eyes. He came at last to the old briar-tangled rail fence. beyond which was a thicket of rosy scrub oak. white birch in delicate leaf, and blossoming Juneberry. Dan was on the point of climbing over the fence when two curiously vehement voices arrested him, For one, surely. was Lois's voice! His first impulse was to hurdle the fence and call out to her, but suddenly, in a small opening among the trees, he saw where the voices were coming from. And a split second afterwards the voices were not merely con- fused sounds but syllables so clear and sepa- rate that he would never forget them. “You know I love you, Gailord. I've never known anyone like you.” They were leaning toward each other, Gailord Morse and Lois, seated on the ground. Rigid as wood, Dan slipped back down behind the fence with its mantle of vine. In the years to come he was to wonder whether he stayed there peering and listening because he could go neither back- ward nor forward without the danger of being IMMEDIATEI.Y outside the classroom win- THIS WEEK caled Under Glass seen, or whether he stayed because he wanted to learn what it was only human to desire to learn. *“My darling!” Gailord Morse was saying. “You are so beautiful. I adore you!” Before Dan's frozen eyes Lois surrendered herself to Gailord’'s arms, and the brief glimpse he had of her face set up a sick trembling throughout his body. He wanted to run, but his limbs seemed all at once powerless. Breathing hard, he crouched against the fence, his eyves tightly closed, while he knew that those fevered embraces were con- tinuing in the thicket beyond him. For a while the fragmentary words that reached his ears were so soft that he had no need of trying not to hear them. Then suddenly he could not help but hear. “Come to the lodge with me tonight, darling,” Gailord had said swiftly. ‘“We will be alone — "’ Lois gave a quick, frightened cry. “No, no, Gail! You mustn’t . . . you must let me go now!"” Dan raised himself a bit. He could see the handsome blond head of Gailord Morse bent over Lois’s dark one. “If you really loved me,” Gailord was say- ing in a voice that sent the blood drumming in Dan'’s throat, ‘“‘nothing else would matter. It would be a beautiful memory for us always, Lois.” To tell her... Not to tell her... For five. tormented years he carried his wife’s secret A trizmg/e story with a twist by MARTHA OSTENSO Illustrations by Henry Raleigh She drew away from him, and her face was white, her eyes enormous with yearning pain. “I can't, Gail,” she implored. “We are for- getting Dan, aren’t we? I — " “Yes, of course.” Gailord’s mouth twisted in a dramatically bitter smile. ‘‘We must not forget him, who is to have you forever, while I have to trot off because I have no money on which to keep a wife. I understand, Lois."” *“Oh, but you don’t!” she cried. ‘I do love you. I'd marry you if you didn’t have a cent. You — you haven't asked me, Gailord!” “No.” His laugh was short, ironic. *“The old man has fixed it so I can't. Tomorrow I'm off for Paris. We may never meet again, my dear. I shall never forget you, but you, Lois, will think of me sometimes only as a fool who loved you desperately for two divine weeks." Two weeks! Then this had begun almost immediately after Gailord Morse had come to stay at his wealthy grandfather’s lodge on Opal Lake, a mile or so away. Everybody knew that Gailord was old Morse's sole heir; also that Gailord was something of an artist, and that the old man was determined that he should be a better one. Hence Gailord had spent several years studying abroad and was obliged to return to France now in order to keep on the right side of his grandfather's ledger. Lois was crying. Dan’s fists closed up into Dan came suddenly upon them./ “If you really loved me,” Gail was saying. “Nothing else would matter” h ./i" TEN ~r steel knots, and in the next instant he would have flung all consequences to the winds and leaped over the fence, but suddenly Gailord Morse got to his feet and drew Lois up to him. Immediately Dan’s wrath turned in upon himself. He would appear only ludicrous if he stood up now and confronted them. More, he could not bring himself to humiliate Lois in such a way — he loved her too deeply. “How can you talk so, Gailord?’’ Lois was pleading. “I've never cared for anyone — and I never will —as I do for you. I'll never forget you — never!” ’ He bent over her hands and kissed them, but his smile was patiently unbelieving. Then he raised his head with a look of stern renunciation. “No, my dear,” he said sadly, “it is Campion you care for. I'm resigned — "’ “Gail, don’t say that!” Her lovely eyes were lifted stormily to his. “Dan is good and fine. I'm fond of him. But I never knew until now what it is to bein love! And this has to be goodbye, Gail!" Suddenlyshethrew her arms about Gailord’s neck and sobbed against his shoulder. Gailord held her closely enough, but he looked over her head with an expression which was to the stony senses of Dan Campion utterly in- credible. It was one of lost interest. ; They began walking away into the open field, discreetly apart now, and presently Dan saw Gailord Morse raise his hand in a chival-