The evening world. Newspaper, March 24, 1916, Page 21

heSpring La The Romance of Who Made a Strange Experiment. on ETNOPSIS OF PRECHDING CHAPTERS, A New York woman ows pred of home, of society and ef th 10 loves. her he tun mail | mble down cot ha up-State 8, calling hepwit “Rita Apie. the witnesses tie miracle of apringtim ing Tad to her ray of yel- I used Paul is jealous Va" Vorgen ant Ry verter knew the nther that 16 Bweet Mille peo: CHAPTER XV. r (Con ttoraed,) From Her Journal. INLY two days ago we had a ( winds, and extra blankets on at night—but now! There was a mist this morning that drifted up in soft, one of those shadowy illusion cur- tains David Belasco used to like, It ‘wae nearly 10 before the aun streamed through—and such a world as he Lilacs all tasselled in white and purple; apple buds showing faintly pink; tulips—whole regiments, red and gold—and leaves, leaves, leaves, overnight jike clapping bands for joy. And under foot more golden @andelions than Rockefeller has dol- Jars; and violets, whole purple lakes How can I? And how could I carry Seraphy’s un- Pleasant gossip with me? I couldn't even bear a grudge against Sweet- I felt like laughing aloud. to amie at people I met. I came around by the old Franklin house. A little silver-haired old lady the Jast of the Franklins! She smiled at me pleasantly and we talked a little—about the flowers Mostly. She told me the frosts had but her sweet peas were all saved Decause she had covered them with old carpet. I never realized how vital an in make, until I saw the anxiety in her wrinkled face, Twas genuinely thankful with her for tho safety of the sweet peas low forsythia to carry to see it in Central I 5 I wisb do had been a little curious bout me—or had asked me in. ‘The ‘erhaps it’s the name—I don't know, ut it looks old and lovely and com- fortable—as if it had great fire-places and deep-curtained windows and easy keep the dark out. As I was leaving Paul Richter came along. He seems to “come along’ so often on my rambles. Not @ true road, but a lovely narrow jeafy lane that joins the main road of e village. In a curve of it there is a tin with low bushes behind. We sat here @ while. I'm afraid I was very silly. . . . We laughed a great deal at first ‘hom. the poet. vimse ing to eye her askance, and she wonders scurry of snow and cold feathery layers toward the oun, like found! thousands on thousands, all unfurled of them—oh, 1 can't write it all! hills. ¢ hid was raking in tho garden, No doubt Mipped the perennials the other night, est the life of one's flowers may She gave me a great jouse has @ certain charm for me, chairs and big old-fashioned lamps to ‘We went down the road together. spring beside « big sun-warmed stone and talked a lot of nonsense—but I would not let him fitrt. He's versa. tlle and attractive and I'm—well, fonely—but I've never ineant to be serious. I'm done with that sort of thing forever—— And I'm not taking Heiney Van Vorden's advice. After a little I got to thinking of hat Seraphy had told me. It must ave told on my spirit—or showed in my face, * and most of us belong to two. Those The Evening World Daily Mag azine, Friday, March 2 | Can You Beat It? ULL ASK NR TOHN ANDO SETTLE This ARGUMENT Ss ows \ a New York Girl SuRE,H OWS ALL ABout FISH . | HIS FATHER Soup UMNBRELLAS it? I'll not be more useful there than in my other life—or here, After all,! that's what counts, I believe—one's use. To the world, I mean, Women seem to be of three kinds— who fertilize the earth in the end; those who give to the world the fruit of some great gift or special labor, and those who make the world—who Rive it life, T have no gift, no talent. And T) have not handed on the torch of Iife— so I shall be just earth, <A dust) woman! | But at least I shall break no man's | heart—nor take bis money while I) hate im, If the worst comes to the worst I might sell my hafr, It's a sort of curse, anyhow, © © © Larry used to love tt. LETIT Go AT THAT IFYou LIKE CHAPTER XVI. Loyalty and a Kiss 46 HAT Td Uke to know really is—are you always going to do these things?” The remark coming apropos of nothing in particular, Cynthia Field looked up inquirtngly at her companion, They hed not spoken for several minutes—indeed Cynthia's cheeks were etill pink with her exertion, She knelt on a tussock of grase— f little islet In a deceptive and allur- | ing sea of vivid water-pearled green, | She held a grimy little knife in her fingers and a basket partly filled | with watercress stood beside her, | ‘Thero was also something else in th picture—the figure of a carelessly dressed, red-haired young man, his eyes now with an absdrbed attention en Cynthia's face under the big sun ( OON'T CARE THEN LETS Go at ETS amfetoit think T understand,” | ARQuUT THE BIRDS HONE THE STeeer arnileds, "you ont mann the wader: ) Ure TALS AS Loup'} {1S NO PLACE To fifteen minutes and I'll be finished AS ILIKE ly! “Oh—only as @ symbo!. What I mean is, are you going to stay here forever and” dust Mrs. Stanford's parlors, and brew her tea, and take out of her clothes with gaso- and darn her table-cloths et w ack her head and hed. “You have a good memory—per- haps if you timed your calls differ- ently these domestic details wouldn nible you. tw n't make any difference, You'd joing something for her, And that's what I mean, As a care: are you satistyini “L hadn't Ing to find that entirety thought of my carcer,! Mrs, tanford has always been so kind—and there's nothing I've ever been, prepared for——what else could do?" “The answer that ts obvious, | my dear Cyn But {t really shouldn't be cessary for you to do (The New York Brening World.) 4, 1916 ta ine Co, By Maurice Ketten 1 DIDN Now AM 1 WASN'T. GO00 FoR Riaut 2 THE BRAIN JI SAID \ ms BRAIN WASN > GOOD For GOLD FISH S'S GQooo FOR THE BRAIN THEN You AGREE THAT (WAS RIGHT 2 PLEASE DON'T TALC So loud You Age WARING THE BIRDS IN THE PARC ("LL Go Home WHEN LAM Good AND READY WELL ALRIGHT. LETS OIG TRENCHES AND FIGHT (Tt OUT anything. When I see you digging for cress here and think what and x “hat was a squirrel,” said Cynthia where you ought to be—the watering ary ‘It's the little things,” she said Honey Hyslop, would catch him and hold him close for @ litle as though Places abroad—Nice, Monte Curlo— jn a minute, “just the hints, I can't he had stumbled on some pathetle and gowns by Paquin"-—~ help trying to put things together— secret. She made an amused grimace, end then there's what Rita said about = And in truth he had. For it was a “It doesn't sound attractive, and you." losing battle the little dressimake Monte Carlo sounds positively " "twhat did she say?” Heiney and a world that had hardene d, About the gowns, though— wheeled to her quickly. wt to her yesterday suddenly never seen a Paris gown, you“ sald you Were quite the ‘best- in pity over her “love Rut Rita Ashe hag told me of hearted, straightest thing ever.’ How and kissed him with reddened s seen, They must be did she know? Sometimes—I thinic ; you've known each other before.” found Paul Richter at her gats, Ashe. So you've got to " “And suppose we had. Come—T'll n found him lately. And she tells you about tell you something. We did know ght you the ‘Pippa’ you ; rns? ch other. We do know each other begin, putting the thin She looked up at him quickly, 4 that satisfy you?" 1 book into her hand, “Why, don't you like her? You've “Then why-why—" she began ank you,” sh id. never cared to meet — she ‘ou mustn't ‘question 1 you 1 alone to-day, “Van opped suddenly, her eyes growing mustn't doubt. You'll do good, Vorden's gone down to New. York to wide, “You don't mean these things And she is worth while, I've always fee his doctor. He seems to have im you must have ‘heard—you don't thought #0. Just now she’s come proved considerably.” believe these dreadful things people some bally cropper or other—you “It seems to me that any one would say of her?” women get these mental streaks-- improve here,” she sald, “What th he asked. that's made her turn hermit and hide “It's done 't Imost {mpossible. ‘ t yout 1 ” “Oh—thi she said with a little in the woods. Come! Don't look so It's made a difference even with you, yi are you thinking about?" he tremor in her voice, “texrble unjust scared, ‘There's nothing wrong, Like painting the lily.” he said With " things because she hasn't gossiped She's an all-right girl the ‘straight- his ardent eves on her, “L ‘was wondering if you knew with peopla about herset : an el relent: hig ardent eyos on. Sweethilis’ latest version of me"—I everything herself and told est over.’ And some day she'l felt myself flushing a little—“if—ift— what people are saying’—— And I tried to tell him as lightly as I could. “Sweethilis ig a bunch of fools— ignorant fools—alwa was,” he led. hank you—but don't abuse your mative heath, Sweethills is simply Missouri,’ but I think {t's not a after all—look a little Mart But he can't get away from the Bweethills view-polnt. He winced as it I had spoken of something emi- nently improper “Oh—that girl," he sald “but there's simply no son" —~ “It must be because I'm alone,” T said, more to myself than to him Tt was a cue for him. He covered my hands with both of his tmpetu- ously. “You needn't be," he said, his faco hastily, comparl- very closa to mine; “I--let me tell you--won't you listen—we could stop all this—walt”—- Tdidn't wait, At lis touch I sprang up and treed my hands “LT can't wait-not a minute,” I cried with pretended gayety. “I'm late now—Seraphy" Re- sides, 1 wasn't joking about He looked at me with a dull red in his face “Neither was 1," he said s i il we We were very. quiet our shed my door, [ put out my hand, ome to me seon and bring the play again, neighbor.” T emphasized the last word and ; he took the rebuke. “I come,” le said, “only let do that’ ke with gent emotion at surprived, Yes and distu 1 n't Want to make haveu fur any) I've tried to show bim it won't ny use. T'va about decided on my course After all, it's the only one. Tl stay here until my, money's one, Then when the ut ¢ fhe hesis are full of birds slip away as b came Oh, Vii have y back ¢ It's the only place 1 really know where I can be of any use Tl § pluce in one of shops and t th Lup ino} of ror Nouses and sit on the stoop summer evening when the sucrt siriis | and th and oliny, and Ml) drew @f Swee hills aad the woods and t arden and the winds and the starsand I'll ribbuns or pins by day, won't be much of a solution, will Because she's young and pretty und all alone—and hasn't enough money to a people. But I know—she told m There's nothing to make a mystery of, Only that she has no one-—and just a little to live on—and—and a great deal of sadness has beon in her life, And she wants the peace and quiet of Sweetht he she told you that herself, The ut the sadness in her life and “It seems like a place where cvery ene ought to be well and strong. Wit all the sun and the flowers and t sweet air—like a place too lovely for death to come to.’ “Oh, but death 18 lovely too! only completing the cycle, I know that anything could be love To live; to die-to go back to great nother; to live again In thi he waved his hand toward tho blos you everything. But Cynthia still looked disturbed “On, it wouldn't make any differ- ence with me-—what she was. I know. And she's my friend. But 1 was thinking’--her eyes rested on his doubtfully—“about y both belag here—it wasn't-it © 2"! ; “Not in the least. I'm not Rita's ‘follower,’ a4 I believe your Vessey person intimates, One of these days Richter’s yoing to Ill that chap.” soming garden" ‘kiss of lips or k studied his finger nails “I think—Paul loves her," said Cyn- of bee'—what difference?” meditative thia.in a low vote She shook her head, “She ley me aee trembled Cyn- | “Oh--Paul loves. everybody,” sald “I've felt that way sometimes but thia: “any one can sae the shadow of Van Vorden, there ia a death that is infin it, And how any « uld want any- ‘They had risen to go, and stood cruel leave behind @ loved hel; thing else but and co! close together under tle be oe that I was king of 1 fort her 1 these-—thesa people’—- grew by the stream. It was dim al- Bruce. Perhaps y 5 she stopped breathlessly, @ mist of ready with a tender dusk here undo t going to get wel unshed tears in eyes——"why, the trees and only the mellow after- 119 was silent a moment they're ¢ brought the glow of a mountain sunset down- “Perhaps,” he said pres word out with sudden furious - atream. He looked down at her a will be much happie phasis moment before he spoke rather odd her type Van Vorden laughed aloud “Cynthia,” he said, “you cara for “You know her of cour “Encore, Encore, pretty Cynthy. me about as much as you do for a A little,” he sald short Bat. y mustn't swear you know, paper of pins. And that's as it should ¥ the boy. It's golr , reall be. I'm—out of the running. Thut-- 1 yeartache for him.” dh, but Lcould--when T think, It's would you care—just once—if I kissed will be hetter for him—in the Porter Vessey—he's always so loath- you?" I've heard people say t some—le pats one on the cheek—or- " For some odd reason she could not ways refused any offer of or pinches one in the arm—or tries apeak. Her heart felt Mohelp. ‘There'll be a chance for to ‘salute’ one in a f-fatherly fashion, fled; her eyes full of un: m Now—for advantages, education Ugh She lifted her face to his asa child | “But not love, Cynthta loves hin, “Let me catch him patting oF might, and he stooped and Kissed her but how could she keap him? And f nehing,” said Van Vordea quickly. cheek reverently T couldn't take him to the city." ‘Oh, everybody forgives him—they — you're a nice little girl,” he said, He looked at her with startled eyes wouldn't dare d rwise, He's $0 “a nice little girl.” . Do you mean— You" populu, And they bellese whatever he let bim take her basket from: “ he says”—— her hand and they turned hone 1 ng to smile T believe," said Van Vorden mus- giient!y. Pee cated with naly, “Et understand your Politician “Cynthia could not have told r m the 's your Pink Lady have been quite put words we have been impos- Lady'—and spring is over ve regarding yours truly, ‘There's gible to and she was glad of the "You-you—but I tho he be: @ pretty little pot of tea brewed dusk tha id the tears that lay ea t I-we—you've n over And now Rita Ashe, You her eyelashes A © while.” can't be at susceptible to these vil Se Im two months,” she lage cont tynthia—why is ” Vv, fighting to keep the qu 8 You confess ving Rita Ashe-—but CHAPTER XVIL valna igh ata tae b 1 can net--I dare not flatter myself Against Heavy Odds. but for m ft is sentiment in my own case—or FHERE battle else why refuse so often to let me f was a mighty But you ' J} going on in the little green ie crind; “the |} house at the end of the where no, listen, please unless you wish arm's length you will tell an ‘ You'y battle went on of the The in one here upper chambers—where alittle pen aa te isto see them— mother fought gallantly for life reading—vou'rs nes 1 think’ at cruel odds; where somtimes, 4 ay from i : i n't, he sald} ioning, to her door came a Mitt nen hea the face, First tuing you forlorn, frightened child, to sob or maveenta ne re ; know you'll be wearing thick glasses, whisper her name and go unheede!, should tel sou, Mr. Iieht fut BG SrOwing 4 | musiacl PRS "She doesn't tear,” he would You wish Hy going buck where f you hear that robin calling its mate? Moura and then “some one,” Cynthia Myr y Would you like to hear mo give an Field perhaps, or Rita Ashe, or even — He leaned forward, a su cas imitation? I can do it capitally.” that stern neighbor of yesterday, old ness in his faci knew. It's your setting. um is to the diamonc without another word and left her. There was something both pathette "he cried; “it's ike awine and comical to her in the sudden uk of the gods, It's life lowered carriage of his confident re's room in it for every- young head thing, When my play's finished nh t isn't as if T had really done all Vil mee New York! And it that,” sie said half resentfully, won't be ow ‘ced Vn sorry TL wond though, mo to } wre-your Heiney Van Norden isn't eight -and neight your he needed it, [ wonder if ho's not ‘hunter at the gute, Rita-—listen, Let made more than one heart ache.” ime call you so this once 1 though eee eee 1 knew love before—oh, Ull be honest CHAPTER XVIML but 1 never even crossed the thresh ‘ old. Now," he selzed her hand sud- Conduct of a Gentleman. denly, “no, no~-not yet, Unless you 3 R wish, Oh, but you shall wish—sor HIE windows of Richter's 3 time, soon,” his voice trembled, “oh, living room were open wide girl—my girl with daffodil hair—til to the night teach you what love mea You're like ir white vestal—a neophyte Tt was a dark night, one tte But there—in the city we'll Of those velvety warm nights in early together Tay i ine that, in the mountains, precede housand formas of love of of rain and cold. There was was an ardent, hands neither moon nor star outside. Hil warm flushed face so « And Into the room and into Rich- ter's mood suddenly came Van Vor- The girl released her hand gravely, No doubt,” she said, 1 could @¢n freshly returned from New York. teach me much of ut 1 Hlad there been lights he must have #hall not listen, I must not. Oh, put them out of countenance by the I've let men make love to me bef radiance of his expression. But Itich- waa amusing for me—but not ter saw nelther his face nor for @ don't look hur moment him, muse me, Lin ‘Wake, dreamer," said his frien ven't been honest ond some unusual quality tn bis vole ing t inade the other turn to hi You've had good news?” he asked. vo travelled backlight,” sald ve fraid + Van Vorden, “hardly a symptom in caring for ar \ "ny grip.” broke off sudden! Itichter got up and paced the ficor end. "'Y 1 before he spoke. n Vord: ho “Vm. goin a jer OWay—to Burope, Will yuu tay. on and look after things—ihe grounds he ropeated it Jor. and Shine, Til be back in the autuma probably—but I've got to get away he nodded, She did not Nko # no, don't answer offhand, You've t ut hls face, She kot to stay h and we've been pals, had eared tall his Y ii do me all kinds of a favor by ' ire had 1 hiv you asked if It was going weil aroused by her, “I'm 6 with me—it's going like hell, I—I've ated Kot to His votce trembled, broke Married,” he sa ovishly, ming to hin stricken tnce Ry ‘Jove! You are hard hit. 1 why — but hat doesn’t w though, tt wouldn't do ‘Oh, but tt does,” sha st You knew'~sald Richter shar uensed—rather,” said Van Voi pped him Her ppnow, his “L haven't been presented to t! work Aden uniove y, but [ve always fancted she sion, turn you down, I've rather thc Then you've played ve she's bean keeping up an incog el with me You've bo. I right?" ; She's going away," gaid Richter Nothing. 1 ply; Darshly, aw though tat sufficed, “f H Mr | shouldn't care to stay on—for a 1 f v 6. IT-you think It over—what Td : ; sud. Um going out for a walk now.” inlenhon canted Ho lett the room abruptly and @ ey A sea hute later Heiney heard hie step H : Lg on the graveled walk, outside the ' ii Out of all jl. Contrary to custom the Ford house } only w i 1no light to-night, ‘The mys- c love 18 voice rose alluring quality of the night with ¢ on fi 1 close over it—hid it lke a {ush she said, “you must #0 jai) in its thick tangle of shrubbery nowt can't Tixten. ee ent color to ® thousand imagin- Ww yuidn't you know what a "The len, vital with life, might d Does it mean nothing to you ‘anytuing, any one In the deer w cinan's devotion 0 i t tree or shrub, 1 sit aside when it cumbers ~ ‘ay ne up, Paul fancied first ' ut » one wat in the porch, but tt would ® 1 y ern} A faint splash of gray f 1 instend Is lin tree was equally de- 1 I e 6 house with its “M " ‘ ed was empty, but 1. 1 n « sounded the old Y : « r within " k t slitenad owl And I J tra ey a re ming * Suddenly e turned on his heel the road and he went out into it, A | hoarsely '§ Did You Ever Hear of Any One Telegraphing With a Fan? A Woman of Mystery Causes Queer Complications That Way in Dead ans M: ock By Quiller-Couch, Next Week’s Complete Novel in The Evening World “DEAD MAN'S ROCK” is as famous in its own way Treasure Islard anda and (for the same reason) it has a charm ipping power that can never die. It is mighty well worth your reading—or re-reading. ' first he thought it was Seraphy Mas- sett, under the moonless sky, but « minute later the dark, Irregular shape grew recognizable and his pulses throbbed with the realization, | He had not known before why he |came, but be knew now. Ho started forward so that Rita Ashe or uit. “It's [-Richter,” he said a little suddenly *You--frightened me," she faltered, | “it's no dark-—T wasn’t expecting” She peered at him, a fort atirring in her, quality in hie voice, |perhapy the aumgontiv the night alarmed her faintly | “Twill you ¢ ne in T shall not let you stay long she began n6 indefinable his preaenc influence of Sho wondered why he had sought her. Was ha ashamed of lis ehild- ishness of fternoon? “T-won't come in, U's a night for outdoors, Walk with ime a little, won't you? [ want to tell you soime- thing” He tried to speak coolly, but it took all his self-control. The night was making {ts appeal to lim. All that was sensuous, emo- The fluid tional in him responded, poetry of his nature thrilled to its soft oppressive warmth, | But his words disarmed her. Sho | hesitated, then said, “I'm very tired— but Tl walk @ few steps.” 4 turned up the road inte the jowy night together, “LT wanted you to know—I'm going » Burope, rope!” she said; touch of nervousness, wonderful experienc then with a “It will bo a if always wanted to go-—T hope to nome day. | He awang round to her suddeniy, “And you Will not go alone? No after whut you said to-day, He will mo with you.” “Must sou speak of that? she Jeried. “Don't tec us speak of it, Let it stand closed forgot H ryot.” He bit his lips suddenly, | “Ir iw vest” ahe said qutetiy. | “Beat for him,” he said sivagel ‘beat you--for him, But what for about me? me?" “Tam not responsible for What have you done to you,” ahe answered gravely; “if 1 have tn a Way misled you—oh, FT tri not te In spite of herself her voice arombled, “You would not understand—you wanted to deceive yourself, Mr, Rich- ter—but for any share of mine, | am deeply regretful.” “No woman,” he cried, “has eve Played with me before--you let mi love you. You knew it—there’s no us denying--and now! I—l—why don’t you play the game—Rita, there's no part of 1 t worship you. In your own t know It—T could teach camo away with me—love’s the only life worth while—for both of us"-~— He caught her arm {mpetuously and sie whook herself free with dis- are insane,” strung. Tomuat tur opening up the subj id, “une k—your is useles#—L would be your friend, but it is tmpos- ible, Besides, you're really a very ing boy—if you realize what fre saying,” “® de he ered. “Then I'll play the man's part—you sha: like this—stop—U'll make you you shall—Do you think you come here and masquerade like and not pay?” he turned and would have passed haughtily Lut he stopped her h outstretched arm: “Lat ne by,” she said. But he had thrown restraint to the winds, All that was erot{c, bestiad in him beneath his superficial culture rose to ascendency. He pressed suddenly close to her. —love me 4 little—oh, but you he sald thickly, re she could move or speak ha dher in his arms, and held ‘t throw mea aside listen can this a one instant, 1 Her soft | unguarded, she brushed his forehead and tnaddened lin. Ms lips, buried in the strands, kissed them’ ‘Then she struck at lim furlously and eof his embrace ur ‘man's part?’ she T call ta cownrd's part on think yeu can ride roughshod “4 will <1 what !t Is to bea you're just a spoiled Some d nously, al turned and left waiting for 1 rr “Ain't there thought soma one ard somebody m talkin’ tos else? oT pectin’ ne on tr! at er suspiciously > fast. I should have waited for youl do very foollsh things—sometimes, Seraphy—T shall never be aw: sensible person” ou're the way the Lord made you Nice to look at nd to have folks love you, ‘They's enough senalble homely people runnin’ loose now'—— Seraphy was busy unlocking the door, She did not see the other's sudden weary pose—and the dari ness hid the thick mist of tears her eyes, CHAPTER XI: From Her Journal. THINK this is the last time 1 shal! write in my book, [ am coming to the end of things ‘The doctor tells us Mar- will not l.ve beyond to-morrow, 1 shall wait until—then, Then | must go. . 5 « I do not want to go away. I have been so happy these two months, And all's not right with my world. Th larry. If 1 did go back, I L afratd—th © inight not forgive me. I dare ni try And he wouldn't understand how ve cha ae : couldn't go back to him, T wish [ knew what it meant haps It's fear, Ter- At her gate she found Seraphy : To-day 1 fainted for the second time this week. Seraphy put mo to bed herself, My kind old Seraphy! Sho sat and watohed me the longest time. erhaps~ she doesn’t dream Im going away—but [ could feel her watching me. It's strange that f should be i— med so strong and looked so never been the fainting kind. « . Last night I had the strangest faney-—I though perhaps— it might bef wouder how—what nonsense [am writing—No, no, that will never be mine to know-— a Hed about one thing n writ- ing here, And I've known it all the time--in my heart. I love Larry. I hall love him als CHAPTER XX. A Revelation Is Made. 11 lttie dressmaker died at sunset the last there were two Watchers with he erapliy and the Spring Lady~and they brought the baby to her and lifted him for her to kiss. The frail, wasted face lighted with & mighty mother passion, itiful,” she whispered, and phy laid his warm little hand on coll cheek Ge she said faintly, “God—keep"— And suddenly smiled a brave confident little s:nile as of one is Qasured an answer, and closed who ner Little J touched hor mouth with his fligers Mamma happy" he sald It was two hours before this that Martha ad then, At frat they wandered, but) prow they that it hed strayed only back ti the years of her gitthood. were nces—fraginents of neoher nt at times fscon- t but, together, links in the tang chain of her unhappy life They told first--inere hints—of the girl, shy, inexperienced, wistful, un- worldly, snug in the sh of her little shabby home They told of her first xreat loneliness-th dead pare ents--the kindly friends—the new 1 to be faced alone. There had eeemed no way to help her—no way to escape the und shears untii— It was hera that she spoke of the afternoons in the mountains—long Sunda afternoons In the stillness of the wood, She had & Metholst, but som i Episcopal pray- took it with her to the d and reread Its ane. lresently needle strayed upon an erbc kK. She Hat first, to re yun Peauty of p wa no need, She was alone no longer: Ho had come upon her suddenly at first—so suddenly that like a timid fawn she bad started to run He had never spoken to her before but now he followed, and half-coax ing, half-jesting, had begged to luok at her by pocket—pu ways, Sho way silent, introspective for a momen k. “He had a book in his try. [ loved books al io read beautifully—it was Ike water to thirsting im I knew so little, ‘Then he sald he would be there next Sunday, & 1 many lovely things le would read ime.” sighed and smiled a little here had been many “next Sun- days.” Ali through the long dream ing summer they had met—to the very last day that the cricket sang and the trees were green, After tha be went away At first they had merely read to- wether and he had given ner « new id—brought to her famishing heart a feast. He taught by tu mountain — boundaries — had dro; way before her eyes, re vealing mighty worl! pletures, cities, rivers, dim half-forgetten countries the lexgenis 0: tures St « er heart to him asa flower y the sun—had told Lim her drea 1 ambittons. ian had ever talked to me be- fore--1 loved hi rved hia.” One afternoon he Kissed her, On drowsy ist Sunday » had n ve the “Lotus Eaters” to }away on 4 world-old dre t ire’s mule Uiat knows no morals nor stand ards. “LE loved him," shew 1 “bu remembere ‘ h r spoke ¢ rom It was Ju nelf tries he sp ! wer there ign ke 3 times L dreamed of ne wi there—L—-I--it was all like a ¢ ull afterward, Afterward when | was waiting [ saw it all clearly, It meant nothing » him-—just—what they call in books—a passing romance but with me it was—different.” # All ough the summer they had met unknown to any one—and th girl had clung to b h swth passionate fervor Then the end came. He went away —without speak And she had nothing--throug ec months wh bitterness had Ajled her up oan rt-breaking + nad ®, but had 1 ut he knew" He came once her money. She hu f i “I wasn't angry why should [ have been—he had not tried to deceive t was all myself, w 1 wa to ud L on here of vad meant to } ache she had wept breast L was afr always: take hilm from me every one should want him. father. He never troubled now=l've asked ¢ to open Richter's oyes—it tle son own boy with his own blue eyes" (To Le Continued.) he would it seemed to ma and his me—but Paul