The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1881-09-15

one in quiet neighborhooi. There
was large yard IN front, shaded by
grand old trees, from which the street
originally derived its name He found
the mother and child both at home,
and apparently sincere in the welcome
they gave him. itwas not the last time
he came, for what could be more
natural then that he should accept Mrs.
Dontlds kind. informal invitations tc
call. finding, as he did, her society
agreeable, and her house quiet,
pleasant place. away from the dust and
noise o. the CITY.
Ms. Donald was widow, her hus-
band having died two years before.
Though still young and retaining much
OF the delicate beauty she must have
had in her girlhood, James Forest felt
that some sorrow. OF an earlier date
than the death of her husband, must
have bro lght the sad look to her face
Fall came and James Forests much
wandering feet were still treading the
shaded streets of Philadelphia. and he
was at a lost to know why he STAYED
and why the '.restless, unsatisfied long.
ing" o, his heart was less strong than
it hal been a year ago.
1t WAS not long before he laid off his
afectations of sIouched hat AMI
bizarre necktie, and one day, surveying
himself in the glass, he soliloquized thus
with an energetic thrust of his right
hand into vacancy: .'Has it come to
this-that l, the hero Of hundred ad-
ventures, with SCARED body and mind,
should court an amorOus looking
glassP And all for what? All! little
Janet, is it the same with one as it was
with you? Am | as changeable as !
thought you? Why do | stay here?
Why don't L go back to nv old life
among the Indians? l aoHL go, but !
cannot now"
Mrs Donald soliloquy one morning,
''What can it mean? Am | foolish
enough to sit here listening for his foot
stepP What should L care whether he
comes again or notP Fifteen years ago
L used to listen Tor another's coming;
and now how will all tn s foolishness
end9 It's only a lew days before we
90 away for the next three months, and
when / come hack he Il be gone, and
then We'll both forget-and l want to
forget"
1t was not many davs after this that
James Forest turned by chance (or was
it intentionally?) from the crowded
thoroughiare into the quieter street that
led to Mrs. Donald's home. The child
espied him before he had reached the
gate and tripped down the walk to meet
him. Holding his hand they entered
the house, and she announced that
''Mr. James had come again" For
some time she monopolized the CONVEX
sation.
"We're goin' way Oft, Mr. James,"
she said, ''most million m les, /
guess; 50, maybe, you'll never see US
gain
He looked questioningly at Mrs.
Donald, and she tod him that she and
Jennie had planned to leave the city for
long visit among her husband $ rela-
tves in the West. 1t might have been
that James Forest would never have
spoken the thoughts that were in his
mind, and that two lives would have
been hopeleSslv sad, just missing the
joy so near them. yet of which they did
not dream; but Fate took the matter in
her own hands and child was her me-
dunn OF conlnu 1icat;on. What else
could have prompted Jennie to inter-
rlpt their convers tti0n with. 6 Mamma,
Mr. James hasn't got any home don't
yoa feel sorry for him? He says he
don't live anywhere. l wish he would
Mrs. Donald,' he said, abruptly.
''that is what l wanted to ask you.
For sixteen years my home has been
n5where-nowhere and am tired OF
it all now. What will your answer be?
DO you see the pity of the loneliness of
my lie? If have only fancied thatyou
do, then I'll go back to the plains and
forget it all--if I cam
MIR. James," she SAID quickly, fear
ing that feeling, which she kept in
subjection, would speak in spite of her
resolution. 81 wish this had not hap
pened. | wish | had gone yesterday,
| then both OF us would lave been spared
this. ii don KIN CIV how to ;ell you.
| have never spoken of it to anyone, but
| must tell Won now: fifteen wears ago
| or about that time the trst and only
o-e ever truly Ioveu went away-and
never came back; but as the ears pass
| think OF him more and more.
married my hus and when the loneli-
ness of nv lie was almost unbearab!e
to me; my friends were all dead, and
| Mr.. Donald was good and honorabI 9
man; it was the greatest sin of nv life
it was an injustice to him, for. al
though we were happy while he lived.
| could never orget the other one, and
[ never shall; so l shall always live as /
am now"
He was not man to waive oa de-
cision once made but he said, 'Isn't It
so with all of US? left little girl
| once that was more beautiful and dear
er to me tn IN any have been since then,
and a few years after, when [ came
| back, she was married, and we have
never met. cannot forget either but
| if that the way of the world we must
accept it as su;h.'
| She seemed to be musing and, look
ing up, said: ''ls it possible that in any
OF your wanderin IS you may have met
him. James Forestn' She did not see
him start or notice the sudden flush on
his face. He answered calmly, "Yes, l
used to hear of him years ago." "You
heard nothing ill of him. am sure"
she said. interrupting.
"He lived somewhere in the East,
think" he spoke deliberately and as il
weighing each word. He left home
in '49, and some time in 80 or 81 went
to Australia, and that was the last his
friends ever heard of him. Did he die
there?"
His name was among a long list OF
others killed or missing in mine dis
aster." she said, sadly, 81 never knew
he went to Australia"
"What if he should come back, this
James Forest?' he asked, "strange1
things than that have happened. Mrs.
Donald, if James Forest stood before
you to day, would you be glad to have
| found him?''
sOh, don't knowi / don't know.''
she said, pressing her hands to her face
| as n sudden namtieSS fear OF ioy came
over Ter. ''He might have forgotten
me-he might not care; and he would
find me so changed he would not know
me now, and-and-hec couldn't forgive
me-"
| He gently took her hands from ha1