Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1884-12-13
and he loathed himself for the sin he would

conscious and composed as some young saint,
her grave brow serious and calm. her delicate
hands folded. almost as if for prayer. Had Mr..
Lamp come very near making mistake?
Does man live who can battle with tempta-
ton and overcome it. and then abandon the
field without further daliance with evil Is 1t
that we like to parade our power and make
show OF our strength?
wv nat little creature you are?" said Edward
Lamb. " How tall defnitely3 Stand up and
let me see"
He put out his hand as II to raise her from the
chair, but drew back short of her finger tips.
For his life he dared not now presume by 30
much as that slight touch. She stood up rs
simply as q child.
What was it that Orlando said about his
iady's stature?"
Just as high as my heart'--she barely
Dreathed the words. yet with exquisite tender
ness. tnclining her head with a movement I'M
speakably sweet and shy, until her cheek bent
Just above his throbbng heart, yet quite apart
from him.
But before her hair was stirred by the sigh
from his dropping lips, she sprang back like Il
creature at bay. her brow knit in a 1rown her
eyes blazing Indignation and reproach.
'How dare you!' she cried What pitiful
pretext! How ingenious! How full of cour-
agei"
What wonder that the fair Irishman blushed
iornls own poor ruse to bring her near him for
moment Was this acting? Had she only
affected just now to discover his motive? Was
his ardor answered by wild rapture in her own
uhdsciplined heart? Or was she like some fair
saint. far above the comprehension of earthly
passions? Could she have used ignorantly the
dangerous phraseology of evil, as child
might play unwittingy with engines of de-
struction-each innocently vain of its fanced
knowledge?
Come I'M" Miss soulsby's sweet voice fol-
lowed knock at the door
MI. Lambs associate came into the ROOM
fn1n ,p1,u fhnt lin, tC
now. and party is starting out. You have
not moment to spare. No one knows how long
we may be shut in here, once the spring thaws
set i'm
And so. before the curious scrutiny of this
observer, they closed the day and babe each
other but formal adieu.
SCENE II.
Mr.. Edward Lamb brought to its close let
ter, sitting in the reading room OF a hotel in the
city at the Western seagate. Sundry Influences
mad delayed its completion he had but just
come to the end of his transcOntinental trip; a
certain sense of freedom and citation was still
new enough to intoXcate him. heart and brain;
he could not put out of his mind his sensation.
when. crossing the bay from the train. he first
caught sight of the city looming ahead like
some mighty monster in bronze And an &C.
Quaintance he had made had restrained him for
a time.
He was but just putting pen to paper when
he was greeted BY fellow journalist, who
presently introduced Mir. Lamb to man sit
ting near; man whose name stands historic
IN the records of the state, whose position and
great wealth might have commanded the
younger mans attention. Beyond these his
interest had been won by the mellow wisdom
and gentle shrewdness of this quiet. kindly
potentate, who. as per the Pacific journalists
dictum, "Owned half a county,
Even now. despite the vital interest of the
lines he was writing. Mr. Lamb found his mind
and his eyes straying toward his neghbOr.
The fine, small head. venerable with it's scant.
white hair and flowing gray beard, was in
relief against the wall, that threw up all its
wholesome freshness and calm benevOlence.
Mr. Lamb found sort of fascination in this
contemplation, and divided his attention
pretty equally between the gentleman and the
letter.
As he folded the sheet he lifted his eyes to-
ward the general staircase; coming down from
the floor above was the woman he was address,
ing.
Self-possessed and easily poised, she came
toward him with the old free step and the old
impenetrable challenge on brow and lip-a little
warmer Of tint. little brighter Of eye than
when they parted. 1t was only when she had
come very close to him that he noted the ex-
ceeding richness Of her attire, worn with the
same careless grace as the old-time flannel.
''She does become fine raiment!" his thought
exulted. land yet she would not seem endin.an-
chez in cloth of gold"
She paused beside his chair. and looked
straight into his kindling, deep blue eyes with
her own unwavering gaze.
''TO think meet You here" he said: II was
sending you letter to Ell Paraiso-see! Take
tread it now! Incoherent as it is, it will
speak as my lips cannot"
He put the paper into her reluctant hand
Il would better not read it, 1 think" she
said gently; let me explain first"
Read" he said. almost fercely, and she read
slowly down the page:
1t was year since have heard one word Of you
the letter ran. with that abrupt beginning which
signifies absolute absorption) when 1edyard writ
ing, mentioned casually that In passing through Ell
Paraso he had met you there. The next day
started west again. am here, but dare not go
farther until send In advance my explanation
not an excuse mind-rOr what seemed cruel and
cOwardly retreat when we parted out yOnder-you
remember the bleak and hopeless day. The fight
fought that afternoon has disabled me ever since:
but also 1t has strengthened me. Can you under
it meant to have you there before my eyes, within
reach Of my arms, and to leave you. To KNOW your
sordid surroundings, to hear Of your prvatons, to
see you beating your wings against your prison
bars, ana to know that the pleasures and luxurles
would have heaped upon you ] must render In
unwilling UNIV lin TT tribute to woman anhorred
lSnew-that 1 had a wife. 1 married her in
London when l was just OF age. She was
her else; but her coarse and vulgar ma
her ana came over 10 New York. She was nestled
in luxury and you We're In actual want. Now you
understand the temptation / battltd with out
yonder. had wild dream OF carrying you away
with me. How you would have reigned a little
queen in the bright and careless set knew! just
as that wonderful adaptabllity viii make you now
the most finished and gracious OF grdndeS DANES
had letter from her In my hand that day, and
burned it in your cedar fire when thought to do
you that wrong. But the look on your face grove
back my words, thank God! and can offer you
now gutless future, for the woman who was my
wife is dead am following this letter tomorrow
Faithfully yours, EDWARD LAMB
She had grown very pale. She looked up with
a gasp. one hand on her heart. Before Mr.
Lamb could speak, could touch her, the gray
haired man he had been watching had come to
her side.
What Is 1t, Madelon?"
No voice of youth ever held half the tender
ness Of that old mans tone.
She made brave attempt to smile in reassur-
ance.
1T was foolish--I am little nervous to-day,
perhaps-and-Mr. Lamb has given me. in this
letter. Ill news of an old friend. will 60 away
and rest a little from the shock. But first let
me Introduce What, Mr.. Lamb2 Have you
already met-my busband3"-San Francisco
ArgonG,a. April 26.
SSoS Er. EEhrs ZEE SIS,
60 f. kRf { IL ssss