Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1888-02-18

They stood at the gate The front door
stood inviangly open, showing the broad
oaken staircase, and still beyond, the table
set for the evening meal.
i ''Not tonight, thank you" Mr.. Philbrick
shook his hand for parting, but did not seem
quite ready to so.
"Tea is all ready" urged Philip, "and am
quite alone
"Oh no, my train leaves" he made an ex-
cuse TO look at his watch, sin half an hour"
Sill he hesitated.
AT last he laid his hand gently on Philips
arm.
"You are young and have probably a long
life Of usefulness before you But a man
can never tell" Philip looked in surprise at
him "You may change your mind, or give
up your work; if you should want to, just let
me know, would like to buy you out and
run things on my plan"
"But you are not rich enough. You proba-
bly, know the valuation of the Breton Mills"
answered Philip, little proudly.
~ could pay you something and you
wouldn't drive too hard a bargain. You
would be glad, perhaps, to contribute in that
way"
Philip burst into hearty laugh; his hon
est old friend was losing his wits. Give up
his factory, and his own scheme that was his
only hope in life! But Mr.. Philbricli did not
smile He seemed actually serious and
awaiting an answer.
swell, will give you the first chance when
/ want TO SELF
The old gentlemans earnestness sobered
Philip in spite of himself He was sorry ho
had laughed. Perhaps he had been mocking
his own destiny. The philanthropist's pro.
posal began to affect him as a deaths head at
feast. He was afraid he could not forget
it, Did his friend know him better than he
knew himself Did he see elements Of weak
ness in his character that would be sure to
wreck his beautiful hopesl
Philip walked slowly up to his door. Once
he turned and looked after the bent but still
vigorous figure of the bad prophet No doubt
he was already planning how to revolutionize
the whole management of the mill.
II will never speak with him again." he
muttered.
Then he looked back at his house again. It
was in that very doorway, open as it was
now, that Bertha had stood and kissed her
hand to him the last time she had been at his
homo That was when his chief thoughts of
life were as wedding journey--that was be-
fore the first cloud had dimmed his sunlight
And now she had returned. She had shamed
HtI ldlutI MUSE ana neT nlOJnerS pure
memory, She had shamed him who had
been her lover since childhood, and all for a
man she did not love enough to stay with
him. Still he could not help that first
tumutuous throb of his heart, the unreason
ing wave of joy that had swept over him at
the very sight of her changed, tired face.
She had done her worst to spoil his life, TO
drive peace and happiness from his soul but
that pure, steady glow in his heart, ah it
was love yet
Philips heart was very full of bitterness,
the fruit of his love instead of peace. He
stopped midway to his door, and plucked
rose, slowly tore out its blushing petals and
let the summer breeze carry them away.
The great work for the poor he had com
menced would have made him the happiest
man in the world if she could have shared
his enthusiasm with him His was the dis
position even and sweet, just the one to get
the most contantment out of his life, but lone
illness was terrible to him
Perhaps it is better So" no said aloud, ns
he crushed the fragment of the flower in his
hand. No doubt he was light and weak, and
1t was only under the pressure of a great bur-
den that he could accomplish anything That
gave him intensity. And then Bertha might
uaVe weakened his purpose if he formed one,
not sympathzing with him, and it had not
been her wont to sympathize with him His
very devotion to her might have made him
waver, or for very happiness he might not
have thought of anything but his bride If
man has great work to do it is better to be
alone. Two souls never can have but a single
thought, and tho least friction might delay
his progress; the least Encouragement might
hinder his footsteps on the mountain bringing
glad tidings to the wretched.
All that Dpril had been sava1 him C,rron
had proved better friend TO tho people than
he thought, even when he deserted them, in
breaking in upon Philip Bretons idle dream
of love,
Perhaps it was from Berthas shame had
sprung all tho good that blessed thousand
hopeless lives
Philip shuddered as no went up the broad
stone steps to his silent house. 1t seemed in
famous to associate the thought Of shame
with tho woman whose beautiful, high bred
face he had looked into again today And
Bertha was in tho very village with him; the
great outside world had given her back safe.
He noed not tremble for her any more for |
her fathers arm protected her.
He looked across the fields, where he could |
see one gable of the house that held her, al |
most hidden by overshadowing trees Per- |
haps she was in her room this moment weep |
ing bitter tears for the sweet, rare life she |
had lost by her madness
He passed his hand over his eyes.
"Must sho suffer forever-for what she has |
repented of, and the streams of despair flow |
always through her heart, washed winter
than snow"
He walked into his homo, and through the
echoing hall and stood in the door of his din
ing room. There were sideboards and chairs
enough to provide for n party-the table gilt
tered with its massive plate, and glistened
with exquisite china, but only one seat was
nlncnd