The Press., 1890-08-21

Cnlng perhapS enduraDlo because per force incurable.
 As he stood at his horses head on this wet night drawing on his gloves John Pidgin appeared suddenly around the corner, driving in haste. He crossed over to the doctor.
 ''Juicy evening, sir, " said John, touch ing his hat, and without another word he laid little white note into the doc tors ungloved hand and was gone. Van Duyn did not go into the country that night. Twas only case of chronic rheumatism az gravated by the weather. The wealth CT and the rheumatism would be better tomorrow. He went back into the office, Katherine's little missive next his heart. He lighted the room deliberately, re- moved his heavy coat and sat down by the fire.
 "This is all happy delusion," he said; ''let it last awhile" But after little he took out Katherine's note. Could 1t be true, actually word from her who had been so long dead to him. He read it at last
 DR. VAN DUNN: believe am i'll. know am very lonely and desolate. Is there no panacea for such disorder, or is it perhaps fatal? Will you come to Fernwoods KATHERINh WEATHERLY.
 Later, as he came in out of the black, unfriendly night, out of the chill and sleet into the glow and warmth and bright ness of the little library at Fernwood, he seemed to leave behind him all the old cheerless life, with it's burden of longing and ':hope deferred" Katherine in her soft gray gown, with mass of deep red chrysanthemums in her belt, was more beautiful than ever. As John Van Duyn looked into that lovely face, so pure and pale, there was an expression there that he had never marked before. In the droop of the eyeids and the sweep of the lashes there was suggestion of melan- choly which moved him deeply. Had he been unkind? had he added aught to her burden of life? He tried to review the past year. Had he been unforgiving where he should have been friendly? all most vindictive at times when he should always have trusted her? Occupied thus in retrospection and self accusation he had no word to say. Long he stood gaz- ing into the open fire, self reproachful to be sure, but, ah, so happy and content to be with her again.
 "Ahw thought Katherine, "why can he not speak to me? Why can he not say something beyond mere Good evening? There is the weather at least. Is he so estranged that he cannot even inquire for my health, as any acquaint- ance would do?'
 Her pride rose within her. Why had she sent for him? Why did he not see the delcacy of her position and come to her rescue by word or look even? All at once it became extremely difficult, even absurd, for her to tell him that he had grown very dear to her; to tell him that she had mistaken her own heart; that there was nothing there but deepest re- gard for him-aye, love, strong and un- changing. It was impossible to tell him, as he stood there so absorbed in thought, so unresponsive, that she coulo never live without him. And then the cold thought came over her, "What if he cares for another that know not of, and I nave written him to come to me; that am lonely and desolateF'
 Pride and self respect became rampant.
 ''He shall not glory in my humiliation; he shall never know that care for him, !" and then, feeling as though she were dancing on the ruins of her own heart, she said lightly, with a pretty toss of her silver head, "Oh, doctor, that is grand pose! Nestor, or one of the Greek gods Hercules, perhaps-or an Amazon. Let me get my charcoals and do you in black and white. Head slightly more to the left, chin little up. Oh, doctor, you've spoiled it! Now you are Mephisto with the red light on your face. What is new at North Endr she hurried on. "John Pidgin heard from his home in the south today that 1t was middlin' measly and mumpy down there, with considerable chicken pops. It is not so bad at North End, hope"
 Not a word from the great dark man standing now with his back to the fire and looking down at her with an expres- an expression of surprise, of disapproval, she fancicd; of pity, perchance.
 "What is the news from the hospitalY' she hastened on, land weren't they sorry to lose the pretty Angela, and does she still sing I alone am desolate,' or words to that effectr'
 Now he reused himself.
 ''No, child, she does not, because it would not be true. She would not be the only one who is lonely and deso- late.'"
 The disapproving eyes burned and stung her. Bounding to her feet she stood like some wild thing at bay.
 'Dr. Van Duyn," she panted, "Dr. Van Duyn, you are cruel, you are merciless to throw my own words at me so! You, whom people call humane! How could I ever think you were kind or tender? You are we'll qualified to be surgeon; you could cut ones heart out without a tremor of pity or remorse. You-you"- and bursting into torrent of tears she sank down on the low divan in the far thest corner of the room.
 He did not go to her at once. John Van Duyn was deliberate man, man of few mistakes, act ing only upon forethought and con- viction, and then carrying that conyic- tion in his very tread. When Katherine's hottest tears were shed, when the pain Duyn went over to her. He sat down by her side, and taking first one hand and then the other in his own he gradually drew her to himself.
 "Child," he said, so tenderly, yet so earnestly, s'child, let me say this-do not resent it, beg of you; but you are lonely, you are desolate, perhaps you are i'll. You said so. have come to Fernwood, as you bade me. I have come to you. No, do not draw away. I have said I should never ask for you again, but oh, child, want you-I want youl'' As he drew her closer he looked into her dark eyes for the answer to his unasked question.
 "Oh, Dr. Van Duyn," she cried; ssI have been so cruel-so unjust. I have asked help and counsel from others