Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-06-21
had been left by the girl Then he sat down to

| Nnat could IL meanl how came tne stolen
| notes In the girls possession?
He could do no work with that thought in
| his mind More than that, he could not bear
| to be in the room when she returned for the
purse. He hurriedly put his papers away and
| went out into the air.
Could she have taken the money?
He tried his best to put the thought away
| from him as he hurried on as fast as he could
| walk along the roads, but it kept recurring with
| every corroborative circumstance that seemed
to grow out of the strange discovery
He was SO absorbed that he noticed nothing
and. as he turned a sharp twist in the lane he
| would have been knocked down if he had not
sprung quickly to the side when some one called
| to him out of a carriage which was being driven
| swiftly toward him.
1t was Maline. and she pulled up sharply.
why, MIR; Power. thought you were going
| to be at work.
He looked up quickly and saw or thought he
saw. signs of anxiety in her face as she con-
tinued:
II have left my purse at home, somewhere,
and have to drive all the way back to find it. "
why, would they not give you credit in
| Marshley?" he asked. trying to make his voice
natural, but failing so much and appearing so
| constrained that the girl noticed it.
| 1T is not that; nut there is something in the
purse particularly want-some patterns, and
| so On.
And again the man thought he could sec that
she was very anxious.
You left the purse in the'library" he said,
| looking at her. Il saw it after you had gone
and tried to catch you with it. but could not.
| You will find 1T there now"'
| This time he was certain that her manner
showed confusion, as she gathered up the reins
| of her ponies and drove OFF, saying:
| Then L must make haste and fetch it.
| Goodbye"
fierce struggle ragged in the mans mind as
he continued his walk for some hours through
the woods and lanes and when he reached the
i Grange just before the dinner hour he was dis
| quieted and agitated
He saw Maline in the drawing room few
minutes before dinner. They we're waiting for
| Mr.. Caringham, who had come in later than
| usual. and he said to her:
| Did you find your purse all right"
| Eyes, thank you" she answered; but in a
manner so completely different from her usual
| tone that he looked at her in astonishment
| She returned the look steadily enough; but
she seemed SO serious and grave that he was
| startled
| Il am glad Of that" he said.
but 1 am afraid disturbed your papers"
| she said. not looking at him, but staring ont of
the window and speaking in a voice that trem-
bied. Il knocked your blotting pad onto the
| floor and scattered the contents. but tried to
put them back, as far as l could, in the same
! order"
| 1T is not Of the least consequence. he an
! swered. And then they said no more until Mr..
| Caringham came down and they all went to
| dinner.
During the whole of that night Wiltred
Power did not sleep. All the facts of the rob-
| bery-as he knew them and they were COL
ored by the light of the days discovery
| reviewed by him time after time.
| The sight OF tine notes in the girls purse, her
evident anxiety to get back quickly from her
| drive to secure the purse, and her manifest
| trouble and agitation when he next saw her and
asked her about it-a condition of mind that
! had lasted the whole evening-perplexed and
] COMPOUNDED him.
| Try as he would he could not get away from
the conviction which, though it at first had
| seemed impossible, had afterward gathered
weight-the conviction that she had, for some
reason. taken the money
| Then he tried to think what must be the con-
| sequences 70 her of discovery. What would the
| father think of the child he almost idolized if
he had to know her "a q thief?
This thought panied him beyond measure
He loved the girl with all the force of his
nature. and the father had been to him as a
| father; had taken him when young and friend
| less, educated him. and treated him lust as a
| son.
Could he do anything to avert the blow
| which he saw must fall upon Mr. Caringham if
| once the fearful truth were known?
Out of this thought grew resolve that was
qulxotic but quite characteristic of the man; he
would endeavor to draw upon himself Mr.
Carlnghams suspicion and SO shield the girl
| He thought long and anxiously of the best
means of doing this without actually stating
| that he was the thief And he decided to tell
| Mr.. Caringham that he must go away and to
| tell him IN such manner as to make him con-
| meet the departure with the theft
He rose in the morning looking haggard and
Ill after the night OF struggle, but firm in his
| resolve.
4 don't understand you, wilfred." was Mr..
| CarinShams hrst comment, when ths other
| told him he wished to 60 away. What is it?
| What's the matter? What do you want?"
Il want nothing except to go away"
well, but-my boy, can't do without you
| You are just like my son-the dear lad whose
to go away for good and all and leave the old
Grange? Tell me, my lad, why?"
Il can't tell you why, Mr.. Caringham"
Cant tell me why, Wilfred, not after all
these years?"
NO; 1 can't tell you," answered the other
keenly touched by the old mans words.
''But it's so sudden. Can't you wait awhile
give me little time to prepare myself? 1t
will be like losing the lad over again" Then
| he paused and added: Are you in any trouble
my boy? 1 mean have you got into any kind
OF scrape! Tell me and I'll do all can for
you"
No, Mr.. Caringham. l have a trouble, but
| none you can help me through" answered
Power.
lis it's it anything to do with Mallne?"
asked the old man.
This was home thrust. and made wilfred
! vince.
Il thought you were such friends and I
| hoped-but there, what's the good of hoping?
Have you quarreled, you two?" he asked
No, Mr.. Caringham. 1t is nothing of that
sort"
Then. what is it? There must be some-
thing. 1t isn't-but there, 1 won't hurt you
| by even thinking that you are leaving because
OF this COMPOUNDED business of the theft
| You're not the lad to leave a place because
there Is bit of sur somewhere about it."
| UNLESS 1t were better that should be away
| from II, answered Power, at a loss how to
make the other suspicious of him.
"But 1t isn't better. Surely 1 know best
| about that. Why, if you were to 90 now. and
| this business were ever found out people
| would say-by heavens!-I don't know what
they wouldn't say about you"
| still, 1t might be best for me to 60"
"How on earth could that be- lad?''
| suspicion might fall on some one-and
| rightly" he added, in an undertone.
| Maybe; but not on you. my boy En- wbat2
| What do you mean by that look? Sneak ONT
boy; speak out" cried the old man. growing
terribly eager in his anxiety at the other's
manner.
Il cannot speak out Even after these years
dare not But / must go, and | must 90
without an explanation and leave you to think
| what you will
| Don't say any more now. Wilfred unless
you want to kill me outright. / don't quite
| know what you mean me to think: but Won
have aroused such horrible thoughts that
can't bear any more now"
Try not to think too hardly Of me, for the
| sake of old times, and tell no one !" said
| Power, as he went out of the room and clo.aJ