The Wichita daily eagle., 1893-12-01

snow-capped mountain, he again asked
himself the question: why did you do
it?" He could not answer-he did not
know. He did it-yes! he would do 1t
again. But why? Could it be love?
He smiled as the thought occurred to
him; men did not trust as their sisters
| the women whom they loved.
Slowly. steadily the days rolled by.
Parties. social gatherings and friendly
calls at the Synton cabin, whose fire.
qucncy marked the earlier days of their
arrival at Blue Gravel Gap. became
only events of occasional happenings;
their sharp edge of novelty had worn
| away. But one there was who, upon
| all matters of business, felt compelled
| Ito consult Dali" Trivial indeed
would have been the matter on which
Dick Dow did not require Mr.. Synton's
advice.
1t was with feeling Of amused
curiosity that Dal Synton first noted
the frequency of the young mans
visits; the idle excuses he made for
| calling; the flush of pleasure which
would overspread his features when
Ethel entered. Then he began to
watch for some sign, some token by
which he might know that the young
! girls affection had been aroused And
as the days sped rapidly by, bringing
ever nearer the time when he must go,
| he experienced strange uneasiness, a
vague desire to prolong his stay. Life
| seemed very pleasant to him. He won
dered how it would appear when he
would go from her-from his cheerful
| home-and return to deserted cabin
to find another enjoying the happi-
ness which was supposed to be his, but
which he had never known.
+ The warm, balmy days of summer
had come and gone, the SHOWS of win
ter had settled down on all about. when
Dal Synton at last announced his in
tention of paying visit to some mines
farther south. As he stood among the
little group of miners, in the long, low
saloon, he wondered when he would
again be with them. perhaps for
ever.' had been his mental reserva-
ton, when he had informed his wife
that he should absent several weeks.
The glasses clanked merrily as they
drank to his speedy return: the shouts
which followed him through the door,
and rang in his ears when it had closed
with loud bang behind him, were
filed with a rough, deep. hearty friend
ship. Nevertheless there was strange,
choking sensation in his throat as he
neared his cabin, that cabin, whose
roof might be about to shelter him for
the last time A bright light cleaned
from the front window. 1t pleased him;
she had remained awake to bid him
good-by.
AS Dal Synton entered the cabin his
wife greeted him with an anxious look.
''Dal," she said, and her voice was
like moan of pain as she came up to
him and laid her head on his shoulder.
''Dal, are you going away believing me
guilty of the charge they made against
me that day? Do you think had been
wicked even only that once?"
Ibid we not agree to forget" He
stopped. The young girl raised her
hands with sudden gesture, as if pro-
tecting herself from a blow.
''Stopr' she breathed, rather than
spoke the words. 'Stop! listen to me
to the truth! When l ran away from
Monochrome! it was never a home for
mel did so because could no longer
endure the cruelty of my aunt. Never,
since my mother died, had she accorded
me aught but the harshest treatment.
For years 1 suffered in silence, and
might yet have been enduring
my unhappy lot, but the man
whom she was about to marry met
me and became odiously attentive
to me. His attention was not only
hateful and disgusting to me, bnt it
caused my aunt to treat me-if such
was possiblc-with greater severity
Their. ran away; I could do nothing
else. l found employment at once, and
for few days l knew the happiness of
other girls; but not for long. That
man quarreled with my aunt when he
found that l had gone, and in a fit of
anger he left her, vowing that he
would search me out and make me his
wife. The next day my aunt appealed
to the police, charging that had left
home with the man and was leading q
oASoChulS Liz. 1HCy pCliCNCu ASI duu
and l was arrested. You know
the"
She could proceed no further. Her
face was buried in her hands, and she
was sobbing.
Dal Synton had listened to her in
anlazement.
Ethel he exclaimed, passionately,
''all laws say that the prisoner shall re-
ceive the benefit of the doubt, and you
were not even given the benefit of the
judges pity" Then as she looked up
he became more calm. Pardon me,
Ethel!' ne continued in a tone of self
reproach, II am going away to-mor-
row. win write you. We can soon
right the wrong which has been
done"
She raised her eyes to his-eyes tha. |
were filled with tears "a pitiful /
glance.
"Dal," she said, softly, won't you /
stay? IL want husband, but IL |
don't want my freedom