The times., 1893-12-15
CHAPTER K.

NAlAl LII A.
A year went by unmarked for Virgins
BY single incident out of the common
gray as the wastes Of sea unrufiied by
. storm. unmarked by the approach of q
sail.
Another year came, andwhen the opu.
lent sunlight of early summer was del.
uging with it's gold the dusty streets q
coupe stopped one day at the door of the
house in Chelsea square, and man. a
stranger, asked for Virginia Kent.
Crossing the threshold of her home, be
had entered her life. Looking into her
eyes, full of unforgotten days, something
& his lost youth had awakened in his
heart that could only die with death.
This man was Richard Monklow. Vir-
ginia had often heard her father speak of
him, especially of his meeting with him
IN the auction room the day he had pur-
chased .The Masker."
The first glance at him gave an i'm
preston that forever remained. He had
followed the sea and followed it as q
commander. His straight, powerful
shoulders had fearless poise His glance
was level, soft; his face, Its first youth
faded. brown as sere grass, under
shOrn, glitterlng frost of his hair. His hu-
manity was deep, strong, farreaching,
- one could see who looked into his
eyes, and his smile had warm, bright
sympathy. There were times when he
looked startlingly youthful with his
white hair. There were unguarded mo-
ments Of sadness when the chronicle OF
his years fared eloquently-a confession
in every deepened line Then one knew
he had lived the full life of man in a
crowded 40 years, in the sowing and har-
vest time, had garnered barren hopes and
pain, yet without bitterness had tied the
sheaves.
He had come to bring Virginia to he-
fathers bedside. The tremors against
which the old man had struggled so long
had eliminated after an excessive de-
bauch in paralytic stroke resembling
death. He had drifted to Monklow's
rooms and lay where he had fallen.
AS she drove away with him that day
Virginia did not dream that the summer
would be past ere she returned to live
again at Chelsea square, but so it was.
La Richard Monklow's home, where the
softness and fragranceof modern luxury
were more caressing than the breath Of
NE perfect summer mornings. she nursed
her father to semblance of health
Her lonely heart won back little of
fs freshness in these surroundings. Her
lips again voiced joyous laughter
Friendship that rang like gold had been
generously poured into her life. Her
gratitude went out with equal strength
. Richard Monklow, and to his sister, q /
oft voiced, sympathetic woman. who /
nade her dimly realize what her moth.
RS love might have meant to her.
Vhen she came home again, and the
lays settled back to their wonted placidi-
y, but with this difference-that a bent
nd shrunken figure, lay Imply in a
reat chair, and the energy and pride in
ler fathers still stubborn heart could |
My be read now in the hollow, morose
yes flashing beneath the puckered
rows.
She stood beside the window one Sep
enber morning, letter crushed be-
ween her hot hands. A mild rain was
rifting like tangled skeins through the
ray air. Beyond lay the college grounds.
vista of damp greenness.
She opened the crumpled sheet, smooth
ag out its creases almost tenderly Her
ps quivered like child's.
"You know what | am going to say"
he read again. During the summer
nat has been like no other to me, many
mes the words l longed to speak have
embed upon my lips. but something in
our eyes always silenced me. Virginia.
can be silent no longer. love you sol
ne years are dark before you, dear, but
would keep you safe. No harm, no
Mn, should touch you. Too old and
d, perhaps, you think me. The years
I've left their ashes on my hair. am
king too much when / ask for your
ruth. Yes, yes, / know But, oh! child,
'ur eyes lured me to dream again. You
oke my poor, chilled soul, and it is
,urS. 1t but responded to your uncon-
ious call. Turn from me, if you must,
ID | will put away my dream, but my
III is forever yours. You possess it,
ID l would not have it back. But, oh,
you would come to me, Virginia!
How the words awoke all the old paint {
le drew her breathin hard, the lips fell |
or her heavy eyes, and reading Rich {
q Monklow's letter she thought of l
Nm. These words of searching strength. 9
ivering with the rejuvenating breath
love, had been the lever that rolled II
, stone from the old grave, and she
'od looking at memories she had be- o
Yed were crucified.
my soul is forever yours. would '
have 1t back" :,
Inc words were in her mind. She
med speaking them In the darkness to
y other who had not listened. Was q
o alwaysl Must one speak and ono
heara One live, the other wait,
You have a very interesting letter ;.
re, Virginia. You haven't made a u
nd for half an hour" And at her o.
hers voice, reduced now to petulant "a
ing that anger made shrilI, she start "a
yuiltily and thrust it in her pocket ye
1rs from Monklow. He's asked yon m