The Yakima herald. [volume] (North Yakima, W.T. [Wash.]) 1889-1914, 1894-04-12
CHAPTER x.

A year went by unmarked for Virginia
by . single incident out Of the common,
gray a. the wastes Of q sea unruffied by
q storm, unmarked by the approach of .
sail.
Another year came, and when the opu-
lent sunlight Of early summer was del
uging with its gold the dusty streets .
coupe stopped ono day at the door of the
house in Chelsea square. and man, .
stranger, asked for Virginia Kent.
Crossing the threshold Of her home, he
had entered her life. Looking into her
eyes, full Of unforgotten days, something
Of 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 1.-THE Masker."
The first glance ct him gave an inn
preston that forever remained. He had
followed the sea and followed IL a. q
commander. His straight, powerful
shoulders had fearless pcise. His glance
was level, soft; his face, its FIRST youth
faded. brown as sere grass, under the
shorn, glitteripg frost Of his hair. His hu-
manity was deep, strong, fsrreaching,
as 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 ungusrded mo
ments Of sadness when the chronicle of
his years Jared eloquently-a confession
in every deepened line. Then one knew
he had lived the full life of a man in q
crowded 10 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 her
fathers bedside. The tremors against
which the old man had struggled SO long
had eliminated after an excessive de-
banch in q 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 abe returned to live
again OF Chelsea square, but so 1t was.
In Richard Monklow's home, where the
softness and fragrance Of modern luxury
were more caressing than the breath Of
the perfect summer mornings, she nursed
her father to q semblance Of health.
Her lonely heart won back q little Of
its 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
TO Richard Monklow. and to his sister, q
soft voiced, sympathetic woman, who
made her dimly realize what her moth,
er's love might have meant to her.
Then she came home again, and the
days settled back to their wonted placidi.
ty, but with this difference-that bent
and shrunken figure. lay Imply In a
great chair, and the energy and pride in
her fathers still stubborn heart could
only be read now in the hollow, morose
eyes flashing beneath the puckered
brows.
She stood beside the window one Sep
TENDER morning, letter crushed be-
tWccH UtE NOT uhuus- n Iltiu thku Wa
drifting like tangled skeins through the
gray air. Beyond lay the college grounds,
q vista Of damp greenness-
She opened the crumpled sheet. smooth,
ing out Its creases almost tenderly. Her
lips quivered like child's.
You know what I am going 10 say,
she read again. During the summer
that has been Ike no other to me, many
times the words l longed to speak have
trembled upon my lips. but something In
your eyes always silenced me. Virginia.
lean be silent no longer. love you 20!
The years are dark before you. dear, but
l would keep You safe. No harm, no
pain, should touch you. Too old and
sad. perhaps. you think me. The years
have left their ashes on my hair. I am
asking too much when I ask for your
youth. Yes. yes. know. But. obi child.
vonr eyes lured me to dream again you
mn A Nj III