Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1894-01-24

years 1O1OWeu. lOuuu my WOIh anu L
bless God for that. / have not known
really unhappy hour since, though have
suffered from remorse and a longing for
those who are dear to me-"
why then. did you not go to them
asked Gunnar, in a voice which no effort
could steady.
young man, it may seem foolish to
you if say that l never had the time
answered Norman, finging himself
again into the arm chair, "but for all
that it is the fact. My work has pos
sessed me like first love which kept me
awake at night. | postponed and again
postponed doing my duty, because /
dreaded to see the Norwegian parsons in
my house until l should feel strong
enough to fight them on their own
ground. assumed the name Norman
simply to escape the same influence in
my life. wanted to be wholly an Amer
lean and take the place to which my
ability entitled me in the American COM
munity. could never have done that
if had assumed again the spiritual yoke
which it cost me such dire struggle to
throw off,"
"Then it is as a burden you take back
resentful glance.
"Oh, no, l love them; have longed
after them. l want them!'' cried his
father, starting up again and resuming
his restless walk.
but know can never make it plain
to you how you can love person and
yet deplore certain phases of her charac-
ter. Once my wife came near subju-
eating me, and from the best of motives
crushing out that which was noblest
and most precious in me. As long as l
feared that feared her. Now fear it
no longer and l can afford to let her
know that love her."
They talked on for about an hour, and
Gunnar without undisguising himself as
sumed the proposed mission. He began
dimly to comprehend that his father,
driven and impelled by his genius, which
was an overmastering force in his life,
could not be judged by the same stand
ard as lesser men. But just as he had
risen to receive Mr.. Norman's thanks
something touched him with a cold hor-
ror and sent a shudder down his back.
His revenge! His wretched revenge!
He was about to dishonor his father just
as he was showing himself most honor
able.
But perhaps there was yet time. 1t
was 10 o'clock, and the papers scarcely
went to press until l or in the morn
ing. With his head in whirl he rushed
out of the front door, hired a horse at a
neighboring stable and drove to Wicker
Park. There he had a stormy interview
! with Mathilda, in which dainty little
cloven hoof of mercenary interest peeped
forth all too plainly from under the en-
broidered skirts She had a check for
$50 in her pocket which she had received
from The Daily Trombone for the spicy
revelations regarding Mr.. Norman's
wickedness, and she was naturally re-
luctant to part with it. But in return
for Gunnar's promissory note for $3.50
she finally released her tight little clutch
and gave it up; but like a great many
people who are too clever for their own
good, Mathilda had really outwitted
herself. She had made 800, but she
had lost lover She had a dim present
ment when her excitement had cooled
that Gunnar's love for her had received
a mortal wound and in this present
ment she was right.
The return Of the check, the declara-
ton of the falsity of the alleged revela-
tions and the threat of suit for libel
suficed, after considerable discussion,
to make The Trombone renounce the
promising sensation. Gunnar, to make
assurance doubly sure, remained to see
the manuscript and proof destroyed and
the type redistributed. As he caught
glimpses of such monstrous head lines,
"a Double Life" Villain Unmasked,"
"a Rich Mans Crime" etc., he realized
what narrow escape he had had from
committing cruel and dastardly deed.
A week after this episode Gunnar led
a tall and yet stately woman of 40
into Norman's library. The manufact-
urer was standing with his hands in his
pockets and his back to the fire. There
was vague anxiety in his face and an
occasional twitching of the muscles
about the mouth, as if he were trying to
master strong emotion. He started
forward with both hands outstretched
when the door opened, but paused in the
middle of the floor, gazing with a
strange uncertainty at the two persons
who entered. The handsome matron
became conscious of slight embarrass-
ment as she noted his expression, and the
joyous eagerness which had animated
her features gave way to an anxious con-
fusion. He was so different from what
she had expected. Eighteen long years
lay between them with the slow trans
formation they had wrought They had
taken her husband from her and substi-
tuted another who was he and yet not he
This good looking middle aged gentle
man, with full beard and clad in city
attire, how could he ever be to her what
the shabby, restless, discontinued Morse
peasant, Hans Matson, had been? And
yet, as he pressed her hands and well
coined her, though not with the free and
joyous ring she had expected, she caught
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