The Press., 1894-12-20

make his escape from prison. She got the news the day her only child was buried. y
 Bronson gave half groan, a sound almost like sob, as Tryon paused iii his blunt recital.
 s'That was two years ago. She never whimpered under it, and tonight she is crying as if she would kill herself. And I don't know but she will. Think of a woman's life going to wreck like that!'
 Whatever Bronson may have thought, he said nothing. There was 8 long silence and much tobacco smoke.
 Don't they take something?' he said hesitatingly after awhile. "A cup of tea or something? I'll broil quail if you like ;
 ''That' so, ,' accepting the suggestion cheerfully. Then they went out into Sam Lees shining little kitchen and pottered about with the best of intell. tions, but with much disturbance of small, jingling movables. He1en's cry ing was over now She lay prone and nerveless, with the exhaustion of such tears. She heard the uproar among the pots and pans and wondered faintly about it.
 Harry opened tho door finally, with a laden tray ill his hands.
 "I made the tea," he explained breathlessly, land Bronson cooked the bird, and we couldn't find the bread. "
 Helen sat up and pushed the damp hair back from her face.
 Bronson thought of it, ; he said per 1xy t1,v tn And Helen drank her tea and nibbled her bird with an unsmiling sense of the unfitness of things when meat and drink were offered as remedy for such trou- bles as hers
 But it did her good. She slept dream lessly that night, and if she came out to breakfast with heavy shadows under her eyes the sad tipped mouth had lost little of it's rigid line of pain.
 There had been all epidemic of law lessness through the country for the last few weeks The particular manifesto tion of the disease was horse stealing Now, to take mans horse was gener- ally worse-for the community-than taking his life The public sense of jus tice did not always wait for the slow and rather uncertain action of the law. Harry rode away that evening without defining his business, and Bronson found Helen alone ill her hammock, as usual
 These two did not find talk necessary They had reached that grade of ac- quaintanceship where long silences are unremarked. A soundless half hour passed. Helen lay with half shut eyes, watching the broad flood of sunset light die out of the sky. Bronson was smok- ing. When the cigar was quite done, he rose deliberately and stood beside her. In the faint light, ill her white gown, her 25 years rolled back and left her ill girlhood again.
 "Helen," he said, touching fold of her dress with softly reverent hand.
 She looked up at him with an in stant's surprise; then her eyes fell.
 Forgive me-" he said hunbly. "l have not seen many women. When you came it was like revelation. And now Iknow that l love you. l."
 She opened her lips to speak, but ne stopped her.
 II know" he said "Harry told me your story. Won't you dare trust an other man?''
 There was something very childlike in the simplicity of the question. She half smiled. Then all at once the past rushed over her.
 ''No," she said wildly, rising to he1 feet. 'All that has gone by forever. You do not know what you are saying. A woman who has lived through such 8