The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1897-01-30
Stories of an Inland State.

1
| malignant man were evil, he had deserted
the mother and daughter, when the girl
was but ten years old. Corder had come
| to America; had drifted west, and at last
/ got into politics-the lowest depths OF poll
! tics. What excuses he had for his life
of continued corruption were known only
| to himself like his past life. The memory
of his wife and daughter. deserted years
ago in the interior Asiatic city, Quetta,
appealed to him infrequently and never
| strongly.
| He had married through convenience,
but that alone was possible. Love was
stranger to him and his thoughts And
| now, sometimes, he wondered vaguely over
the probable fate of his daughter, in much
the same way as man wonders over the
present whereabouts. Of horse he has
| owned years ago and sold to a man NOV
ing out of the locality.
He imagined in an indefinite way that
the daughter had married some Tommy At
kins and was happy. He never pictured
her as lonely and miserable for that would
have pre-supposed sympathy and remorse
in the mans nature, and of either he had
none. The mother, his wife, never came
to his mind, dreaming or waking.
What sentiment he had was acquired for
the sole use in politics.
One day while in the city of Cincinnati
he saw his daughter. Corder would have
bet his life it-was she. How did she come
here? That question pressed for an an
swer, but he let it go and accepted the
fact that here she was.
She had grown to be a splendid woman,
Of red-gold hair, brown eyes, of superb
figure. imperious, confident carriage.
Corder met her on the street He fol-
lowed her for hours, into stores, across
squares, into and through long arcades,
out Of curiosity to see what she was doing
in the world
1t should be said here that the woman
looked prosperous, else Corder would not
have followed her. Had she been poor she
would have repealed him. A renewal of the
acquaintance meant an additional burden
to him. But she gave evidence OF every
sign Of wealth. ease and independence. She
could not burden him-she might help him.
In other words, she might be bled.
The woman went to a hotel. Corder loaf
ed about there for days watching the wo-
man closely, scraping up an acquaintance
with the night clerk, until ne found her
name.
She had retained his. This did not appeal
to him
Miss Jane Corder, New York City" ex-
planned the clerk. with significant en-
phasis.
Miss
Into the soul of Corder came for the first
time glimmer of paternal solicitude, born
of paternal sickness at heart. He felt the
strange sense of a responsibility.
He would have talked further to the
clerk in regard to the woman's habits, but
he felt within him a new, unusual re.
Straint-a delicacy.
Sentiment may be dead in man, he may
be all that is evil, and yet unclean as he
is, he VIII rise up and sound a charita-
BILE warning to those above him to take
care lest they fall as he. And his own
daughter.
Corder now felt a duty for the first time
in his life.
He met the woman on the street the next
day and halted her abruptly.
Il am your father, Corder, Edwin Cor
der, of Quetta,'' he said.
Jane looked him over coldly.
This was her father.
What do you want?' she asked.
This was the greeting after sixteen years
Corder rejoiced at the words and the
tones. She was at least like him. He
had feared tears.
Jane" he said. 81 would like to talk to
you"
do you want money!" she asked.
mo" he said
eve will go into the park
They took car. On the way out Cor |
der's daughter him briefly her travels. Her
GOODNESS charmed Corder. She was SO free
from foolish sentiment, so matter-of-fact. |
She had been governess in an English |
family, had gone from Quota to England. |
thence to New York, where she was now |
located.
Your mother, Jane?'
"She is dead
When Trey arrived at the park and were |
seated on settee, Corder felt his duty |
pressing.
You are dressed very finely, Jane; you |
i've at a swell hotel. What do you do in |
New York City," Corder was mellowing |
slightly. The daughter was not.
What is that to your" she asked frig- |
ely.
lions back in a food which overwhelmed |
him. What could he answer? Nothing.
You deserted me Ike dog" she went /
IN. How can concern you now?"
Jane" he said, with more emotion than |
re had ever displayed in his life before.
Lister to me. For Gods sake have a
,are- Be honorable always. For my sake
De honorable-no. not for mine-I don't de-
serve it, but for your own sake, be hon.
,rable. Jane"
Like my father" said Jane, with
smile.
mo, Jane. am not honorable. 1 never
rave been honorable. / am a man.
You"
You are gratu;tous rather with your
suspicious. don't you think?'' the woman
asked lightly.
The lghtness of her speech stabbed the
nan. He had lost hope now
Jane" he asked, You are not on the
tage?"
NO" she said, 'T am not.'
Then what is your-your profession?"
'Nameiess. I guess" she said with a
mile.
Corder collapsed.
81 see no reason why you should pump
ne now," she said. seriously
only this. Jane" said Corder, recover
ng, Il know that one road IN life by
leart- / know every pitfall and bog and
LIT in 1t and no one ever travels its whole
ength"
''You are speaking OF morality. / sup
,ose?''
Drop that Internal sneer, Jane" cried
Ter father, faring up Indignantly. 81 have
oday felt a fatherly solicitude for you.
merely asked a word with you to warn
'ou. Fine dresses. swell hotels. for
BEAUTIFUL woman who is alone In the world.
rho will not name her calling 10 her own
ather. whose name is pronounced with a