The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1897-09-08

nnce of ms name, which was her sole
reply.
Six years later, Harry Armstrong,
little changed in outward seeming,
paced up and down the deck of
steamer, three days out from Liver
pool.
The weather had been stormy, and
the passengers for the most part had
been confined to their staterooms.
Only today few Of the ladies' had
ventured upon deck. One of these
braver ones was seated at the extreme
end Of the ship, and around her was
playing little child-a lovely boy,
four years of age.
ga young widow" thought Mr..
Armstrong, stealing cursory glance
at the slender figure draped in heavy
black.
A thick, blue veil quite concealed
her face, and usually indifferent as he
was to women, he felt strange curl
osity to see her lift it.
When he passed second time he
extended his hand to the child.
"Would you like a walk, my little
man?" he asked.
The boy ran to him.
MAY I take him, madame" he in
quired, courteously lifting his hat; but
If he hoped to hear her voice he was
disappointed.
She bowed assent. He could not
know that underneath the veil great
tears were rolling down her cheeks.
The child was little more than a baby,
his hair hanging over his shoulders in
flaxen curls, but all his prattle was of
''mamma.
"Where is papa?" questioned Arm
strong.
Up went the little finger heaven
ward, while a solemn look stole over
the baby-face.
Gas thought" reflected the man,
and he felt singular satisfaction in
having his suspicion verified. 81 will
hear her voice at least" he determined,
and he walked back to where she sat.
"Your little boy and have become
great friends" he said. 81 am fond
of children, and he has promised me
we shall have many walks together.
"You are very kind" was the sim
pie answer.
But Armstrong, as he heard it, grew
deathly pale
'Trene!" he said, as though the
name burst involuntarily from his
lips.
She instantly threw back her veil,
but all trace of tears had disappeared,
and only smile was on her lovely
lips as she extended toward him her
hand.
"You won't refuse to shake hands
with me-" she said, sweetly. 81 rec
ognized you at once, Mr.. Armstrong,
and l also recognized that, on the mar
row confines of the ship, avoidance of
each other would be impossible.
Here, at least, we may be friends?"
Not for six years-not since the mo-
ment he had left this woman's pres
ence--had Harry Armstrong; heart
beat as madly as in this hour; but her
composure helped his.
He let his fingers close over hers
with no warmer pressure than in un-
expectedly meeting any chance ac-
quaintance; but the warmth had gone
from his tone, as he replied:
Friends always 1 trust. Six years
have changed you very little, Mrs. b.
con-"
A red flush rose to her cheeks as he
spoke her name, and she answered
hurriedly, rs though some embarrass-
ment possessed her.
$50 my rival is dead," mused Arm
strong, when he found himself again
alone. "Andthe old madness is upon
me. We both stand now on equal
ground at least. Does she know?
wonder! Has she heard that one year
after the day she Tilted me came into
my fortune? Not long waiting
would it have been for either of us.
Perhaps, as John Bacon's widow, she
will endeavor again to inveigle me
into believing her true. All, one les
son such as have had lasts man a
lifetime. And yet-oh, God, why can
/ not forget her? Before / knew who
she was the old attraction drew me
toward her. After leave this ship /
pray that we may never meet again."
Perhaps because Harry Armstrong
really was SO earnest in this prayer he
concluded he must make the most OF
the present. Perhaps it was the old
story of the candle and the moth, but
certain it was that day after day found
him beside his old love.
They never spoke of the past. They
never resurrected the dead Their
hands never met even in "good
morning" Yet they laughed and
talked as though each did not feel the
mad heart-beats every instant they
were together.
1t was the last day out. Irene and
Harry were alone, the child playing
at their feet, when lady approached
them, leaning on the arm of her maid,
pale and wan from recent illness.
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