The Bourbon news., 1897-08-24

what / should have said then; that /
cannot endure this separation much
longer-that the love which / have tried
so hard to keep out Of my letters for
fear 1 should make you come back to
your hurt refuses to be hidden under
meaningless and commonplace phrases.
"Oh, Philip, if you love me, please
don't let this misfortune raise any bar
rier between us! You know what Aunt
Bellam left me-you know that it is
mine in my own right, and 1 entreat
you not to turn my gratitude into
misery by refusing to share this money
with me. But you will not, I know you
will not; and if we had nothing else, we
should still have each other, and what
more could we ask?
"In some respects, 1 know you
better than you know yourself; and I
know that if you can have your health
you will yet win place among those
who have fought their way into the
foremost rank. Be good to me, Philip,
dear, and let me share the battle and
the triumph with you. Come back to
US if you are well enough, and if you are
not, please let me come to you"
Protheroe heard something between
groan and an imprecation, and he
stopped and waited for Philip to come
up. "Did you say anything?" he asked.
Nothing worth repeating; think
was tempted to swear a little at the
crookedness of things in general. wish
that cursed horse that threw me had
broken his neck or mine, or BOTH"
"Does your ankle hurt?"
Everything hurts"
Protheroe did not attempt to drive
the conversational nail any farther.
He was preoccupied with his own con-
Germs, and he had been trying to deter
mine what he should do when he
reached Duncan's. Would his part in
the affair be ended when he had seen
Thorndyke safe in the house of his
friends? or would he be expected to
help his rival in the fight with the COM
pany? How would Elsie receive him
after his late transgression? How could
he endure to meet her in the presence
of the man she loved?
They were troublesome questions,
but the engineers perplexities were as
serenity itself compared with the
tumult of conflicting emotions which
had slain the peace of mind of his COM
panion. Before he had read three lines
of Helen's letter, Thorndyke was sink
ing into the neither depths of self-abase-
ment; and when he had finished it he
felt that it would be a comfort if he
could get down into the road and strew
dust upon his head. This was the love
he had put aside for the sake of a mere
| impulse born of sick mans fantasies;
the fine gold that he had tossed con-
| temptuously into a melting-pot heated
blythe remainder of the simile was
drowned in a submerging wave of self
contempt. And now, at this present
moment, when he was cursing his recl-
less Inconsistency, and wishing from the
bottom of his heart that he had had the
| decency to die quietly in the odor of
good faith, she had his letter and she
had learned at his own hands upon what
broken reed her love had been leaning.
After the storm came the calm of
| desperation. He had wrecked Helen's
| life and his own, and Elsie's happiness
| trembled in the balance. He could at
least save Duncan's daughter, and in
the riot of distracting thoughts this
was the only one that offered grain of
comfort. He would eXpiate his folly
| by devoting himself, body and soul, to
the task of making Elsie as happy as
| she deserved to be. And he would
| speak to her as soon as he could find
the pportunity-before he had the
| time to sink still deeper in the mire of
fickleness, he told himself, bitterly.
By the time Thorndyke had reached
| this conclusion, Protheroe was leading
the horse down the trail on the Little
Chiwassee side of the mountain, and an
hour after dark the small procession
stopped at Duncan's gate.
You're heavier than you used to be a;
L don't think you're going to die OF
consumption" said Protheroe, remem-
bering another time when he had
helped Philip dismount at the farmers
gate.
"No; more's the pity" rejoined
Philip, ungraciously. ct would be bet
ter on all accounts if l should"
AS not infrequently happens when
the probable course of events has been
carefully prefgured, nothing came
about during the evening to verify
Protheroe's fears or to add to Thorn.
dykes misery. They were all unfeign-
edly glad to welcome both of the wan.
derers; and while Mrs. Duncan was
principally concerned in doctoring
Philips ankle, Elsie tried to induce the
young engineer to lay aside the shroud
of reserve which he conceived to be the
proper penitential garment for the oc,
casiOn. How had he found Mr. Thorn.
dyke? Had he ridden far? How had
they ever managed to get down the
mountain with the horse? Weren't
they both dreadfully hungry? These
and many more questions Protheroe
had to answer, and at length he was
obliged, for very shame's sake, 20 com.
pei himself to be oblivious to that