Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1898-03-30

er and the rose-.ed lips of his compan-
ion murmured, Il love you, Mark"
Still lower his head sank until his lips
touched the ones that had uttered the
sweet words.
start, and he sat upright, glancing
around him. That was ten years ago.
He was poor then, and Margaret, beau
tiful Margaret Henson. had been the
only daughter of wealthy home. SO
their engagement had been forbidden.
They parted, vowlng eternal constancy.
A year later Margaret became the wife
of Vance Gregory, but II was not until
months after that Mark learned of the
treachery and deceit that had been en-
ployed to urge her to that step.
1t was too late then. There was
nothing to do but endure.
He had known for some time that
Margaret was widow and lived In the
city. He knew nothing of her poverty.
supposlng that her means We're ample.
To go to her now with story of love
had never occurred to him. She knew
nothing of what had parted them He
could not blacken the memory of the
man who had been her husband the
father of her children.
He sprang to his feet. There was no
need of an explanation. He passed out,
pausing for final word with Mrs.
Donovan.
Tell Mrs. Gregory the things came
from the teachers at No. g."
''To be sure, Mr.. Davis" responded
I'll tell her all bout 1t. And may the
bllssin's of all the saints rest on your
dear headn'
Mark hurried away, leaving a shin
ing silver dollar in Royee's hand
1t was only a few minutes after his
departure that thinly clad woman
came toiling wearily up the stairs. 1t
was Margaret Gregory. The woman
who owed her was out OF town. The
needy mother had applied at several
places for work, only to meet with re
fusal. Then she had gone to store
and begged for credit, but in vain.
She had reached the end. There was
but one way open. She would ask Mrs.
Donovan to give her children their din
ner. When she had rested and con
quered the bitter rebellion in her heart
she would go out again and apply to
the city for charity.
Margaret Gregory was proud. She
was already faint for the want of food,
yet she turned In loathing from the
thought of meal obtained in that
way. 1t would be worse than death,
but death doesn't come at ones call,
and there were her babies.
A dry sob burst from her lips. She
passed Mrs. Donovan's door in silence.
She must have moment to herself be-
fore she could ask charity of one so
poor as her kind neighbor. Hurrying
on she pushed open her own door.
A bright fire was blazing in the
cracked stove. Mrs. Donovan had pre-
pared potatoes for the oven and cut
slices ready for frying from the ham.
The open door of the wood closet show
ed huge pile, while the table was
heaped high with food.
For moment she stood gazing wild
ly around her. Then she dropped on
her knees and a shower of tears re-
lieved her overwrought nerves.
The next days mail brought letter
from Margaret TO Mr.. Davis. The
writer had gone to Miss Smell to thank
her. From the young teacher she had
Ioa I'D SNf ha,.l.'s .nnnantinn with ha
affair.
1t was an earnest grateful letter,
blotted here and there with tear stains.
She accepted his generosity; for her
children's sake she could not refuse
charity. She referred TO the friendship
that had existed between their parents,
but Mark was glad she was too wom-
anly a woman to even hint at the rela-
ton they had once borne to each other
When he finished reading the letter his
heart was light, for he understood that
Margaret knew of the treachery that
had blotted the sunshine of his life.
Mark went straight home and told
his aunt, who was also his housekeep-
er, all about it. Mrs. Eyerts was knit
ting before the open coal fire. She was
brlght-faced old lady, with soft white
hair and a serene face. When he had
finished she laid down her work and
sat for long time gazing into the
dancing flames.
1.-The only daughter of my old friend,
Rebecca Henson, in want of food she
said, a note of pain In her voice. Mark,
you and l both have plenty of money,
there is room in this house, and in our
hearts, for Margaret and her babies.
But she is proud. Go and ask her to
come and sew for me. Tell her | am
lonely and ask her TO bring her little
ones to brighten me up"
Mark bent to kiss the placid face.
'.Thank you, Aunt Elsie, l see you un-
derstand." A few hours later he knock
ed at Maragret's door. He saw that
the years had changed her. The wild
rose bloom had faded from her cheeks,
tears had washed the JOYOUS light from