The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1898-03-29


fellow dare not follow her. There ca
be but one explanation. He has commit
ted here or hereabouts some crime. H
is fugitive from justice, and tina
brave, devoted girl, for old times SAX
and the love she bears those who wer
good to her in bygone days, is shielding
him to this day to the detriment of he
own peace, happiness and reputation
Mr.. Williams, will you lift the burdel
from her life and tell me who this MAI
is or was?''
"God forgive himl God pity him p
was the heartbroken answer. 1T is my
poor wife's favorite-Nathalie's OWL
cousin-my handsome, reckless boy
Harry" and the poor father buried biz
face in his arms as though, in his pain
and misery, he longed to hide it from
the world. 1t was some time before be
could speak with sufficient self control,
and then he told his story.
"Hal used to vow when be was a big,
stalwart young fellow and she a shy
little schoolgirl in sunbonnet and short
dresses that Nathalie and he were to be
married some day. He was always fond
Of her, but he was wild as hawk and
invariably in some kind of trouble. He
went to Boston to work, and--I can't
tell you the whole story-drink, gam.
bling, appeals to me for money--more
drink, more gambling, more appeals for
money, more trouble through pool buy
ing, and God knows what all. Then one
night he came back here unexpectedly,
hunted and fearsome. He had some
talk with Nathalie, for she came in cry
ing. Next day he was gone Then came
the detectives. He had forged my name
and his employers too. He was caught,
tried, sentenced to prison, and after a
year escaped. That was the last of him
until now. Long ago we used to say
Nathalie was tho only one who could
ever influence him, and long ago she
promised his poor mother ever to DO
friend to him, and now even to hor my
son has been a curse, and through thick
and thin she has striven to protect him.
My God, but it's hard-it's hard!"
So Maynard was right in his theory
after all. All the homeward way he
pondered over what he had learned,
striving to settle on the plan by which,
without bringing further misery to the
stricken father, Nathalie's name might
be cleared at Russell-her real relation
to this outcast and scapegrace estab-
lished. If it were only possible to trace
the fellow and bring him to bookI
There would be comfort in that, he
thought, for his heart was hot against
the scoundrel who could bring such
shame to the loving ones at home, such
shame and torment and peril to an in.
nocent and almost defenseless girl. OF
his own will the father had given May.
nard written statement of the case to
place in Barry's hands, and already
had dispatched it to him,
while taking a copy to be used with
Anterior at Russell.
Once more he alighted at the familiar
old station and made his way to the
cottage that was now Grace's home.
All the brothers. share in his fathers
little estate he had decided to her. 1t
was after sunset, and the soft hush of
twilight had fallen on the beautiful
7alley. Even the drowsy hum Of insects
rad died away. and only by the mellow
olling of the distant church bell and
he soothing plash Of the river sweeping
'ver its rocky bed was the silence bro
zen. The townsfolk seemed mainly
gathered at tho depot across the rapid
tream, for the broad, shaded streets,
oft and dusty, lay unwheeled, untrod-
len, before him. Over on the play
round knot of children had gathered |
Il absorbed attention about some elder,
or the glad young voices were hushed.
he long, shady walk before him was
eserted. The silver shield of the grow
lg moon was already cleaning high
loft. The stars began to twinkle in the
heaven. The low rumble of
)me faraway freight train was borno
II Il moment on the breathless air, then
II again was peace and silence. Wrap.
ed i'll thought, Maynard walked slowly
'ward the outskirts of the village, see-
lg no one whom he knew since cross
lg the old bridge at the Mohawk;
,rned mechanically to the west as he
,ached n cross street as deeply shaded
J that by which he came, and there
sprang up in his heart that
i've him sudden feeling of hesitation
not embarrassment. This was the
rect on which stood Gertrude Bonner's
1me. Bowered among rose and lilac
'shes and pretty trees, it lay only
W rods beyond that little rise in front
him. That light, twinkling even now
rough the foliage, must be in an up
r window close under the rooftree.
u an instant he wished he had taken
G other side of the street, then scorned
g thought as utterly unworthy. Why
ould he shrink from meeting her?
Briskly now he strobe Oh, his head
oct. If, as often in the old furlough
d graduation leave days. she should
at the gate or seated on the piazza, !
itching for his coming, he would greet
r cordially, kindly as ever. He reach
the crest of the little rise. He could
W see the dim reach of the path down
ing the westward slope, bordered by ,
,de trees and shrubbery, and there,
hit at the gate, still some hundred feet
ay, yet distinctly visible-there was
, same pretty, slender form he re- !
mbered so well, clad in its simple 6
lite gown. Doubtless there would be ,
same little knot of ribbon at the I
'oat, the same bright color in the 5
lnded cheeks, the same joyous smile I
nut the rosy lips aud shining eyes,
same frank welcome of the plump
lie hand. He had wired Grace of his ,
ming; so, just as Of old, here was
rtrude Oh the lookout. Yet, although
quick, elastic footsteps brought him !
ny instant nearer and by this time n
uld be audible, she did not stir, she b
not look toward him. She was not
watch for him at all, for her head :,
$ dropping, her eyes downcast, her I
k was toward him, and all her "
lights were riveted on-another man. u
Yes, there at the gate on which as
ldren they had swung together, Ron. .,
and Gertrude-there, talking in low, O
turous tones-was youth whom y