The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1898-01-09

it was almost impossible. There was
nothing to be done, therefore, but TO
keep the hand as much out of sight as
possible, and pretend not to notice it
herself.
Thus, all futter and merry BUSINESS,
Helen lifted her eyes at Turnham Green
and saw the unknown enter as usual
Taking his accustomed seat in the far
corner, with his quiet look at her, he
unfolded his paper Helen slid her Of
tending member out of sight between
herself and the Gladstone bag of her
left-hand neighber, and sat looking out
or the window. So far good; but
station or two farther on the Gladstone
bag and its owner got out, and Hell
ems bare hand lay confessed.
She gave quick, frightened
glance at the quiet figure in the COR
ner. His eyes were fixed on her hand;
his face wore an expression of surprise,
mingled with another feeling, for which
poor confused Helen could find no
name.
Then their eyes met, hers timid, al
most imploring, his questioning, anx-
ious, and yet glad, as the eyes of one
who has discovered an unexpected way
confusion. turned her head away She
could feel that he looked constantly
from her hand to her face she felt
too, that there was something unusual
IN his steadfast regard, and the troub-
led curiosity which this feeling awoke
kept her, for the time being, from
dwelling on the sorrowful knowledge
that she might never see him again.
But at the last. sadness must needs
be uppermost, and in leaving the car
riage she stole a shy glance at him.
To her surprise. he deliberately folded
his paper, and stepped on to the plat
form. Helen turned quickly away, her
heart beating almost to suffocation in
the sudden access of wonder, and her
limbs trembled as she passed up the
double staircase and out of the sta
ton. She could not look back, but she
knew that firm footstep followed her,
unfamiliar, yet having no sense Of
strangeneSs.
The way to her new home, which she
had intended to visit before commenc
ing her teaching round, lay in the oppo-
site direction to that which she usual
~ went, but in her confusion she for
got all about the fiat. Acting upon
impulse, or, perhaps, precedent, she
stepped into blue bus waiting out
side the station, and taking a seat at
the far end, looked out of the front
window. A little farther on, when the
conductor took her fare, she found
herself alone in the vehicle. Helen left
the bus at Kensington Church, though
usually alighting at Holland Park, and
hurried long the High street without
one backward look or a moments de-
lay.
But she knew, by some shy, womanly
instinct, that he followed. He must
have taken an outside seat on the bus.
What did it mean? What should she
do? She was some distance from any
pupil she could call upon, and a long
way from her new home. At Palace
Gardens she turned into the open space
with hasty resolve.
Il will get into Church street by the
back of the barracks she thought,
land take the bus to Radcliffe Gar
dens."
She walked a little farther; the foot
steps behind her quickened, came close,
went a pace in front; then the I'M
known, stopping, raised his hat.
Miss Percival, I think" he said
MAY I beg the favor Of a few words
with your"
II am Miss Percival," she stammer-
ed, but / do not know YOU"
Her old maidenly primness was con-
fused, her pallor drowned in the rush
of crimson which flooded her face.
ct am stranger-at present" he an
swered, In quiet, even voice, and keep
ing his silver-streaked head uncovered.
I'm order to explain how I know your
name. 1 must refer to''-he paused,
looking keenly at her-"to Eric Stan
ham,
.Eric," she cried, and the red flood,
ebbing from her face, left it very pale.
May I walk a little way with you?"
he asked, gently.
She was literally unable to speak, but
gave dumb assent by moving on. He
put on his hat, and walked by her
side. They crossed the road, and en-
tered the gardens by the little door In
the wall. The morning being dull and
chilly, the space around the old Dutch
palace was deserted, and they We're al
most as much alone as in wilder
ness. He opened his pocket-book, and
handed her a card, on which she read
his name, Mr. John Morland."
1t all came back to her, and she
turned hurriedly to him with tear
brimned eyes. This was the man who
had sent her Eric's ring, who had
nursed and comforted her boyish love
in his far-off death place. She put
out her hand.
ct have SO often wished 1 could thank
you," she said, simply; "but, as you
Enclosed no address, I was unable to
write"
There was no need to thank me-" he
answered, his eyes searching her
changeful face while he spoke. II
only did what I hope any good Briton
would do for another in distress. Be-
side, / liked young Stanham, and,
though I had seen little of him, it was
enough to make me feel sorry for him
-and-for the girl he so truly loved. !"
II should like to hear a few particu-
lars she faltered.
II cannot tell you much here" he
replied. But I do want to speak to
you of him, and of our too short life
out there together. I should like to
speak little, too, Of other things
which-may interest you-perhaps.
For man well on in middle age, a
Travelled man, business man, John
Morland was rather confused in his
mode of addressing a lady; and Helen's
own nervousness hardly helped him.
IT should like she stammered.
''But I shall not be- mean, shall not
see you any more"
There was sad want of dignity in
her manner; any up-to-date miss of l6
would have achieved the situation with
a. self-sufficient aplomb utterly wanting