The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1899-05-17

AM iuu lOIBottel, ue nus u
daughter"
The knobbly stick lay on tho ground
now, and its owner was trembling like
leaf. With an agile spring the cy-
cist seated himself in his saddle, and
as his feet found the pedals he looked
round over his shoulder.
Don't forget, said he; "the house
with the turrets. / will vouch there
is good, square meal awaiting you. I"
And with that he rode away through
the drenching rain.
Robert Templeton, the world-famed
architect, sat in his study deep in
thought. From some distant portion
of the old house the sound of girls
fresh, young voice, singing Loves Old
Sweet Song" reached his ears. Sud
denly the song ceased, and Robert
Templeton knew the dreaded moment
had arrived knew that Harold Frank
lin had called for his (Templeton's)
answer.
He had promised to give il that very
night that very hour-and Franklin,
anxious lover that he was, had braved
the inclemency of that night to hear
that which meant either lifelong hap
piness for him or dreary drag of
''stale, fiat and improbable" existence.
Templeton rose from his chair aud
pacsl slowly about the room.
The story lie had to tell Harold
Franklin was inevitable. How would
he receive that story? Would he, in
his great love for Clarice, laugh the
deception to scorn; or would he heap
contumely upon the narrators head
and leave the girl who loved him for
ever? No, Danish the latter thought
Harold Franklin was true English
creatures who sometimes pose as such
creatures of veneer and vapidity-
but a man with heart as sound as
one of the oaks of his native land; q
man who valued his fellow creatures
for their true mind worth and not sole
ly on account of their wealth of the
worlds goods.
Half an hour passed, and Templeton
was still pacing about his study, when
n firm step approached, and knock
sounded upon the door. Templeton
went across and threw it wide open.
His visitor was Harold Franklin.
"And so you have come for my
answer, Harold?" said the architect,
afte' their formal greeting.
"fes, SIR" replied the young fellow,
with quick look in the Others face.
Templeton placed chair for his
visitor and sat down facing him.
t,,t g.
sary she, too, should hear what / have
to say" he said.
''Clarice is acting the good Samar-
itan to poor fellow 1 met on the
road" said franklin. He was faint
with hunger, 80 I presumed to invite
him to bite and sup beneath your roof,
Mr.. Templeton. trust my presump-
ton did not overstep the bounds oi
my acquaintanceship with yourself
"You did perfectly right, Harold, "
interposed the elder man. "And
Clarice, you say, is attending to the
poor fellow with her own hands?"
"Yes, sir; she preferred to do So"
A few minutes later Clarice Temple
ton entered the room, and both it;
male occupants were surprised to Sc,
her eyes were fearful. "You hav,
been weeping, child?' said her father,
as she sank down on the has sock a,
his side.
"Yes," she said softly; at was
som sthing that poor man did aul sale
when he was bidding me good nigh
anl thanking me for the food ha,
placed before him."
, Robert Templeton was too mucl
engrossed with his own thoughts tt
/ reply to what Clarice was saying.
: "My child" he said, after a shor
, pause, sit is only right that yo'
, should hear what / am now about t,
. say. It is only right that the MAJ
who desires to make you his wife, ant
who is here tonight for my answer
l should know your history and mine.
, The young lovers gazed wondering
3 ly upon the speaker, and their hand
$ sought each Others instinctively.
; "History, sir! scarcely under
stand you," said Franklin. 81 know
! already that you, the most illustriou
architect of the time. were. in you
5 younger days, far poorer than yo,
D now are. Have you not told me Otter
l that your early struggles were fraugh
with privation? Your history, sir,
t one that rebounds to yonr credit"
az do not refer to the struggles O
) my youth, Harold; it is something
else-something which concerns Clar
, ice. 1t is this: Clarice is not IN
I daughter!"
!, The words were spoken at last.
"Not your daughter?" whispere
the girl, her face blanching deathl
q pale.
\ "Sit down again, my child, and liste
to my story. 1t is an old story
4 common theme for novelists, but tru
/ in my case:
"Two brothers fell in love with on
girl. One of the brothers is studiou