The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1899-10-17
Margaret's Lover.

AuHt -FTues now proud you must nave
felt when you won that 500 prize in your
first story competition. 1 wonder what
you did with all that sudden wealth
Il have never yet told any one what 1
first did with the money. Margaret" re-
piled Mrs Morris. ''but it can do no harm
TO tell the story now. It all happened ten
years ago.
AS I was on my way home with the
two crisp $50 bills in my pocket, / met a
young man who had been one OF my pu-
pl}s two or three years before. He was
quite favorite OF mine, and had known
his people for many years. On this day
he turned and walked with me, and I
soon guessed that he was in some reep
trouble. After, while 1 won the story
from him. He had been specializing in
stocks and had borrowed unknown to
his employers, a hundred dollars of the
firms money. He had lost, and in de-
spair at being unable to refund the
money, had forged his uncle's name to a
check, which, however. he had not yet
found courage TO present for payment.
We'll, the end Of 1t was that the crisp
500 bills in my possession changed hands,
the forged check was destroyed. and
Charlie left me. with broken words of
thanks and few earnest promises for
the future"
did he ever repay YOU the money.
auntie%'
Eyes, he paid 1t all back in a few
months. believe he has always lived an
honest, upright life since, and I have
| never regretted the first investment of my
prize money"
short time later as Margaret Rimmer
was on her way home, she heard a Deep
manly voice say, Good afternoon, Miss
Margaret" and Professor Hay fell into
step by her side.
L have just been calling on my Aunt
Prudence" said Margaret, as they walked
on slowly. Il have spent delightful
afternoon reading some of her old stories
You know she won a hundred-dollar prize
once with one of her first stories"
Yes, I remember" said the professor,
somewhat absently, looking down as he
spoke at q few fluffy curls that escaped
from beneath the brim of his companion 5
hat. II remember that met your aunt
on the day that she received the prize,
and she allowed me to walk part OF the
wa yhome with her. You know she was
my teacher in the old high school"
No l did not know it, replied Marga-
ret slowly, with a shock of surprise. To
herself she was repeating with a sick
heart. This is the end of auntie's story;
his name is Charles Hay, and It was he
who walked home with auntie that day.
He must never know that I know" She
forced herself to take some part in the
conversation, trying to put aside for the
time the thought Of what this knowledge
must mean to her, that she could never
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that the sweet fancies that had OF late
begun to come to her, of a dearer friend
ship between them, must be resolutely
crushed out. No, it could never be just
the same again.
When, | few days later, Mr. Hay called
on Margaret, and in few manly words
told her of his love, Margaret gently, but
decidedly refused his offer. She would
give him no reason, except that It could
never be. No, she cared for no one else
but 1t could never be. So the professor
went sadly away, and Margaret, with pale
face and eyes dim with unshed tears,
sought her room.
Four hours that night Margaret Rim
mer lay awake and wrestled with the
problem-was it fair to condemn the man
of 80, honest, respected, who had won his
place in the world, for the folly and sin of
ten long years ago? Had he not nobly
redeemed the past? But, STILL how could
she respect him as she might II she had
never heard that wretched story? A for
ger thief. No, she could never trust
her life's happiness to one whom she
could not reverence as nobler, greater,
than herself.
Margaret was calling on her aunt few
days later, when Mrs. Morris remarked:
'By the way, you remember the story I
told you about the young man whom I
helped out of trouble with my prize
money!"
yes" said Margaret, family, wonder
ing what was to come.
HE called on me yesterday, and brought
me a photograph of his two children"
His children!' exclaimed Margaret.
'EYes, he is married, and has lovely
wife and a pretty little home"
Margaret listened as If in a dream.
"Then-then it was not Mr.. Hay?" she
stammered.
''Mr. Hayl No, indeed. Charles Hay is
the soul of honor Why, what in the
world made you connect him with this
story?"
HE said he walked home with you on
the day you received the prize money.
And no said he was one of your old pu-
pills
Mrs. Morris looked puzzled. 'I may
have met him that afternoon, and he may
have walked part of the way home with
me. but-why, Margaret!'
For the girl had thrown herself down
beside her aunt and, with her face hidden
in the folds Of Mrs Morris gown, was
half sobbing and half weeping.
The older woman patted the girls
bowed head while her face lit UP with
sudden understanding.
The next time Margaret met the pro-
fessor she smiled on him so sweetly that
the poor man was bewildered. They met