Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1899-11-30

! ~ Ou hOb " iuili my lHlo
misery by refusing to share this money
with me. But you will not, know you
will not; and if we had nothing else, we
should still have each other, and what
more could we ask?
SIN some respects, I know you
better than you know yourself; and |
I know that if you can have your health
you will yet win place among those
who have fought their way into the
dear, and let me share the battle and
the triumph with you. Come back to
US if you are well enough, and if you are
not, please let me come to you
Protheroe heard something between
a groan and an imprecation, and he
| stopped and waited for Philip to come
| up. Did you say anything?" he asked.
Nothing worth repeating; I think 1
was tempted to swear little at the
crookedness of things IN general. wish
| that cursed horse that threw me had
broken his neck or mine, or both"
"Does your ankle hurt?"
Everything hurts"
| Protheroe did not attempt to drive
the conversational nail any farther
| He was preoccupied with his own con-
Germs, and he had been trying to deter
mine what he should do when he
reached Duncan's. Would his part in
the affair be ended when he had seen
| Thorndyke safe in the house of his
| friends? or would he be expected to
| help his rival in the fight with the com
pany? How would Elsie receive him
after his late transgression How could
| he endure to meet her in the presence
| of the man she loved?
They were troublesome questions,
| but the engineers perplexities were as
serenity itself compared with the
tumult of conflicting emotions which
had slain the peace of mind of his com
panion. Before he had read three lines
of Helen's letter, Thorndyke was sink
ing into the neither depths of self-abase-
ment; and when he had finished it he
felt that it would be a comfort if he
could get down into the road and strew
dust upon his head. This was the love
| he had put aside for the sake of mere
| impulse born of a sick mans fantasies;
| CiiS hbC Solu tHdI ue Udu tossed con-
| temptuously into melting-pot heated
| blythe remainder of the simile was
| drowned in a submerging wave of self
| contempt. And now, at this present
| moment, when he was cursing his reck-
| less Inconsistency, and wishing from the
| bottom of his heart that he had had the
| decency to die quietly in the odor of
good faith, she had his letter and she
had learned at hisown hands upon what
broken reed her love had been leaning.
After the storm came the calm of
| desperation. He had wrecked Helens
| life and his own, and Elsie's happiness
| trembled in the balance. He could at
| least save Duncan's daughter, and in
| the riot of distracting thoughts this
| was the only one that offered a grain of
| comfort. He would expiate his folly
| by devoting himself, body and soul, to
| the task of making Elsie as happy as
| she deserved to be. And he would
| speak to her as soon as he could find
the opportunity he had the
time to sink still deeper in the mire of
fickleness, he told himself, bitterly
BY the time ThorndyKe had reached
! this conclusion, Protheroe was leading
| the horse down the trail on the Little
| Chiwassee side of the mountain, and an
hour after dark the small procession
stopped at Duncan's gate.
you're heavier than you used to be;
don't think you're going to die of
| consumption, said Protheroe remem-
| bering another time when he had
helped Philip dismount at the farmers
gate.
mo; more's the pity" reioined
Philip. ungraciously at would be bet
| ter on all accounts if should"
As not infrequently happens when
| The probable course of events has been
| carefully prefgured, nothing came
| about during the evening to verify
| Protheroe's fears or TO add to Thorn
dykes misery. They were all unfeign-
eddy glad to welcome both of the wan
derers; and while Mrs. Duncan was
| principally concerned in doctoring
Philips ankle, Elsie tried to induce the
young engineer to lay aside the shroud
Of reserve which he conceived to be the
| proper penitential garment for the oc-
| casion. How had he found Mr.. Thorn
dyke? Had he ridden far? How had
they ever managed to get down the
| mountain with the horse? Weren't
they both dreadfully hungry? These
and many more questions Protheroe
had to answer, and at length he was
obliged, for very shame's sake, 20 com
| pei himself to be oblivious to that
which Elsie was so evidently bent upon
| 'gnoring.
And neither that night nor the next
| morning before they left for Allacoo-
| ,hee did either Of the Young men find
an opportunity for private speech with
The girl; though Thorndyke abused
himself, as was his wont. for not having
made one, and Protheroe went away
, leaden-hearted because he had been de-