Iowa state bystander. [volume] (Des Moines, Iowa) 1894-1916, 1900-09-07
'.,Myra, / think your conduct needs

cares for anybody but himself--a rover
on the face Of the earth; he is here to-
day, and away tomorrow, having
faith in no one, caring for no one but
himself"
"Philip" came reproachfully from
Myras lips, but he turned away with
q frown, left the room and went in
search Of Justin Seymour
1t was evening of the same day.
Miss Blaine, am going away to-
morrow morning, too early to see you,
50 l will say goodbye now"
The book Myra had been reading
fell from her hands, her heart seemed
to rise to her throat and suffocate her
as Justin Seymour hurriedly entered
the room and, making his way over to
her side, uttered the above words.
1t was true, then, what Philip had
said. This man would never care any
thing for her; he was here to-day and
away tomorrow.
Myra struggled for composure.
"This is quite unexpected, Mr.. Sey'
lllUuE. AODC VIC 1lttN Sh AohSN ~
make your visit here a pleasant onc?"
said Myra, looking straight before her.
Miss Blaine, if it will give you any
pleasure to know it, am leaving your
happy home a far better man than
was when l entered it."
Myra lc~ked up quickly and met the
dark eyes of Justin Seymour fixed ten
derby upon her
"Oh, 1 am so glad, Mr.. SEYMOUR"
she cried in her old, impulsive, ear
nest manner, and, laying her hand
upon his arm, she continued: II may
never again see you in this world Mr..
Seymour, but I hope you will live so
that I shall meet you there" she
was going to add, "where we will
know no more partinc."
"Good-bye, Myra," was all the an
swer he made her.
His voice was husky. For moment
he held her hand in his, and the next
Myra was alone.
NIyra sat in daZed state where he
left her. Again she heard him call her
Myra, again she felt his hand trem-
ling like a leaf. And this man cared
nothing for her.
A year passed away. Myra Blaine
was visiting an aunt in distant vii
lage.
1t was Sunday, and she sat in the
village church by her aunt's side, sat
electrified, listening to that rich, pow
erful voice that led the village choir.
Surely, there was but one owner for
that voice.
'.Who is it that leads the singing,
aunt?" said Myra, carelessly, after SER
vices, as she walked across the church
yard with her aunt.
81 1T is Mr.. Seymour. Do you like his
singing? All, s4s 81
ss::I think~I know Mr.. Seymour" said
Myra, instead of answering her aunts
question. Has he lived here long?'
"I'his is his native place. He was
away from here quite while, though.
He must have sowed his wild oats
while he was away, for since he came
back he is a changed man. There is
his mothers grave
Myra paused before the handsome
monument which her aunt pointed out,
on which was inscribed that simple,
but most beautiful Of all names, "My
Mother"
Il will remain here a little while,
aunt" said Myra, and her aunt left
her.
How long she stood there leaning
against the railing she didn't know.
She was reused by the sound of foot
step Oh the gravel walk near her. She
was not in the least surprised, but he
drew back as if doubling his eyesight.
Myra held out her hand.
MIR. Seymour, this is, indeed.
strange meeting"
Mrs. Aymer," was all he said, as
he took her proffered hand.
"My name is not Mrs. Aymer; am
still Myra Blaine" said Myra, smiling.
you are not Mrs. Aymer" cried
Justin, his eyes beaming with delight.
Before l babe you goodbye that even
ing year ago Philip told me that you
were to be his wife in few weeks"
philip Aymer told all untruth. l
was nothing to him that night. The
engagement between him and me was
broken that morning." said Myra, with
downcast eyes and blushing cheeks.
He took courage from the expression
of her face. Her hand was still i'll
his, and he put his arm about her now.
"Myra, here at my mothers grave,
let me tell you that it was because l
loved you that left you so abruptly
that evening. I could not stay to see
YOU his wife"
'And it was because 1 loved you a
year ago that I refused to marry him.
said Myra, softly.
And at last her pure love was crowned
with happiness.-NewY York News.
Chimpanzee With History.
The geological garden at Cincinnati,