The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1900-11-17

startle the natives in the rar way
town during his enforced idleness. He
knew one crack-brained youth there
who readily Joined in the scheme and
secured for him the necessary intro
auctions. Rumors began to fly thick
and fast, that the young woman and
the erstwhile millionaire were living
in a far of city and-and there had
been no marriage ceremony whatever.
The fool did not get angry with her.
He heard it; oh yes, some of his
friends took pains that he should
know all about it. But he felt sorry
for her. The old love had given way
to pity; he knew just now she had
been duped and was afterwards power
less to return home, from whence she
would have been cast out, and still
more powerless to compel the man
who had deceived her to make repara-
ton:
Ore day the fooi got a letter dated
from q city in the far OF West. 1t was
a miserable, tear-stained scraw1 from
her. The end had come. She was
alone-deserted. She was sick and sad
and penniless. She begged the fool for
one line of forgiveness, for she could
not die without it, and die she would
for the disgrace, the shame, the self.
contempt were more than she could
stand-she had resolved to end it all
Her letter was a long one. She did not
make excuses, and had nothing to cffel
in e%xtenuation. but she saw the awful
mistake she had made.
The FOOLS month was up that even
ing. He drew his salary and went to
his lonely lodgings. He did not light
the lamp, but sat down in the dark
ness and silence to think over the dead
days-those when he had been happy.
He could remember her. bright and
innocent, and taking SO much delight
in the plans they laid for their future
life, the thousand and n ways' IL
which his heart tendrils tw.,ned about
everything in the least connected with
her.
Then he thought Of her as she was
and an ineffable pity came into his
soul and abided there. And her fate,
what was it to be-a plain pine coffin
ard a lonely. unmarked mound of clay
in the potter's field? The ci+v clock.
bUomed the hour Of twelve. Still he
sat and thought-and thought. What
good was his life anyway? No matter
how things went, 1e would have hir
cross to carry. The hours were tolled
by the clock, and the tomb-1ike chill of
approaching morning was in the air.
Even the cricket on the hearth had
ceased its lonely song, and the mice
had long since stopped. scamperinS
about the room and over his feet.
TIE gray dawn at, last broke. over
the wilderness of chimneys and roofs.
and found him with his head pillowed
upon his arms. and resting upon the
table. A tea. or two hao crept down
his face-the traces were still there.
He looked old, and wan, in the pallid
twilight, and his face was drawn and
haggard with silent suffering, but
there was q new light III his eyes.
II was almost FIVE o'clock. The
train for the West left at half past
lie paused, irrssolute. Then he threw
.some wearing apparel In a grip. He
wrote q short note to his employer
telling him that he was going away
to be married and would never return.
and as the first rays Of the rising U
gilded the great steeple upon the ca
thedral the train glided swiftly out to-
wards the distant city. The FOOLS
gaze remained upon the cross as long
as It was in sight. and then without
regret he took up the cross he had as
sumed. ssia