The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1901-05-10
Continued from last week.
CHAPTER XVI

ed that was walking in dream and
waking would find me grabbing at my
desk III New York. 1t was so unreal
Tor these days-mosaic romance in the
heart Of prosaic fact! Was there ever
the likeF 1t was real enough, however,
In the daytime, when the roar Of Lon
don hammered at my tears, but when
l sat alone in my room it assumed the
hazy garments of dream. Sometimes
L caught myself listening for Hillars,
n footstep in the corridor, and | would
take my pipe from my mouth and wait
eXpectantly. But the door never open
ed. and the footsteps always passed on.
Often in my dreams stood by the riv-
er again. There is solace in these deep,
wide streams. We come and go-our
hopes. our loves. our ambitions. Ma
ture alone remains. Should | ever be-
hold Gretchen again? Perhaps. Yet
there was no thrill at the thought. If
ever | beheld her again, it would be
when she was placed beyond the glance
OF my eye, the touch of my hand. she
was mine-aye, as a dream might be;
something | possessed, but could not
AiOiu. iitlShO. iC luCtS lllul peer dl
us from the freight shadows! They
troop along in ghostly cavalcale, and
the winds that creep over the window
sill and under the door-who can say
that they are not the echoes Of voices
we once heard in the past?
l was often on the verge of sending
in my resignation. but | would remem-
Der in time that work meant bread and
butter-and forgetfulness. When | re-
turned to the office, few questions were
asked. though my assistant looked
many of them reproachfully. | told
him that Hillars had died abroad and
that he had been buried on the CONT
nent at his request. all of which was
true. but only half of it. | did my best
to keep the duel a secret. but it finally
came out. 1t was the topic in the
clubs, for Hillars had been well known
in political and literary circles. But in
a month or so the affair subsidized. The
world never stops very long, even
when it loses one Of its best friends.
One late October morning l received
a note which read:
John Winthrop:
Dear SIT am IN LONDON Tor n Few DAYS, nome
ward bound nom a trip to Egypt, and as we are
cousins and orphans, too" / should like the
pleasure of making your acquaintance Trusting
that shall find you at leisure, am, your humble
servant, PHILIP PEMBROKE
"Ah," said I, that Louisianian cous-
in of mine, who may or may not live
the year out" recalling the old law
yer's words. He seems to hang on
pretty well. / hope he'll be interesting
Few rich men are. He writes like 4
polite creditor. What did the old fel-
low say was the matter with him?
Heart trouble or consumption? l can't
remember" i threw the note aside
and touched up some of my dispatches.
Precisely at 10 o'clock the door open
ed, and q man came in. He was fash
ionably dressed, mixture of Piccadil-
ly and Broadway in taste. He was
tall, slender, but well formed, and his
blond mustache shone out distinctly
against a background of tanned skin.
He had fine blue eyes.
"Have | the pleasure Of speaking to
John Winthrop of New York; he be-
gan, taking off his hat.
i rose. AIN Tie ne pre-
scented his card, and on it l read, phil
Up Pembroke"
"Philip Pembrokev' I exclaimed.
Evidently you are surprised" show
ing set of strong white teeth.
"Truthfully am" l said, taking his
hand. you see" / added apologetical-
", "your family lawyer-that Isle
hn- m rraccinn that
were a sickly fellow-one foot in the
grave or something like. / was not ex-
pecting a man of your build"
The smile broadened into a deep
laugh, and a merry one, thought en-
viously. II was so long since l had
laughed.
''That was a hobby Of the old fell
low" he replied. when l was a boy,
/ had palpitation of the heart. He
never got rid of the idea that l might
die at any moment. He was always
warning me about violent exercises,
the good old soul. Peace to his ashes"
"He is dead"
eyes. When / took to travelling, he
all but had nervous prostration. l sup
pose he told you about that will l
made in your favor. 1t was done to
please him. STILL" he added soberly,
.it stands. l travel deal, and no one
knows what may happen. And so you
are the John Winthrop my dad treated
so stability? oh, don't protest; he did.
/ should have hunted you up long ago
and given you solid bank account,
only knew that the son of my aunt
must necessarily be a gentleman and
therefore would not look favorably UNI
on such proceeding"
"Thank you," said l. The fellow
pleased me.
"And then | did not know but what
you cared nothing for money"
"True. A journalist doesn't care
anything about money. The life is too
easy and pleasant, and most of the
things he needs are thrown in, as they
say"
This bit of sarcasm did not pass. Ny
cousin laughed again that merry laugh
of his.