The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-07-20

u VI Oh SO0A
cess" she said. Far as we are away from
everything here at st. Mabyn your fame
has reached US"
Fame" he repeated, bitterly.
Eyes. Your life in London must be very
interesting. I take a literary paper. and 1
often notice your doings. You must be
very happy amidst such surroundings"
IL should not have thought you would
have found time to read literary papers,"
he said.
st do find it difficult. Ny boys, as you
saw, are very human and take a great deal
Of time"
VERY human replied Victor.
Then, of course, one has other work"
"Yes." replied Victor. and then there was
an awkward silence between them.
Are you staying long in St. Mabyn?" she
asked presently.
mo, not long; I can't bear it-that is, l
shall get off somewhere tomorrow or the
day after"
80 soon?"-and he thought he detected
a note of disappointment in her voice.
Eyes, yes-that is"
II suppose you live a busy life; ut-bu
/ am sure mother would like to see you be-
fore you go. You remember mother?"
"Oh. yes. perfectly. 1 ~think-yes, 1 should
like to see your mother"
Gould you not come and see her to-
morrow"
81 am a~fraid-that is-yes, 1 might come
tomorrow. 1 suppose she lives with"
A the same old place. Yew Cottage,
you remember it. She will be delighted TO
see you"
'~Could-that is, 1 suppose you could come
over too?'
What do you mean?"
cit. is some distance from Tregargus
Farm, and / thought that-"
''Tregargus Farm. 1 don't understand"
"Tregargus Farm; that is where you live,
isn't it? l saw your husband this morn
ing"
Husband! / have no husband"
WHAT"
His head whirled. and for a moment he
thought he should have fallen.
II was told you were married to George
Coad," he managed to stammer at length.
George Coad!' she replied. II never
dreamt Of such a thing"
In a second life became new to him.
Why. he could not explain; but everything
was changed. Was it possible after all
that Ruth Enedor. she who stood before
him now, was free? Was it possible that
he might win her?
He longed to stay by her side. longed
to ask her further questions; but he could
not. He must get away by himself.
Il have made a dreadful mistake" he
said, but I will call at Yew Cottage to-
morrow afternoon, if l may?'
But he did not wait until the afternoon.
Directly after he had b~reakfaseed he
started eagerly for Ruth's house, his heart
now afame with hope, and again crushed
by fear. He had learnt from Betty Pen
rose that the girl whom George Coad had
married. while called Enedor. did not be-
long to st. Mabyn parish at all. but had
come from St. Issy, while the boys of whom
she had charge were not those he had seen,
but were really the children of a cousin
who had sent them to her to spend their
summer holidays.
When he came to Yew Cottage. he was
admitted by a trim servant. who showed
him into a room which was evidently used
as a library.
81 will tell Mrs. Enedor that you are here,
sir" the maid said. as she left him alone.
II think. perhaps, 1 had better see Miss
Enedor.' stammered Victor, nervously.
But whether the maid heard him. he did
not know.
He looked around the room, and in a
small bookcase he saw a complete set Of
his works. She had thought of him. then;
she had bought every book he had written.
Oh, if he had knownl He opened the vol
umes one by one, Yes. they had evidently
been carefully read. This he knew by
$50 rrs.o o-l ,-lz-Is--l
A minute later Ruth entered alone.
Mother will be here in a few minutes"
she said; but we did not expect you so
soon. 1 hope you've not come this morn
ing to say that you cannot come this eve-
ming"
THAT will all depend on you" he replied.
She looked at hin questioningly. II do
not understand" she said.
Whereupon he told her his story. Told
her how he had loved her through the
years, and how on the day he had published
his first volume of poems he had received
the news that she had married George
Coad.
But you did not believe it?" she cried.
"Yes; L believed it"
after you had sent me-me-that is,
after you had told me you-you-"
Did you know it was II"
She nodded her head and he saw a glad
look in her eyes.
Then why did you not answer?'
How could /? Just think, how could /
write to you, and say-well, what you tell
me you wanted me TO say, when l might
have been mistaken? Supposing it had not
been your
81 know I've been a FOOL cried Victor,
but tell me, Ruth, tell me that there is
some chance for me. I've loved you all my
Observation-Disclosures tell me, Ruth"
For a few seconds there was a silence be-
tween them; then she said, almost with
sobs:
I've never thought of another man,
Victor-how could L? You-you told me
you loved me-"
"And you have loved me?"
Always"
The light Of a great joy shone in his
eyes, but it Immediately became dim.
But you don't know ALL" he said; you
don't know that in my madness L married
q woman of the world, a creature without
a heart or conscience"
Yes, l knew that you had married.; 1
saw it in the papers, and it nearly killed
me. But l could never think of another
man. How could I, when | loved your"
Heaven forgive me-" cried Victor Ire
mayne. For years I have raved about the
6ckleness of woman's love. while all. the