The Minneapolis journal., 1902-08-21
Chapter xv.-Continued.

CnApteF At.-COn11nucO.
And, except for the release from pain, he
rejoiced less and less in his recovery. He
tedious sickness of his child
hood and how beautiful he had thought the
world, when he began to get we'll, how elec-
trio tho open air blowing In at the window,
how green the smile of earth, and how g!ori-
GUS to live and see the open day again. He
had none Of that feeling now. No pretty Wis
ion came again near his bed, and he beheld
his convalescence as mistake. He had come
to a jumping-off place in his life-why had
they not let him jump? What was there left
but the weary plod, plod, and dust of years
- He could have gone back to Carlow in
better spirit If it had not been for the few
dazzling hours Of companionship which had
transformed 1t to paradise, but, gone, left
desert. She, by the sight OF her, had made
him wish to live, and now, that he saw her
no more, she made him wish to die. How
little she had cared for him, since she told
him she did not care, when he had not meant
to ask her. He was weary, and at last he
longed to find the line of least resistance and
follow it; he had done hard things for long
time, but now he wanted to do something
easy. Under the new genius-who was al
ready urging that the paper should be made
a daily-the Herald could get along without
him. and the "White-Caps'' would bother
Carlow no longer; and he thought Kidge Hal
loway, an honest man, II dull one, was sure
to be renominated for congress at the dis
trict convention which was to meet at Platt-
Vile in September-these were his RESPONSE
bilities, and they did not fret him. Every
thing was all right. There was only one
thought which thrilled him. his impression
that she had come to the hospital to see him
was not deluson; she had really been there
as a humane, Christian person, he said tc
himself. One day he told Meredith of his
vision, and Tom explained that it was nc
conjuration Of fever.
But I thought she'd gone abroad" said
Harkless, staring.
They had planned to- answered his friend
''They gave it up for some reason. Uncle
Henry decided that he wasn't strong enough
for the trip, something
"Then-i she-is she here?'
mo; Helen Is never here in summer
When she came back from Plattvile, she
went north, somewhere, to join people
she had promised, think" Meredith had a:
yet no inkling or suspicion that his adopt
ed cousin had returned to Plattville. Wha
he told Harkless was what his aunt had tolt
him, and he accepted it as the truth.
Mrs. Sherwood (for she was both Mr.. ant
Mrs. Sherwood) had always considered Fisbe
an enlgmatic rascal, and she regarded Helen
| detection to him in the light of famil,
scandal to be hushed up, we'll as a scald
| ing pain to be borne. Some day the unkin
girl-errant would return to her wisdom an
| her duty; meanwhile, the less known abou
| 1t the better.
| Meredith talked very little to Harkless o
| his cousin, beyond lightly commenting on tn
| pleasure and oddity of their meeting, an
| telling him of her friendly anxiety about hi
recovery; he said she had perfect contidenc
| from the first that he would recover. Hark
| less had said word or two in his delriur
| ood ND
once sudden brow of suffering, and a diff
| ference Meredith felt in Helen's manner whe
| they stood together by the sick mans bed
side, had given the young man a stron
| impression, partly intuitive, that, in spite c
| the short time the two had known each Other
| something had happened between them q
Plattville, and he ventured guess which wa
| not far from the truth. Altogether, the thin
| was fairly plain-a sad lover is not so har
| to read-and Meredith was sorry, for the
| were the two people he liked best on earth
| Ihe young man carried his gay presenc
| daily to the hospital, where Harkess no
| lay In a pleasant room of his own, an
he tried to keep his friend CHEEKY, whic
| was an easy matter on the surface for tn
journalist turned ever mask Of jokes upo
him; but it was not hard for one who like
him as Meredith did to see through to tn
melancholy underneath. After his one refe,
ence to Helen, John was entirely silent of he
and Meredith came to feel that both woul
be embarrassed if occasion should rise an
even her name again be mentioned betwee
them.
He did not speak of his family connectio
with Mr.. Fisbee to the invalid for althoue
the connection was distant. the old man wa
In way, the family skeleton, and Merecit
mad a strong sense of the decency of r,
serve in such a matter. There was one thin
Fisbees shame had made the old man unab
not to suppress when he told Parker b
story the wrath Of a torrid palate had pui
sued him from his youth, and the days
drink and despair from which Harkless hs
saved him were not the first in his lf
Meredith wondered as much as did Harlle
where Fisbee had picked UP the Journalist
young relative' who signed his extreme
business-like missives in such thunderir
hand. 1t was evident that the old ma
was grateful to his patron, but it did n
occur to Meredith that Fisbee's daught
tude, one so strong that she could give 9
her youth strength to work for the man wi
had been good to her father.
There came a day in August when Mer
dith took the convalescent from the hospit
in victoria, and installed him in his ov
home. Harkless' clothes hung on his. b
} frame Imply; however, there was drift
light In his eyes as they drove slowly throus
the pretty streets of Rouen The bandag
and splints and drugs and swathings we
all gone now, and his sole task was to gath
| strength. The thin face was sallow no Ion
er; it was the color of evening shadows; il