Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1903-04-25

ella, l Will never go from you II Won
Will ask me toremain!' she would have
given her whole life into his keeping
and followed him to the earth's end for
the love of him. But how was he to
know all that? All he saw was a wo-
man who quickly recovered from
momentary confusion, and he said:
lou must excuse me; l came to see
your rather. l am very anxious to see
MIN ana shall be under obligations to
you If he can come down to Hope
House as soon as he returns"
be turned and walked out into the
hail. where he turned again toward her
and gravely bowed
GOOD evening"" he said coldly. he
said it coldly because his heart was
beating so fiercely that he was afraid
TO Detray his emotions. She did not
say word, only looked at him as he
slowly walked to the door. AS he
opened 1t she said in a whisper, ."John!'
He never heard. Is love then both
blind and deaf? Yea; it is sometimes,
when the lovers are both high spirited,
strongly Individual and sensitive And,
alas Tor John Gordon, he neither saw
nor heard. and walked out into the
night, wretched at heart and cast down
In his emotions. When he was gone,
Lucia laid her head again on her arms,
and when Mr.. Penrose little later
sent In his card she excused herself
from seeing him owing to illness. 1t
was the world old illness, which love
creates when it is baftled, buffeted, dis
honored or misunderstood.
John Gordon had not been back to
Hope House ten minutes when Will
l1ams called him up and said that Bar
ton was conscious amy had called for
his friend. Gordon 1t .nce went out
and was soon by Barton's side.
The nurse and doctor and Harris
+ were there and Gordon knew that Bar
tons hour had come. The first word
that Barton spoke was a request that
he be permitted to talk to Gordon alone.
The others went into the next room,
and Gordon kneeled and put his hand
on that Of his friend.
"John." Barton whispered in his old
| whimsical manner, "the old cough is
like daily paper, it has the last word
No use to reply or explain. The editor
can get back at you in the next num-
Der. I'm done for as the pancake said
when 1t was turned over"
| He stopped and with great effort
raised up little. Gordon supported
him.
There, feel a little easier. I never
wanted to die lying down. What
wanted to say, John, there are two let
tiers, love letters, John, from the old
lady. dillingham;, you remember. They
are in my desk. Read them when I
am gone. The second one only came
this morning. don't know what is in
1t. But you-open-and read it."
| Gordon was crying He could not
keep back the tears Of affection. His
love for Barton was almost like that
OF the love between man and woman.
! Don't cry, John. What's the differ
ence? There's one thing-I hope-you
and Luella-the coughs going to get
me. Don't let people look at me. I'm
not handsome man as l used to be-.
There's one thing
The voice sank, and yet even in that
last struggle the change from his ap-
parent flippancy to the profoundest
seriousness was like the change from
sun to shade. Zone thing, John. Once
you said never loved any one. I've
LETT some books and things to Hope
House. There's money enough to bury
me-d1rections in desk-don't have q
procession over mile long," The
voice came back to it's seriousness
again. "You said never loved any
one-Grace Andrews under
stand The eye spoke the rest. And
| In the tumultuous grief that flooded
John Gordon's soul he filed in the
| broken gaps of that sorrowful but
! fragrant romance. The voice was a
whisper when it spoke again. mo use,
don't tell her-only add to her burden
God bless her-best woman in this city
| -she''-
The voice went out altogether, and
John Gordon realized that the spirit
| of that brave heart would soon cease
from all the earth's struggles. He
summoned the doctor again and the
! nurse and Harris came in. There was
nothing to do. Gordon held his hand
as the night deepened. Near midnight
he rallied and whispered to Gordon,
| with a smile: II love you, John. Good
BY"
At 2 o'clock his spirit quietly went
out like child falling asleep, and
Gordon rose and passed into the other
room, trying to realize what all this
meant, a richer man for this expert
ence Of human friendship, but poorer
man for the loss out of his earth strug-
gle Of one of the bravest, tenderest,
truest souls his manhood would ever
| know.
Dear David!' he said and let the
tears flow unrestrained. "Your hope
less love story. Hopeless? Did ever
man love a woman like Grace Andrews
without ennobling himself?" And when
little later he went in and saw the
cold, pale face he thought he could see
there the triumph Of loves great work
In the glory which it always leaves
with humanity, for as long as the