Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1903-02-13

IL were, tnt priest ana cOn1eSSOr 10 Ill
Corners. But let one be touched in some
vital corner i'll ones nature, and the
high faultless impartiality is gone. In
proportion as Richards interest i'll Lali
had grown, the universal quality of his
sympathy had declined. Man is only
man. Not that his benefactions rs lord
bountiful in the parish had grown per-
functory, but the calm detail of his in
terest was not SO definite. He was the
same, yet not the same.
He was not aware Of any difference
in himself He did not know that he
looked younger by 10 years. Such is the
effect of mere personal sympathy upon
a mans look and bearing. When, there
fore, one bright May morning the fam
lily at Greyhope, himself excluded, was
ready to start for London, he had no
thought but that he would drop back
into his old silent life as it was before
Lali came and his brothers. child was
born. He was not conscious that he was
very restless that morning He scarcely
was aware that he had got up two
hours earlier than usual. At the break
fast table he was cheerful and alert.
After breakfast he amused himself in
playing with the child till the carriage
was brought round 1t was such morn
ing as does not come a dozen times q
year in England. The sweet moist air
blew from the meadows and up through
the lime trees with a warm insinuating
gladness The lawn sloped delightfully."-
away to the lowered embrasures Of the
park, and a fragrant abundance of
flowers met the eye and cheered the
senses. While Richard loitered on the
steps with the child and its nurse, more
excited than he knew, Lali came out
and stood beside him. At the moment
Richard was looking into the distance.
He did not hear her when she came.
She stood near him for moment and
did not speak. Her eyes followed the
direction of his look and idled tenderly
with the prospect before her. She did
not even notice the child. The same
thought was in the mind Of both-with
q difference. Richard was wondering
how any one could choose to change the
sweet dignity Of that rural life for the
flaring, hurried delights Of London and
the season. He had thought this thou
sand times, and yet, though he would
have been little willing to acknowledge
1t, his conviction was not SO impregna-
BILE as it had been.
Mrs. Francis Armour was stepping
from the known to the unknown. She
was leaving the precincts Of o life in
which, socially, she had been born again.
Its sweetness and benign quietness had
all worked upon her nature and origin ia
change her. In that it was an outdoor
life, full of freshness and open air Wig
or, 1t was not antagonistio to her past.
Upon this sympathetic basis had been
imposed the conditions Of o fine social
decorum. The conditions must still ex-
list. But how would it be when she was
withdrawn from this peaceful activity
Of nature and set down among those
garish lights" in Cavendish square and
Piccadilly2 She hardly knew to what
abe was going as yet. There had been a
few social functions at Greyhope since
she had come, but that could give her,
after all, but little idea Of the swing
and pressure Of London life.
At this moment she was lingering
over the scene before her. She Wa
wondering with the naive wonder Of a
awakened mind. She had intended
many times Of late saying to Richard
all the native gratitude she felt, YET
somehow she had never been able to say
It The moment Of parting had come.
"What are you thinking Of, Rich
ard?" she said now.
he started and turned toward her.
II hardly know" he answered. my
thoughts were drifting"
Richard" she said abruptly, 81
want to thank you"
THANK me for what, Lali?" he ques
toned.
ITO thank you. Richard, for every.
thing since I came, over three year.
ago."
He broke out into o soft little laugh
then, with his old good natured man
ner. caught her hand as he did the frs,
night she came to Greyhope, patted i,
In a fatherly fashion and said: ut Il
the wrong way about, LaH I ought t.
be thanking you; not you me. Why,
look, what a stupid old fogy 1 was then,
toddling about the place with too much
time ON my hands, reading a lot ant
forgetting everything, and here yor
came in, gave me something to do. made
the little know Of any use and ran {
pretty gold wire down the rusty fiddle
Of life II there are any speeches o.
gratitude to be made, they are mine
they are mine"
Richard" she said very quietly ani
gravely, II owe you more than I car
ever say-in English. You have taught
me to speak in your tongue enough fol
all the usual things Of life. but one car
only speak from the depths Of one'l
heart In ones native tongue And see, u
she added, with a painful little smile,
''how strange 1t would sound If wers
to tell you all thought in the Language
Of my people-of my people whom
shall never see again. Richard, can yor
understand what it must be to have {
father whom one is never likely to Sc,
again-whom il one did see again some
thing painful would happen? We grow
away from people against our will; w
feel the same toward them, but they
cannot feel the same toward us, fol
their world is in another hemisphere
We want to love them, and we love
remember and are glad to meet then
again, but they feel that we are unfa
miliar, and because we have grown diff
ferent outwardly they seem to mis-
some chord that used to ring. Richard
ET'- She paused.
"Yes, Lali, +" he assented, Eyes, I un
derstand You SO far, but speak out"
II am not happy" she said. "Inevel
shall be happy. l have my child. ant
that is all have. cannot 20 back Il
the life in which was born. I must z,
on as am, stranger among q strang'
people, pitied, suffered, cared for Lit
tle-and that is all. "
The nurse had drawn away littl,
distance with the child The rest Of tn,
family were making their preparation
inside the house. There was no ON,
near to watch the singular little drama
sYOr ch0u11 not oov fhof - ba aI1