The herald-advance. (Milbank, S.D.) 1890-1922, 1904-06-10
6bg III 1Y/ A Fascinating
OVI1J - Romance
WnD~ Alan Adair..

Uneasy about him. The thought OF
Ter pretty wifely solicitude, and how
today it might never be put to
test, overcame him altogether. To
feel that Joyce was living, and that
he must give her up, that they We're
both young and loving, and must go
on living apart forever. was too much
for him. "My God, help us to Dear it,"
it came back to him with
profound regret that he had never
thought OF Veronica at all; but he
could be thankful that he had seen her
and had not hated her.
He crept home slowly, like a wound
ed animal going to its lair. Home!
The very word hurt him. And he ana
Joyce had only this morning talked
Of buying the pretty house for their
summer residence. This morning was
it, or years ago Could it be only an
hour or SO since he left the station,
all u~nsuspicious of what was to befall
him?
For he had been unsuspicious. He
had entirely forgotten the woman who
he now easily identified as Veronica.
He had been happy as it is given to
few mortals to be happy. He groared
aloud as he opened the door which led
into the pretty hall. His throat was
dry; he could not call Joyce.
But she had evidently heard the
opening door, for she came out of the
morning-room, which they furnished
with the hangings they had bought
on the day he had seen Veronica. She
called gaily to him and a little re-
proachfully. "Oh, Alan, how late you
are, o naughty boy. And u ride
will you have tea first?"
He simply could not answer. 1t was
impossible; his tongue Glove to the
roof of his mouth, and his dry throat
could not articulate a sound.
ALAN" she called again, come
along, darling"
Il am coming" His voice was, how
| ever, SO mufled, in a moment she was
alarmed. She came running out to
him.
ALAN, Alan, what is it? Are you
ill, dearest?"
Her Inconsistencies almost killed
him, together with the thought that he
would have to tell her. Then she
came up to him and saw his face. In
an instant she knew that something
awful had occurred. Her jaw fell, and
she staggered up to him, putting out
her hand and feeling as if she were
blind. She was unconscious no longer,
for she remembered wildly the day
when he had turned SO white, and had
told her the reason afterwards as they
sat together at the hotel. Her quick
mind told her that his ashy greyness
and the misery on his face had some
thing to do with his dead wife. Hand
in hand they went together into the
pretty morning-roOm, into which the
sun was shining, and they sat down
speechless. A bird in a bush close by
set up it's joyous song. Nature was
full of gladness.
Then suddenly he wrenched his
hand out of hers and threw himself
headlong upon the couch. Sobs broke
from him and his shoulders heaved.
For a moment she let him weep, and
then she knelt down beside him and
flung her pretty, soft arms round his
neck, and pressed her cheek, down
which the tears were running, against
his, SO that their tears mingled to-
gether.
Tell me like this" she said. But
he could not speak, his grief was I'm.
comfortable. And so in whispers she
began: "It is something about your
wife, Alan-your first wife, l mean
poor Veronica"
He groaned, and an awful knowl
edge came to Joyce-a knowledge tha1
clutched her heart and made her very
being stand still. For a moment sht
saw nothing distinctly, heard nothing
distinctly, only felt Alan's tears upor
her cheek. Then. when the mis-
cleared away: rs she alive?" sht
whispered.
"Yes!" he cried.
"Alive? Oh, my poor heart! Alive
Your wife? And Il"
He sat up then and grasped hel
hands ip his. You, you!" he cried
Anu luC d6Ouy VI AiS VOASO SdhAO OoS'
to Joyce for years after. "You! Tv'
got to give you up, Joyce! You, thu
wife Of my heart. my own, my soul
You've got to be as nothing to. me
How can l do 1t"
II don't know" she said feebly
"And yet, Alan, we must"
do you think / don't know it," h
sried. do you think l would have yo1
live with me while my wife was Nv
ing? Do you think l should let on
person in this world point a finger o
scorn at you? Do you think I shoulI
let you soil your beautiful white sou
for me? Oh, Joyce. I love o too per
fectly for that, you are o dear to m
for that! I will say good-by to you
my own, and never look at your fac
again: but I will not let you live dis
graced. But the parting-the part
ing!"
Joyce's white face uplifted to his
Joyce's hands grasping his. Joyce
whole being suffused by love for him
| oud ho had IN pivo her mt Nh NOR,