Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-11-25

swelled? He only realized she was like
no woman he ever had known; that she
thrilled and bewitched him: that he was
needless of everything but her sweet pres
ence.
Then Weston came-and his eyes were
opened.
He met them one morning on the beach.
Weston had come on from Boston to spend
Sunday with her. She bowed with exceed
ing warmth and Weston looked at him
curiously. saying something in a low voice.
Suddenly a deep resentment against ev-
erybody and everything filed Burrows
heart. Weston was talked of for the Har-
ward eleven and Burrows knew something
of him and of his habits of life; yet because
of his wealth society condoned them. Bur-
lows jaw was set and he pushed the cata-
maran out with vicious jerk. The con-
seriousness of his irritating position and
his poverty was strong upon him and he
hated Weston He determined to throw
over the whole thing Then he squared
his shoulders in the effort to prove 1t was
nothing to him if pair of wide-open gray
eyes looked kindly at the prospective Har-
ward tackle.
He had believed he had wished himself
out OF 1t. but his heart was curiously heavy
that night as he threaded his way among
the gay, chattering groups on the hotel
piazza for the last time
She stood alone in a quiet corner and
when she saw him her eyes lighted and
smile.
i thought perhaps, you weren't coming
she said
I'm not" he returned This is Just a
goodbye I've found man to take my
place, and l leave at midnight" He tried
to speak lightly. but there was a queer,
tight feeling in his throat This, then was
the intangible thing he had been lodging;
something more powerful than he had ever
expected to reckon with.
Goodbye" The color faded from her
face. She had been scarcely aware that she
M
company yet the thought of his departure
left her woefully desolate. Would she ever
see him again2 She looked at him beseech-
fngly InstinctiVely she held out her hands
and he caught them tightly In his own
Don't look like that he said almost
Hereby You know l want to stay. You
know He caught himself desperately
He was leaving the woman he loved. Loved I
And he had no right to think of her; no
right to accept the sweet surrender of her
evas.
1t was insupportable. He forced himself
to conventionalities ana with a few hurried
words-what, he never knew-he left her
and found himself striding blindly, rapidly
along the deserted beach He ragged at the
conditions that bound him. He could not
ask her to share so uncertain a future vet
his hesitation had seemed preposterous. He
could not hope she would understand it.
And not understanding, how could she for
give?
The Saturday before Thanksgiving dawned
bright and glorious, a crisp, clear autumn
day.
Since early morning train after train had
pulled into New Haven station and dis
charged its load of foot ball enthusiasts
The golden sunlight shone through the in
terlacing boughs of the old elms upon
waving sea of blue and crimson. Crowds
of prettily gowned women and excited
youths hurried toward the scene of the
great game; the shouts of noisy rooters
echoed through the frosty air; horns
brayed: fervent cheers for "Old Harvard"
mingled with resonant cries of yale, Yale
The whole town thrilled with excitement
Carrying the blue and crimson colors and
forest of tin horns, the crowd pushed into
the grounds, filling the stands to overflow
ing.
"Elliotts people, commented an enthu-
siastic Boston man, as a party entered a
box on the Harvard side. The girl, who
was plainly for Harvard from the soft
crimson folds of her trig gown to the GRIM
son wings on her smart hat, did not imme-