Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-09-16

| man and a ehaperoni"
"You are un All! madam" Charlotte cried
he has gone to meet the Judgment Of his
Maker Your aspersiens can only wound
the living-they cannot harm the dead. And
Mrs 10 due to an error 20 trivial as to be
scarcely worth an explanation. / am here
IN an honorable position and for an honor
"Humph! ob,ect-matrimony!" grunted
Aunt Maria, as she sailed majestically
down the path to the gate.
Ruth ran after her. her plain little face
Il am ashamed Of you. Aunt Maria; you
ought to be ashamed Of yourself; but l
don't suppose you have the grace to be
being a christianf II It Is, we'd better be
heathenl You are cruel. and worse than
that It;,; you are eowardiy. and I am ashamed
Aunt Maria only smiled grimly and pass
ed out through the gate to the carriage.
Miss Updyke had stood silent as one pet
riled, then turning suddenly she fed to her
threw herself face downward upon a couch.
her slight frame writing in an agony Of
humiliation. The merciless scourge Of Aunt
Maria's parting words had revealed her
| own heart to her. She loved Gordon Blair
she knew it now; but how dreadful to
have the veil torn from her beautiful Sc
cret by such coarse and cruel handsl
Then terrible thought came to her-per-
| haps he thought Just as Aunt Maria did,
| He had seemed different lately-strangely
| preoccupied. And hadn't he been distant at
| times? She sat upright her cheeks burn
| Ing holly. She heard the sound of Cor
dons trap as he drove up the graveied' way,
| and then Ruth's excited voice as she poured
| forth the story in hot, tempestuous words.
But 1t wasn't what Aunt Maria said
| about her father that hurt Mrs. Updyke
| the most; it was something she said at the
| very last. something that I didn't quite I'M
derstand but it was about macaroni.'
hn, mo 20 mi or hnp hrn
Yes, she spoke of Directing to macaroni.
| You don't suppose lowering her voice eau
| tiously, that Mrs. Updyke is an Italian
| and Aunt Maria meant what she said as a
| slur-"
Can you tell me just how she said it,
Ruth?' trying to grope his way, mentally,
| out of the dark.
Ruth was silent, her mind evidently bent
| on an earnest endeavor to recall the exact
| information. Charlotte prayed that the child
might not be able to repeat the words, but
Ruth began to speak again.
'It was like this she said slowly: Mrs.
Updyke said she was here for honorable
purpose, and Aunt Maria said, .Humph!
| Object macaronin You see Gordon with
| grammar school wisdom, Aunt Maria
| placed the accent on the wrong syllable in
| object but you know Aunt Maria is very
| peculiar"
MN. yes" assented Gordon; It was
| plain that he understood Aunt Maria's re-
| mark very clearly now. Yes, Ruth, she is
| very peculiar"
There was moments silence and then
| Ruth's voice sounded again in angry sur
| prise. Was that all he could say? she de-
manded. Couldn't he say that Mrs. Up
dyke was perfectly lovely, and just as sweet
| as she could be, and that Aunt Maria was
| horrid, perfectly horrid. And wasn't an
| Italian-a nice Italian, not just the com
| mon sort that peddIed bananas, but one
| that made you think of art and romance,
and paintings, and statuary, and Rome. and
| the Vatican, and everything that is good
and beautiful and true-Ruth was sturdily
loyal, though somewhat vague to Italian
| suggestions. And l say" she continued
| breathlessly, II say that that kind is just
as good any old American any day."
| At any other time Charlotte might have
smiled at the incOherence of Ruth's vehe-
| ment defense; now she only strained every
| nerve to hear Gordon's reply, but there was
| none. She heard his step upon the piazza,
! and his entrance into the library below.
| Then she realized with a shock of shame
| that she had consciously listened to con-
| yerSation not intended for her ears.
| II have fallen low, indeed" she muir
| INJURED bitterly.
| She rose determinedly. There was but
| one course open to her-immediate depart
ure. Without preface or explanation, she
announced her intention.
| Il will make no effort to detain you
said, quietly, coldly, the girl thought.
| Miss Updyke,' she corrected; you have
| called me Mrs from the beginning, and
It seemed of so little Importance that 1 did
! Yes" he said, absently. sit didn't at all
| signify. If you will give me your address,
Miss Updyke. 1 will send you a check for
| the amount due you.
That was all Not word of regret at her
| sudden departure no expression of respect
to sooth the hurt of his relatives cruel
| words.
Until I secure a school l shall be In
| South Duxbury with old friend of my
! mothers. Letters addressed there will
| reach me-
| The calm even tones gave no hint of the
| struggle within.
II wish you success, Miss Updyke," pleas
| antly
Thank you. Mr.. Blair: good afternoon
Good afternoon, Miss Updyke," adding
| courteously, Il have ordered the carriage
| placed at your disposal. and 1t will be
ready at whatever hour you name"
She could only bow in reply; speech was
no longer possible; and with gentle dignity
she passed from the room.
To Gordon Blair the summer had brought
sweet and beautiful revelation. The
almost motherly care and tenderness with
which Miss Updyke, hardly more than
girl herself, had watched over the mother
less girls. had given him daily cause for
thanksgiving. The wholesome sweetness
of her character had deepened into love
and admiration that her bright originality
and her beauty had excited at their first
meeting.
He paced the spacious library with quick,
impatient strides. The words that fell
from his lips were mingled maledictions,
expressions of admiration and terms Of en-
dearment
Talk about mans inhumanty to man.,
he exclaimed wrathfully. Why didn't
they say woman's inhuman1ty to woman!
And isn't Charlotte superbly proud! L
glory in her-but | have eyes as we'll as
Aunt Maria-though, thank heaven, m
not afflicted with strabismus-and / know
Ye gods, how can l wait until tomorrow!
In the train speeding toward the old
friend whose home was always to her a
haven of rest, Charlotte Updyke sat with
firmly compressed lips and hot, dry eyes.
She would not cry-only weak, silly girls
cried! She would scorn to weep for man
who had no thought of her He had not
said goodbye; he did not even offer his
hand in parting. That was rude! A dull
fierce red burned in her cheeks.
"A gentleman to see you Charlotte
dear" said her old friend at an absurdly
early hour the next day; che did not give
his name-a school superintendent, per-
haps"
"How fortunate" Charlotte murmured
thankfully. I'D be willing to go even to
Sadfeld."
She entered the room with an air of well
come but the words of greeting died upon
her lips when Gordon Blair rose to meet
her.
She could not speak. and she seemed not
olx-I bow