Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-07-29

covered it to be locked and remembered
that her maid had the key.
They had set scene upon the stage, the
garden scene of "Haddon Hall. and weird
and cold and melancholy was its aspect IN
this morning light. To Evelyn it seemed as
an emblem OF those scenes of her girlhood
which she had forever quilted. The lone
illness OF her life, the pity of IL, the
quenched fires of ambiton-thoughts or
these came to her one by one and said
there is no longer hope in the world
Eta Romney, that daughter of passion
and the souls unrest, love had -.iiled her,
and never would she be reborn. There
stood In her place an Evelyn who believed
herself to be utterly alone. forsaken of all,
even of him who had taught her the su-
preme lesson of her being. For her father
she had an abiding pity. The harvest ne
had reaped had been of his own sowing;
but her affection for him rose above any
consideration of judgment and she accused
herself because she had left him in the
hour of trial For the rest the dreadful
story of the night remained her chief bur
den. To whom should she tell II; who
must be her confidant2 Should she run
Historically to the police, saying: 4 be
lieve that a crime has been committed in
an unknown house at hampstead? To
whose profit? The two men might have
met in fair fight according to the custom
found in the house by even the cleverest
detective after those hours had passed. She
knew not which would be the prudent
course. Her own despair spoke louder than
any claim of human justice.
The great MIR. lizard appeared at the tnea-
ter at IL o'clock. His first CHEEKY greeting
to her ended abruptly when he perceived
the state of distress into which she had
fallen her haggard eyes, her white
face the restIeSsness Of mood and quick
changing attitudes which betrayed her.
Miss Romney!' he exclaimed aghaSt,
ARE you Ill, my dear? Good God,
what has happened"
II cannot play today" she said. Il
am going to my home. Mr. lizard, 10 my
father. l shall never play in your theater
again. My acting days are done.
He saw that she was really III and would
not trouble her with any of the old argu-
ments His own carriage. he said, should
take her to the station. Her assurance that
she would go down to Derbyshire alone
troubled him. for ne was a big-hearted man,
as most of his kind. When Evelyn left
him she knew that she was leaving q
friend and how few friends has any
man or woman among u.s. Perhaps the
truth of this helped her upon her long
journey to Derbyshre. She was going TO
her father, to him who had loved her -
she was going to tell him every word
of that story and to say to him: Take me
to Gavin, let us go together and forget that
another has ever come between US" All
else in the world, its rewards, its prizes,
it's teachings seemed less to her than this
gospel of love now warming her heart 10
life and bidding her lock up. BY II should
peace come to him-to them both II Gavin
lived!
All, If Gavin lived How often by the
way did that voice of doubt cry the ques-
ton in her ears? AS a heavy cloud upon
the garden of her hopes so the thought re-
CURED and would not be put away. II
Gavin lived! Evelyn heard the words
wherever she turned; they were spoken TO
her upon the breezes of that winter day,
rolled out by the huuming wheels as the
train carried her northward, uttered by
unknown voices which compelled her 10
listen They followed her to Moretown;
they were with her when she dismissed the
hired carriage at the gates of Melbourne
Hall and set out TO walk across the park
toward her home. Her desire to enter the
house without observation or effusive wei
come was in great part the fruit OF her
thoughts. She must be alone; she must
have the full command OF herselt before
she told her father the true story Of yester-
night.
The sun had set upon a glorious winter s
tsay-a day of clear skies and bright scenes
and fresh invigorating breezes: NOW when
eve fell the west wind ebbed away with
the hours and left a twilight deeply stu
and beautiful. Not branch OF the leaf
less trees stirred in all that vast park about
Melbourne Hall. Wide vlstas OF giaae anu
avenue might have known no human foot
since their story began. The deer browsed
or moved with step so light that the quick
est ear could not detect H. TO Evelyn IL
fnattered not whether she trod the park at
dawn or dusk Every landmark seemed as
her own possession. Here was the dell where
in long ago she had played Di Vernon's part
to the summer skies; there the arbor 70
which she had carried the roulances upon
which her young imagination Toasted. Far
away dark and gray between the trees,
stood her home, offering her SO chill well
come that her heart sank YEARLY and tears
came to her burning eyes. How IL her
father also had left her; IL she found the
great house empty and the gates OF IL
shut Such an end to her journey was not
inuossibIe: but the dread OF It was in itself
a heavy sorrow.
To be alone even at the gates OF her
home Yes, 1t might be that. Standing
upon the little bridge that spanned the
river she listened TO its melancholy song
and echoed 1t in her heart Alone, II said
the dream lived, love lost. the world empty.
What mattered 1t now that Gods proyi-
dence had saved her yesternight? Better,
she thought In her distress. that she lay
In yonder silent pool. drifting upon the
slow edcies to rest and oblivion. For what
had the world to give her? The tears
flowed fast at the remembrance OF all she
had hoped, all she had suffered. all she had
lost. Gavin" she cried aloud, save me,
Gavin. for I cannot live alone"
He came to her swiftly out of the dark
ness. But yesterday be had returned from
Bucharest. and, just as she today. had gone
all Hal 10 And Shtaff