The daily Alaskan., 1906-01-13
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 THE FLICKER OF i ! A PAST LOVE i
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 dreaming. At times there seems 10 autter within him something of bis faraway youth. 1 can see 1t In hls atep. his eye, his smile, though he smiles so seldom"
 Heaven grant" replied Fanny' changing color, that he has not been caught by some designing woman. How terrible to think of a specially manufactured mother
 Richard Shirley's married life had been devoid of anything more than family affection. His wife was cold woman, whom he had married for her fortune, She had given herself, but her fortune she had retained in her own keeping. Yalnly had their younger daughter, Fanny, tried to shield her father from the mothers reminders that she held the purse strings. Rich ard Shirley had been married, but he had never known what 1t was to be mated.
 The family remained at their country seat till after the holidays, and every morning Mir. Shirley took his constitu- tlonal walk, usually alone. On a cer- tain morning in November after storm. when the air was full of ozone, a few red leaves were Clnging to the trees and a thin coat of Ice covered the smaller streams, he was walking along a road. Ahead of him he saw carriage that had evidently been stall ed or broken down When he came up two lIveried servants were examining a broken spring, one of them just start ing to find a blacksmith. A lady hae alighted from the coach and was stand Ing looking on. On seeing Mfr. Shirley she stepped forward to meet him.
 We meet inoppOrtunely," she salu' extending her hand, "after so long separation"
 "separation! What separation? Are you not mistaken in your person, mad am?"
 No, Mir. Shirley, am not mistaken. am not likely to have forgotten you. But why stand here? Let us go to the stone bridge wonder while my men are looking out for the repairs"
 MT. Shirley walked beside her, and they sat on the stone coping of the bridge. Too gallant to acknowledge that he did not recognize her, he re trained from speech.
 DO you remember" she said, "one evening years, many years, ago a young girl sitting in her music room? Her piano stood against the wall, her harp in a recess, sheet music scattered about From a bay window was a view of a river, with mountains be yond, while between were the happy autumn fields There was q career be fore the girl, but love stole in to de prive her of 1t. The man who drew her from 1t was handsome, winning, re fined. aristocratic He, too, had a de cision to make. He was born to for tune; fortune was needful to him, yet he was without fortune. Should he give himself to a poor girl or reserve himself for a wealthy one?
 'aThey sat before the window, but not looking out. They were gazing into each others eyes. Each knew the oth- CTS problem. The man bent forward, placing his lips near hers. Ills right arm rested on the back of the sofa ready to fall about her waist. His left hand nearly touched hers. She must decide whether to accept what might come by remaining where she was or decline 1t by rising. She decided to re main, to give up her career for him. Suddenly he arose, went to the win dow and looked out. He had decided for himself, and he had altered her de cislon."
 The old man when she began had been looking straight into her eye. She was at least ten years younger than he and far better preserved. In deed, she was still a handsome woman. She had been beautiful. Before she finished a dimness came before his eyes, and he turned them toward a wood on the other side of the road. Then his hand found Its way to hers. What had the fortune he never got been to him in place Of that sweet sympathy which, springng suddenly between recognized Hates, grows stronger, deeper, holier to the end? Slowly he turned and looked her in the eyes.
 q remember" he said.
 That decision gave me success-for- tune"
 Tt gave me neither. It deprived me of that which is worth far more than both-love."
 'Our sumI1er Is past" she went on; i've have sowed our seed and have gathered the harvest. Now we are only waiting. That love we knew In our youth we cannot know now. We can but treasure a memory. It Is a faint satisfaction, like a whlf from a crumbling rose, yet 1t may help us as our faculties wane and we await the inevitable winter that here at least has no awakening spring."
 Tt will be more than that to me" he said. Tt will be a cheering light on what Is left of the path tread; light from which all that Is sensual has