Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1907-07-10

mark. Six years had wrought changes
as great as those that had been effect
ed within his heart.
Six years before the world had
seemed bright and pleasant. Lucy
Desmond had loved him, and his pros
poets had begun to materialiZe. Then
had come the crash. Howard Des-
mond had sacrificed his daughter to
save his fortune. Half a million was
needed to support his tottering ven
lures. Metcalf would lend the money,
but not until Lucy had become Mrs.
Metcalf had the loan been made. Ten
days later the vein had been struck
in the mine which Morton owned, and
he was millionaire almost overnight.
For weeks he had rallied against the
fate that brought him fortune too late
to give him the only thing worth while,
the companionship Of the woman he
loved.
He had tried to meet her in their
social encounters with the Indifference
that convention demanded, but there
had come night when the intoxication
of the music, the heavy scent of flowers.
had been upon them. 1t had been in
the conservatory at the Clivers' dance,
and for one mad moment he had held
her in his arms, begging her to elope
with him.
But even as he pleaded there had
come the sense of right. He had gen.
thy released her and had fed the place.
no do no CIT IN r; 10
evening clothes pacing the floor of his
apartment, and as the fresh morning
air famed his flushed face he made
his resolution.
Before the end Of the week he had
disposed Of all his American interests
and had gone abroad. He left no kin
behind, and none knew where he had
gone For six years he had roamed
three continents, but always off the
path of the tourist. Then had come the
fierce longing for home, and he had
come back.
Now that he was here he was not
certain that he did not regret his de-
cision. All had changed. Everything
reminded him that he had lost his place
in the life Of the city. The stopping Of
the carriage reused him, and he paid
his driver and followed the bellboy
into the hotel.
He found the stiffness Of his room in
tolerable, and after vainly trying to in
| terest himself in the papers he threw
| them aside and went for a walk. Per
haps in the busy throng he could shake
off his memories.
Unconsciously he turned his steps III
the direction of the park and was we'll
into the shady recesses before he real
lied where he was. Then he reused
himself with start. 1t had been
Lucy's favorite walk. 1t led to little
summer house just around the curve in
the path, the little summer house where
they had spent such happy afternoons
before Cupid had fed in utter rout be-
fore the onslaughts of Mammon.
1t seemed perfectly natural that when
he had turned the curve he should see
her sitting there in the same place
where she had sat that afternoon when
she told him Of Metcalf's ultimatum.
He smiled at himself for his belief,
but the vision seemed so real that he
kept on and presently sank into the
seat beside her.
The girl raised her head and smiled.
Lucy" he said wonderingly as he
took the firm soft hand she offered.
lis 1t really you, dear? OF course I
know 1t isn't, but you seem so real.
You have come to me hundreds Of
times before, both waking and dream
ing, but never so plainly, DEAR
but suppose that am not vision,
Jim?" she asked with smiling lips.
Suppose that it really should be II"
''Then should have to CO., he said
firmly. Il cannot trust myself with
you - -
'Then let us pretend that am vi
sion,' she urged. II really ought to
scold you for keeping yourself hidden
all these years." -
1T was towards retreat" he adj
mitted, "but l could not see you the
wife Of that man, .#
"And SO you left me alone in my
misery" she said reproachfully. s..
Morton shook his head. ..It was not
that he said soberly. Il 1T was that /