Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1907-08-29

mo, no." said ne. Il owe you quite
enough already, Mrs. Adcock. Besides,
I'm rs strong as a horse and doing
much better than you think. But the
world Is full Of kindness after all, and
God bless you for yours!"
And his dark eyes, that but now had
flashed and burned with bitter fires
that were far more striking always for
q shock Of almost faxen ~hair-stood
full Of tears. He could say no more, |
but only wiring the dry, chapped hand
In his. Then he was gone and might
have been seen a little later hurrying
with bent head toward Temple Bar or
later yet spread at full length in that
green asylum Of his homeless days, the
southwest corner of st. james park.
d. And here he read the letter from bis
friend. 1t began on one side Of the
large white paper and ended on the
next. The girlish handwriting was
pitlfully tremulous, but yet instinct
with q self reliance then uncommon in
young English ladies. The letter a n
Avenue Lodge. Regents Park, April 26.
Darling What does 1t mean? I was
picturing you In Calcutta when 1 saw you
this afternoon In Piccadilly! I had been
am-and there you were! Oh, my dar-
ling. what can 1t mean? Tell me quickly,
or I shall go mad with anxiety, as I near
" did on the spot this afternoon. Come
here, as you love me, and tell me all!
Darling, what can 1t be hat has kept
did you go out and come straight back?
No; there has not been time. The Jumna
sailed on the last day Of September, and
I have prayed for her safety all these
months. I was 30 sure my love was on
board!
Oh. If only 1 dare lave stopped to speak
to you a few more seconds! The groom
was 40 close behind. But, Tom, you
seemed not to wan to give me your ad-
dress! I would not LAY left you without
it. And now I shall come to you there
unless you come to me. You looked so
sad and III, my sweetheart! I can see
his poor face still!
Come and tell me all and let me help
you or my heart will break. You are in
trouble. I know 1t and must help you
1t Is my right. We are in the new Ave-
nue. road; you will easily find 1t. The
house Is far the largest on the right hand
side as you come from town. There are
fields behind, and our garden goes the
farthest back-that is. we have a field Of
our own walled in with 1t, and there Ia
q green gate in the wall. 1t is kept
locked, but 1 will be there at 9 o'clock
tomorrow Thursday night, and so must
you. Be there for my sake and tell me
all.
I have written the moment I got in, I
Will post 1t myself. Dear Tom, do not
be hare on this girl If you think her over
bold, for she loves you, she loves you and
would give her life to make yours happy!
Your own true CLAIRE
Twenty-eight mortal hours to wait. 1
snail near my heart beating-as I hear 1t
now, as I have heard 1t ever since 1 saw
that sad, sad face-until 1 see it again!
When Thomas Erichsen came to the
n Of this passionate, pure love letter
he buried his face in the sweet spring
grass and lay immovable with a grief
too great for tears. The sounds of
London Qouder then than now BOOM
ed and ratified in his ears. To those
Of his soul a brave soft voice was
whispering the last godspeed, while
his own. the more broken Of the two.
was vowfng not only eternal con-
stancy, but eternal goodness and an
honest life for her sake.
He could see the steady gray eyes
filed with tears that never fell and
shining into his with the love that
knew no shame. He must never look
in them again nor ever more dehle
with his the brave lips that had trem-
bled, truly, but yet spoken comfortable
words up to the end.
And here Tom lay in culpable pov.
erty and dishonorable rags, fallen al.
ready to an ultimate deep. So now,
too late, as through the gates Of hell.
must come this message Of angelic
love!
He read it again, tore off the clean
half sheet and, sitting cross legged,
wrote as follows in pencil upon his
knee:
It means that l am a blackguard and
no longer worthy to be even your friend.
me Ju1nna was ten days behind her
advertised time Of sailing. I was
miserable. You might have pited me
then; I neither ask nor deserve my pity
now. I had vile thoughts. Even IL /
made my fortune. your father would hate
my fathers son forever-and I him-so
y could be. You would marry in
due course. How could you help your
SELF? Those were my thoughts. And
then I met a friend!
He showed me the town. He he!ped
me to forget. He won most Of my money
and took the rest by fraud. I never even
booked my passage And now I only nve
to spill the fellows blood.
But hats all he did. He didn't DIS
grace me. disgraced myself and broke
ell my promises to the noble girl of whom
! never was worthy and must therefore
see her no more. It would be no good.
VIII should l insult you too? I have
done so enough in coming to this. Simply
forget me, for I am not worth YOUR scorn
Forget me utterly. I am too ASHAMED to
sign my name.
This he folded up. addressed with
his pencil and sealed Gin a fashion,
with the waters which had been used
already. Her lips had touched them
before his. Then he sat where be was
and noted the other moral corpses
stretched upon that daily battlefield
and wondered If any Of them had
1 knNv~ A~l