The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1907-03-29
''I believe" he said, "that you must

81 believe" he said, s'that you must
care for him STILL -
''It would cost me hardly pang to hear
that he was dead" she replied. 'And
yet, l must find him. Perhaps people s
pity had CALLED my pride, and made me
determine that my husband should ac-
knowledge me as his wife under his right
name, although we should never be more
to each other than natural bearers of that
name"
"You are woman whom most men
would be proud to call their wife, he
answered, seriously.
X X X y X X
When they reached London Mrs. Poole
gave him all the knowledge she possessed
of her missing husband. The details were
meager enough, and she hadn't even a
photograph to aid them. Stern found that
he possessed aptitude for detective work,
but pro6tless weeks passed by.
One afternoon, however, he received a
telegram from Mrs. Poole "My search
is at an end" He went at once to her
rooms.
''We met face to face in London yester-
dayr' she said. sFor moment he tried
to deny me; but seeing it was useless, he
hurriedly promised, upon my giving him
my address to let me hear from him today /!
He would not let me detain him, but broke
away from me in few moments. was
helpless
''What shall you do if he does not
write p
But she did not answer him. Her eyes
were staring strangely at an evening paper
which he held in his hands
Some words at the top of page had
caught her gaze. She snatched the paper
from his hands with cry, and read the
few lines beneath the heading
"Is-is that his answer p she asked, in
a trembling voice.
Stern read where she indicated. "We
regret to announce that Sir Stephen Jesson
met with fatal accident in the hunting
field this morning. 1t will beremembered
that the unfortunate baronet came into the
title, quite unexpectedly, a couple of years
ago, three strong lives having dropped out.
Every one will sympathize with Lady Ger
trude Jesson, who, as Lady Gertrude
Kingsley, was the loveliest debutante of her
year.
''He was villain all through, you see,
said Edith Poole. "He married this wo-
man while 1 still lived. He has ruined
her life as we'll as mine. What shall I
do? Shall I put forth my right to this
mans name, and take it away from her :?
Or shall 1 forever keep back the truth that
would strip her of everything p
He did not answer. His features were
fixed. He saw clearly, like picture be-
fore him, certain scene in Mayfair
drawing -room-he heard woman's hard,
merciless voice, her insulting words. He
remembered the utter desolation which this
woman had created in his darkest hour.
Times whirligig had turned indeed, and
brought with it this miraculous chance of
crying quits with the one whose cruelty it
had taken him four years to forget. The
temptation gripped him. Why should she
not be dragged down into the dust-her
pride humbled, as nothing else except this
one unlocked for thing could have power
to humble it? Then he crushed down the
ignoble desire.
As suddenly as it had come up before
him the black past vanished in cloud of
sunshine, out from which Edith's pale,
serious face, with that strange, altered look
that he had noted in it of late shone forth.
"What shall / do?'' she asked again.
''Guide me. :"
He took her hand in gentle grasp.
"Let this woman keep her empty honors.
And for yourself-forget that you are this
mans widow. Become my wife. -
His tone was unmistakable. She looked
at him with glowing, wondering eyes, He
was struck by her sudden bewildering
beauty.
"Do you mean it p she whispered.
There was no need for any spoken
answer, and she crept into the shelter of a
strong mans arms held out to receive
her