The Calhoun chronicle. [volume] (Grantsville, W. Va.) 1883-1984, 1907-12-03
lie CANE TO HIS OWN.

& -
Herbert Vinton passed his hand
caressingly over his rather grayish,
though still luxurious, locks, and
studied the picture before him. 1t
was the photograph OF girl. or
rather CT one who had been a girl the
day before.
Around him were many evidences
OF wealth. In spite of his bachelor
hood he had all the cares and com
forts of a splendid and well ordered
house. He was not a clubman: he
had little taste for society; he had
Travelled all he cared to; he had
grown weary of plays, and at fifty,
still as vigorous as he had been at
thirty, he preferred 10 spend his leis-
ure moments in his library.
"Yes," he said to himself, still
looking at the picture, "if her mother
could be as she was twenty-five years
ago they might pass for twins"
He drew long sigh. Twenty-Five
years ago her mother had said no to
him and married man who was
6fty-five.
Il was poor then" Vinton unused.
"and he was rich. Now I'm rich and
newell, l forgive him. He's dead.
And they are poor, and she is still
ready to giye-not her soul this time,
but her daughter. for money"
The letter that lay on the desk
was from her. 1t was the first she
had written to him since their part
Ing. She had at least been loyal to
the man she had chosen. Why, ne
asked himself, had she sent him the
picture Of her daughter, if not for the
purpose that had first suggested itself
to him? Why had she not sent her
own? Her letter, coming so soon
after the beginning Of her widowhood
and the loss of her fortune, meant
but one thing.
When he entered his library the
next morning his eyes at once sought
the picture of the fair-faced girl.
III 60" he said to himself, after
taking up the portrait again and gaz-
Ing at it for long time. "Why
shouldn't l? There will be no unfair
ness about it-not, at least, On my
part. 'hey-both OF .hem-owe it
to me. I've waited twenty-five years.
Why shouldn't 1 be rewarded now?
1t will only be a case Of turn about.
He look her in the glory and fresh
ness of her youth, when she right
fully belonged to me. But here
he looked earnestly at the picture
Rgain--"she has returned just as she
was whe-1 they robbed me OF her. /
will have her. She is my own. Fate
has given her back to me"
He found them in plain little quar-
| ters, and Eleanor-they had given
her her mothers name-placed her
hands in his and looked up with a
look that awoke , thousand memories
in him. 1t wes the look that he had
SO often, waking and dreaming, seen
before. Her fingers seemed to give
the old. glad, thrilling touch. Her
voice was the voice that had been
calling him through all the lonely
years He had found his love again
fair, undecided, just as she was
when no had lost ner.
The other looked upoh chem and
| was silent Youth was no longer
hers. Gladnes9 was not I'm her eyes
| Her smilo was not the eager smile OF
hope Much of her beauty she re.
tanned, but 1t was not the beauty that
inspires love. 1t was such beluty as
might be chiseled out of marble.
| In the days that came and went
Vinton's JOY was boundless. There
had been dark years, I'm which he had
been sure that he would never taste
the sweets of love again He laughed
at himself for having harbored suef
doleful thoughts. And always h,
kept assuring his conscience that ht
was preparing 20 claim only what wa,
his.
she is mine; she has been re
turned TO me by them that did m,
| wrong" he declared. "I have wor
her by waiting. [ will have 10,
own"
Eleanor did not dread his coming
Often she sat at the window lookini
eagerly for him. She had learned
from he" mother why he had been liv
ing in loneliness. She had heard from
her mother Of the wrong that he ha,
suffered. She had learned that Il
was their duty to make reparation
Once, I'm n moment OF depression. shD
had asked
"It he were still poor, would yol
think / ought TO give myself to hin
TO right the old wrongg"