The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1907-07-03

| dently Sne did not expect to be kissed
but he took her hand and murmured
| some kind words of welcome.
"You have hal a great sorrow,
he said gently, "but l know how
brave you are"
Il am not at all brave" she re-
| piled, little scornfully. Then after
struggling with her emotion for a
moment or two, she continued:
Il am glad to see you alone, Har-
old. l feel l have been very, very
| wicked; when / wrote to you / did
not know did not dream such q
thing possible. I thought l loved
you too much!"
He looked amazed, and she went
on to explain:
"On the voyage I met someone
Mr.. Douglas; he was very kind to
me, and before I realized what was
happening, we fell in love. oh!
am ashamed of myself! will marry
you II you still wish it, Harold, but ]
could not add the wrong of deceiving
you to all the rest"
She did not look at him, or she
would have seen the relieved express
sion on his face.
81 am humiliated," she went on
rapidly. at did not enter my mind
that a woman of my age could fall
violently in love! l thought the old,
quiet affection / had for you was all
that was left after the glamour OF
youth was gone. But love was too
subtle. l did not recognize it till it
was too strong for me-"
She looked up, and said piteously,
"Can you forgive me?"
There Is nothing to forgive" he
said SLOWLY. Then, with an evident
effort, continued: II would never
have confessed If you had not told me
this, but l think l am too old and
staid to marry. Much as / appreciat-
ed your friendship, l almost dreaded
your coming home"
She looked at him in amazed de-
light.
Harold, you dear old fellow! Do
you really mean it? You don't mind
setting me free?"
Il ought to mind it, I know" he
said, with whimsical smile, "but
honestly, l have funked the thought
of marrying for a long time"
Harold, this is not pure unselfish-
ness?" she queried, in sudden sus-
picion.
A dull red appeared in Harold's 8
face, but he nerved himself to speak
the truth.
ut is pure selfishness. I feel a
brute to say it, but circumstances
justify me in doing SO. What you
tell me is relief. l, too, am glad
to be Free"
Then there will be no tragedy"
she said, with the first smile he had
seen her give. How bright and young
and pretty it made her!
mo, there will be no tragedy" he
echoed. "You see how old and staid
and gray l am. l have got into a
groove; but time has dealt differently
with you; you will marry and be
happy, and shall be happy also."
They talked a little longer, but
Elsie would not stay to tea. Her
hanson was waiting, and she had
to gladden. Mr.. Douglas as soon as
possible with the news.
ave shall always be friends, Har-
old?" she queried as she shook
hands with him.
Always, l hope" he responded
calmly.
George and will come to see you
and Marian soon," she said gaily.
Goodbye. f.
Goodbye" Harold repeated, me-
chanically, as the door closed upon
her and upon all the dream of love
that he had ever known. The door
closed, and Harold went back to his
study and locked himself in. Yet,
somehow, love was not willing to be
SO abruptly and ruthlessly shut out.
The vision remained of the sweet
face, so radiant with Joy, that he had
once lovedito kiss. The eyes that sor-
row and patient devotion to duty had
not dimmed were still before him,
and the echo of some words she had
said still remained in his ears:
Had you sent for me at any time,
Harold, should have come. Father
had many friends, and could have
we'll spared me for the last five or
six years. felt you had the greatest
claim upon me, and though you
seemed willing, l would not have
asked you to wait longer"
Harold bowed his head, and sat for
long time gazing into the fire, now
burning dim and cherries. He shiv-
cred as LIE glanced round the room,
which for the first time struck him
as looking unhome-like and lacking
something. Outside, the clouds had
piled up again, grim and lowering in
the dull autumn sky; and in his
heart, too, the clouds were gathering.
"She would have come! She would
have come" he repeated in dull, ex-
pressionless tone of voice. "What an
insensate fool have been! There is
tragedy, after all, in selling ones
birthright for a mess of pottage! -
London Sunday-School Times.