The Irish standard., 1908-10-17

@'AeoSSO luc HOIlU VI his TO.
nance. touching only at these four
ports, and returning always to linger
longest in the harbor of sentiment.
The gray girl: Strange that her
personality should have come to domi-
nate his thoughts in q space of time
so brief! and upon grounds of init.
macy so slender! Who and what was
she? What cruel rigor of circum-
stance had impelled her to seek live.
lfhood in ways so sinister? At whose
door must the blame be laid, against
what flaw in the body social should
the indictment be drawn, that she
should have been forced into the ranks
OF the powers that prey-a girl of her
youth and rare fiber, of her cultivation,
her charm, and beauty?
The sheer loveliness of her, her
grace and gentleness, her ingenious
sensitiveness, her wit; they combined
to make the thought Of her, to him, at
least, at once terrible and delight.
Remembering that once he had held her
in his arms, and gazed into her starlit
eyes, and inhaled the impalpable fra
GRANGE Of her, he trembled, was both
glad and afraid.
And her ways so hedged about with
perils! While he must stand aside, i'm
potent, pillar of the social order se-
cure in its shelter, and see her bounded
and driven by the forces of the Law,
harried and worried like an unclean
thing, forced, as it might be, to resort
to stratagems and expedients unthink-
able, to preserve her liberty.
1t was altogether intolerable. He
could not stand it. And yet-it was
written that their paths had crossed
and parted and were never again to
touch. Or was it? 1t must be so
written: They would never meet again.
After all, her concern with, her inter-
est in, him, could have been nothing
permanent. They had encountered
under strange auspices, and he had
treated her with common decency, for
which she had repaid him in good
measure by permitting him to retain
his own property. Their account was
even, and she for ever done with him.
That must be her attitude. Why
should it be anything else?
"Oh, the DEVIL" exclaimed the young
man in disgust. And rising, took his
distemper to the window
Leaning on the sill, he thrust head
and shoulders far out over the garish
abyss Of metropolitan night. The hot
breath of the city famed up in sitting
waves into his face, from the street
below, upon whose painted pavements
men crawled like insects-round NOV.
ing spots, to each his romance under
his hat.
The window was on the corner, over.
looking the junction Of three great
highways Of humanity: Twenty-third
street, with its booming crosstown
cars, stretching away into the dark.
ness on either hand; Broadway, fork.
ing of to the left, its distances merg.
ging into a hot glow of yellow radi.
ance; Fifth avenue, branching into the
north with its desolate sidewalks oddly
patterned in areas of dense shadow
and a cold, clear light. Over the way
the park loomed darkly, for all its
scattered arcs, black and silent
space, a we'll Of mystery.
1t was late, quite late; the clock
in front of Dorlon's Che craned his
neck to see) made the hour one in the
morning; the sidewalks were com.
paratively deserted, even the pillared
portico of the Fifth Avenue hotel des.
titute of loungers. A timid hint Of
coolness. forerunning the dawn, rode
up on the breeze.
He looked up and away northward
for many minutes, over housetops
stenciled black against the glowing
sky, his gaze yearning into vast dis.
tances of space, melancholy tingeine
the complexion Of his mind. He fan.
cied himself oppressed by vague un.
easiness, unaccountable as to cause
unless
From the sublime to the ridiculous
with vengeance, his thoughts tum
bled. Gone the glamour of romance
in twinkling, banished by rank ma
terialism. He could have blushed TO,
shame; he got slowly to his feet, ir
resolute, trying to grapple with con
dition that never before in his exis
tence had he been called upon to con
slider.
He had just realized that he was
flat-strapped for cash. He had given
his last quarter to the cabby, hours
back. He was registered at a strange
hotel, under an assumed name, un
able to beg credit even for his break
fast without declaring his identity and
thereby laying himself open to suspi
clon, discourtesy, insult.
OF course there were ways out. He
could telephone Bannerman, or any
other of half dozen acquaintances, in
the morning; but that involved expla.
nations. and explanations involved
making himself the butt of his circle
for many weary day.
There was money in his lodgings,
in the Chippendale escritoire; but ia
get it he would have to run the gaunt.
let Of reporters and detectives which
had already dismayed him in prospect