Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1908-12-16

folk jacket over the hills
WAS not thinking of the
sights and sounds of the pleasant even
ing. He had tramped miles since sun
down and had returned us he set out,
gloomy, unrequited. follower of baf-
fed quest
Set back from the street in wide
estate of trees and shrubbery stood
great white porched house. Not
light had twinkled from it for nearly
year. The little city had wondered at
first, then by degrees had grown indif-
ferent. The secret of that prolonged
honeymoon Harry Sanderson and the
bishop alone could have told, for the
bishop knew of Hugh's criminal act.
He was named executor of the will
that lay in the Korean chest, and him
David Stiras had written the truth.
His heart Lad gone out with pity for
Jessica,. and understanding. The secret
he locked in his own breast, as did
Harry Sanderson, each thinking the
other ignorant of 1t.
Since that wedding day no shred Of
news had come to either. Harry had
wished for none. To think Of Jessica
was recurrent pang and yet the very
combination of the safe in his study
he had formed of the letters of her
name! In each memory of her he felt
the fresh assault of Il new and tireless
foe-the love which lie must deny.
Outcast and criminal as Hugh was,
castaway, who had stolen banks
money and woman's love, he was
still her husband. Hugh's wife! What
could she be to him: And this feveretl
conflict shot through with yet another
pang. for the waking smart of com
junction which had risen at ,Jessica's
bitter cry, you helped to make him
what he has become!" would not down.
That cry had shown him in one Clarity
ing instant the follies and delinquencies
of his carly career reduplicated as
through the facets of Il crystal. and in
the polarized light of conscience Hugh
-loafer, gambler and thief-stood as
the type and sign of an enduring ac
cusation.
A'ae ~ shS iSSoI!SSliOi VI lAdl NSu
ding day and its aftermath stallied al
ways with him--if that kiss had seemed
to cling again and again to his lips as
he sat in the quiet of his study-no one
guessed. He seldom played his violin
now, but he had shown no outward
sign. AS time went OH he had become
no less brilliant. though more inscruta-
Bile; not less popular, save perhaps to
the parish heresy hunter, for whom he
had never cared q straw. But beneath
the surface great change had come to
Harry Sandarson.
Tonight as he wendell his way past
the house in the aspens, through the
clatter and commotion of the evening
there was kind of glaze over his
whole face-a shell of melancholy.
Tomorrow began Harry's summer
vacation, and he had planned a
months pedestrian outing through the
wide ranch valleys and the farther
again.
Now, however, as lie walked along
he was bitterly absorbed in thoughts
other than his own needs. He passed
more than one acquaintance with a
stare of nonrecognition. One of these
was the bishop, who turned an instant
to look after him. The bishop had seen
that look frequently of late and had
wondered If 1t betokened physical Ill
ness or mental unluiet. More than
once lie had remembered. with sigh.
the old whisper of Harry Sanderson's
early wildness. But he knew youth
and its lapses, and he liked and re-
spected him. Only two days before.
on the second anniversary Of Harry's
ordination, he had given him for his
silken watch guard n little gold cross
engraved with his name and contain
ing the date.
At crossing the sight of knot of
people on the opposite side of the
street awoke Harry from his abstrac-
ton. They had gathered around per-
ipatetic street preacher, who was hold
ing forth in shrill voice. Beside him
on short pole hung dripping gaso-
line flare, and the Kissing flame lit his
bare head, his thin features, his long
hair and his bony hands moving in
f! vehement gestures. A small melodeon