The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1908-12-31

even In this rough town, course
which she, had she been faithful to
her vow FOR better, for worse" might
have turned to his redemption? God
forgave, but she had not forgiven.
Smarting tears scorched her eyelids.
For Harry Sanderson the music was
the imprisoned memory, crying out
strongly. in the first tongue it had
found. The slumbering qualities that
had stirred uneasily at sight Of the
face on the balcony awoke. Who he
was and had been he knew no more
than before, but the new writhing self
consciousness, starting from its sleep
with almost sense OF shock, became
conscious of the gaping crowd, the
dusty street, the red sunset and of
himself at the end Of vulgar brawf
-awing a violin in silly braggadocio In
a hotel doorway.
The music faltered and broke off,
The bow dropped at his feet. He
picked it up fumblingly and turned
back into the Office as a man entered
from a rear door. The newcomer was
Michael Halloran, the hotels proprie-
tor, short, thickset and surly. Asleep
in his room, he had neither seen the
fracas nor heard the playing. He saw
instantly, however, that something un-
usual was forward and, blinking on
the threshold, caught sight of the man
who was handing the violin back to its
owner. He clinched his fist. with q
~ ~ okoI
His wife caught his arm.
"Oh, Michael, Michael!" she cried.
"Say nothing, lad! Ye should have
heard him play!'
"Playv' he exclaimed. LET him 20
fiddle to his side partner, Prendergast,
and the other riffraff he's run with the
year past" He turned blackly to Har-
~. take yourself from this house,
Hugh Stires" he said. "Whether all's
true that's said of you don't say, but
you'll not come herev'
Harry had turned very white. With
the spoken name-a name how familiar!
his eyes had fallen to the ring on his
finger-the ring with the initials 81. S.
A sudden comprehension had darted to
his mind A score Of circumstances
that had seemed odd stood out now in
baleful light. The looks of dislike in
the barroom, the attitude of the street.
this angry diatribe, all smacked of ac-
quaintance, and not alone acquafnt-
ance, but obloquy. His name was
Hugh Stires! he belonged to this very
town! And he was a man hated, de-
spfsed, forbidden entrance to an Tn
couth hostelry, an unwelcome visitant
even in barroom. He turned to Eel
der and said in a low voice to him,
not to the hotel keeper or to the room
full:
when I entered this town today I
did not know my name or that I had
ever set foot in it before. was struck
by a train a month ago and remember
nothing beyond that time. It seems
that the town knows me better than
know myself
He turned quietly and walked out of
the door. Pavement and street were a
hubbub of excited talk. The groups
parted as he came out, and he passed
between them with eyes straight be-
fore him.
As he turned down the street frag-
ment of quartz thrown with deliberate
and venomous aim few from the sa-
loon doorway. It grazed his head.
knocking off his hat.
Tom Fielder had seen the flying mis-
sile. and he leaped to the center of the
street with rage In his heart. IF
find out who threw that" he said. ''1'lf
send him up for it, 50 help me God"
Harry stopped and picked up his hat
and as he put it on again turned a
moment toward the crowd. Then he
walked on down the middle of the;
street, his eyes glazing, his face white.
into the dusky blue of the falling twt
light.