Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-05-24

why must you! WnaI nave you u
do with It? You are not my keeper! Nor
Stephens. The insult cooled Harold's
rising passion. even while it wrung his
heart. It was. indeed. q poor thing
when even such an one as this could
trample on it.
.T have to do with 1t because I choose
Now. clearly understand me. Leonard
Everard. You know me OF old, and you
know that what I say shall do. One
way or another. your life or mine may
hang on your answers to me-f neces-
sary" Leonard felt himself pulled up.
He knew we'll the strength and purpose of
the man. and he felt as II there were
danger in the air: danger real and close
With his fear came back. as in half
forgotten dream. the memory of the past
hour. and In his distress thought to find
refuge In sort of ,bonhomfe. With a
light laugh. which he felt to be. as it was.
hollow. he answered:
We'll. schooOlmaster. as you are ask
answer them. You seem to be putting
into practice the old custom that we
learned in school Of appealing from Philip
drunk to Philip sober. Go on! Ask your
questions! Next Harold went on in
the same calm. cold voice:
she did
did - Was it made at once and d.
rectiy. or after some preliminary sug-
gestioA~'
AIt0F 2 DIT. 01On quite UNDERSTAND
at first what she was driving at" There
was long pause. With an effort Harold
went on:
Ibid you accept?" Leonard hesitated.
With a really wicked scov-l he eyed his
big. powerfully built companion. who
still had his hand as in a wise. Then see
ing no resource. he answered:
II did not. That does not mean that
won't thought" he added. deiantly. To
his surprise Harold suddenly released his
hand. There was a grlmness in his tone
as he said:
That will do! I know now that you
have spoken the truth sober as well as
drunk. You need say no more. l know
the rest I know 1t perhaps better than
you do. for in the freedom Of your scottish
drunkenness you spoke out of the black
ness OF your black heart. l dare say you
would be surprised at what you did say.
Most men-even brutes like you. II there
are any-would have been ashamed even
to think the things you said. said openly
to me, you hound. You vile, traitorous
mean-souled hound!'
what did l say?'
Il know what you said. and l shall not
forget 1t. II you want to know. put your
thoughts in words-the vilest and mean
est OF them, and you will have It,. Then
he went on. his voice deepening into such
q stern. judicial utterance. as Though he
were pronouncing a sentence of death
that Leonard was appalled,:
Leonard Everard. you have treated
vilely lady whom 1 love an honor more
than I love my own soul. You have in
suited her to her face and behind her
back. You have made such disloyal ref
erence to her and to her mad act In so
trusting you. and have so shown your In
tention of causing, Intentionally or unin-
tentionally. woe to her. that I tell you
here and now that you hold henceforth
your life In your own hand. If you ever
mention to a living soul what you have
told me twice tonight. Even though you
should be then her husband: II you should
cause her harm though she should then
be your wife: II you should cause her dis
honor in public or in private, l shall kill
you. 80 help me Cod"
Not a word more did he say but. taking
arrived at the gate of Brindehow. where
he signed to his companion to alight
Then he drove of in silence.
When he arrived at his own house he
locked himself In his study. Then. and
then only. did he permit his thoughts to
the blow had fallen he looked straight In
the face the change in his own life. He
had loved Stephen SO long and so hon
estly that it seemed to him now as II
of his life He could not remember a
time when he had not loved her: away
back to the time when he. big boy. took
her. a little girl. under his care and de-
voted himself to her. He had been so
Loyalty careful OF her. in every way that
was for her ultimate good; even to child
ing her when such was necessary. though
it was pain to him. He had grown into
the belief that so strong and so consistent
an affection. though he had never spoken
become a part of her life as well as of
his own. And this was the end Of that
dreaming! Not only did she not care for
him, but found herself with heart SO
empty that she needs must propose mar
riage to another man! = Oh, that she
should do such a thing! She whom he SO
loved and honored! She who in his eyes
stood so high above her fellows by the
right divine of her own personality that
her beauty. her intellect. her grace, her
sweetness, and all the charms that won
her away from common kind, were but
attributes of a royal nature! There was
surely something. more than at present
he knew of or could understand. behind
such an act done by her. Why should
she ask Everard to marry her? Why
do such things! Here he paused.
women didn't do such things" All at
once there came back to him fragments
of discussions-in which Stephen had had
a part, in which matters Of convention
had been dealt with. Out of these dim
and shattered memories came comfort
to his heart. though his brain could not
as yet grasp the reason of 1T. He knew
that Stephen had held an unconven-
tional idea as to the equality OF the
sexes. Was it possible that she was. in
deed, testing one of her theories?
The idea stirred him so that he could
not remain quiet. He stood up and walked
about the room. Somehow he felt light
beginning to dawn upon him, though he
could not tell its source, or guess at the
final measure of its fullness. The fact of
Stephen having done such a thing was
hard enough to bear, but 1t was harder
to think that she should have done such
a thing without a motive. or worse. with
love of Leonard as a motive. He shud-
dered as he paused. She could not love
such a man as he. 1t was monstrous.
And yet she had done this thing.
But the pity of it! The pity of it! Oh.
II she had had any one to advise her. to
restrain her! But she had no mother.
No mother! Poor Stephen
The pity Of 1t, not for himself but for
the woman he loved. 2vercape him. Sit
down his face on his hands. and his great
shoulders shook with the measure Of his
grief
Long. long after the violence of his emo
ton had passed. he sat there motionless.
save for his regular breathing. He was
thinking, thinking with all the power and
sincerity he knew; thinking for Stephens
good.
When a strong man thinks unselfishly
some good may come out of it. He may
blunder; his own honesty may be an OBJ
scuratiOn to his understanding of the
motives of others; looking to the loftier
side Of nature. he may err as to motives
or objects originated by Its meaner
powers. But the conclusion of his rea-
SO 1t was now with Harold. He knew
nf