Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-07-12

most heart she knew that Harold loved
her. and had she been free she would
have herself spoken the words which
would have drawn the full truth to them
both. But how could she do So having
the remembrance of that other episode;
when. without the reality of love. she
had declared herself . Oh! the shame
of 1t. The folly! The
And Harold knew 1t all! How could he
ever believe that it was real this
Again and again came back the remem-
brance of that bitter regret of her Aunt
Laetitia. which no happiness nor no pain
of her own had ever been able to efface
from her mind:
ITO love and be helpless! To wait. and
wait. and wait: with heart all af1ame!
To hope. and hope; till time seemed to
have passed away. and all the world to
stand still on your hopeless misery! To
know that a word might open up heaven
and yet to have to remain mute! To
keep back the glances that could en-
tighten. to modulate the tones that might
betray! To see all you hoped for passing
away - ~
At last. at last she seemed to under
stand the true force Of pride: which has
in 1t thousand forces of its own. posi-
tive. negative. restrainful. oh! how blind
she had been! How little she had learned
from the miseries that the other woman
whom she loved had suffered. How I'M
sympathetic she had been: how self-en-
crossed: how callous to the sensibilities
OF others! And now to her, in her turn,
CALLING Of the iron! Must 1t be that the
very salt of youth must lose its SAVIOR,
before the joys of youth could be won
What. after all. was youth If out of its
own inherent power it must work its own
destruction! II youth was so. why not
then trust the wisdom of age? II youth
could not act for its own redemp-
ton - ."
Here the very rud.ment of a thought
struck her and changed the current of
with hope that she dared not even try to
complete It! She thought, and
thought till the long autumn shadows
fell round her. But the misty purpose
had become real.
After dinner she went up alone to the
MILL 1t was late for a visit, for the
Silver Lady kept early hours. But she
found her friend as usual in her room
whose windows swept the course Of the
sun. Seeing that her visitor was in a
state of mental disturbance such as she
had once before exhibited, the hostess
blew out the candles and took the same
seat In the eastern window as she had
occupied on the night which they both
both acts. and was grateful afresh. The
darkness would be a help to her in what
she had to say: and the resumption of
the old seat and attitude did away with
Cn6 aWkWaTOncSS Oh new COuHueuct. sui
ficient of the fast-waning twilight re-
manned to understand such looks as might
help spoken words. During the weeks
that had passed Stephen had kept her
friend informed OF the rescue and pro-
gress Of the injured man. Since the dis
covery of Harold's identity she had al
lowed her to infer her feeling toward
him. Shyly she had conveyed her hopes
that all the bitter part of the past might
be wiped out. To the woman who al
ready knew of the love that had always
been. but had only awakened to con-
seriousness In the absence OF its object. a
hint was sufficient to build upon. AS she
put her arms round the girl she said,
softly. not In the whisper which implies
doubt Of some kind. but in the soft voice
which conveys sympathy and trust:
Tell me. dear child!'
Then I'm a half-conscious way in words
that came SO shrink.ngly through the
darkness that they hardly reached the
ear bent low to catch them, came Ste