The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1909-10-22
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i Thr ou8h q Woman's
4 Heart.
Heart

By Sidney Warwick.

-
he knew now would come sooner or
later up the drive.
Presently the servant, all uncon.
scious of tragedy in the air, was hold
ing the front door open, speaking to
two men:
Eyes. the masters returned. I'll tell
him yoa@"
"No need to announce us. my girl"
said the superintendent. I'm the Ii.
brary. did you say?"
He strobe forward, followed by his
subordinate.
The room was almost dark as he
flung open the door without ceremony.
He could only see dimly the figure
sitting in the chair and the white faces
of the scattered playing-cards on the
floor. cleaning family through the
dusk.
There was something in the attitude
of the figure that made the officer start
forward with sudden cry; he fun.
bled with a match.
The Pickering light fell on the grey,
distorted face of the huddled-up figure
in the chair and on little green bot
tie that winked evilly in the momen.
tary CLEAN, lying on the floor by the
dead mans side.
The week-night service in the church
was nearly over; the rector came
: slowly down the pulpit steps, as the
voices of the sprinkling of people that
formed the congregation rose in the
closing hymn.
In spite of himself the grave-faced
man in the surplice, whose hair had
grown noticeably greyer during the
past six months, had found his
thoughts wandering strangely through.
out the service tonight. He had
thought, as he delivered his address,,
OF that night many months ago when,
as he stood in that pulpit, the wind
sweeping over from the 1noors beyond
Wildfell had beaten against the loaded
windows; that night when the woman
of his broken dream had come back
to him with the storm, out of the 81.
lence of years, to bring an invading
breath of storm across his life..
The benedict;on was spoken; the
congregation. passed out of the church.
Stephen walked thoughtfully to the
vestry, thinking of many things.
In the church the music from the or.
gan still rose and fell in waves, beat
ing like triunphal march--an echo
of the stately wedding march that had
been played in the church that morn.
ing, when Hilda and Jack Lathom
were made man and wife.
They had gone away. radiant and
happy, on their wedding tour; Stephen
had said goodbye to them at the sta
, ton, and had gone back with a,strange
new sense of loneliness to the house
where hencefoyth he would be alone
this man whom the great, wonderful
happiness that Hilda and Jack had
found had forever passed by. For him
love had brought only sorrow and
disillusion.
This woman he had loved so deeply
deeply enough to have made that
| sacrifice of honour and duty and faith
for her sake; that sin against his con.
science to be paid for in the bitterness
of suffering and remorse-how far
apart their lives lay now, and must
always lie!
Her claim to be the widow of Philip
Hume had been definitely established,
thanks to the efforts of Anthony
Strangways. But she never came near
Wildfell, or the great house on it's out
skirts where Bonholt Hume had died
that was hers now. The place had a
horror for her.
Stephen saw Olives name some
times in the papers-she had leapt
into swift, amazing success on the
stage. London was crowding to see
the new star in the theatrical firma
ment. For this woman, who had beer
the one love Of his life-the incense
of popular adulation. the glitter Of
lights and music; for him-the broker
dream, with the sweetness, even of its
memory, marred and made bitter.
Stephen Ruthen hung up the sur
i plice with a sigh and passed Out
through the vestry door. He walked
i elovlv ha clr IN J,ia lono1v houoo