Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-01-01

1 DeclSQ 10 take up your Ire aga IN III ltllS
| state. | do not know whether you are
still of that mind. or whether YOU intend
to go far away where you will see moth
ing to remind you OF the cruelty that you
have suffered. But if you"
But if | GO I repeated when ] saw
| that she hesitated.
| She turned her face away from me and
spoke slowly. hating at each word.
IF you go to some far-off land YOU will
| be among new peopIe-alone-With any
familiar face. You have suffered-the
! greatest of disgraceS for another-who
| cannot repay you-eNcept in the one way
that woman can. She is unhappy.
very unhappy-but she is not afraid to
| face a new land
Her voice died away. and she put her
| face in her hands. / knew that it was
pure woman who was speaking. pure
as my mother. but she was carried away
| by violent emotion and her feeling that
| had ruined my life to save her from
possible disgrace-in her mind was some
dim idea of reparation.
Alicia" l said. I'VE suffer together.
but we must carry our burdens alone.
am not going away. | shall ABIDE by the
/ letter. l mean to stay in this state and
have my part in it's life. l think. Alicia.
| that YOU are the noblest woman in the
world
| The last burst from me through inn
pulse 1t was an old-fashioned thing to
| do. but 1 took one of her hands and
| kissed it,
nen | am Eidd YOU are To stay. size
said, calmly now. because 1 could not
| bear to lose sight of YOU
| She spoke unashamed. | do not think
i she quite understood or remembered the
meaning of the words she had uttered.
as one coming from brief delrium knows
| little of what then passed.
And i wish 10 see you asain-often.
| Alicia" | said: perhaps it is wrong of
me. but | cannot help it
| She did not reply, and side by side We
there in Silancn q No
passed. The little park seemed to be de-
serted save by ourselves. a light wind
rust.ed through the autumn foliage. The
clang of street car gong came family.
| a little bird hoped about in the path.
and so silent and still were we that lie
came unscared to our feet. Then reused
myself. ] could not keep Alicia there eN
| posed to second discovery. In city
the size of Louisville people are we'll
known, and some one who recognized her
might come a t any moment The knoWl
edge that Alicia would have sacrificed
herself for me gave me great content,
and | vowed to myself that if | were at
| least half a man ] would watch over and
| protect her. in so far as 1 could. Looking
| at her pale face and the sadness which
was always as a shadow over her eyes,
l knew that she needed protection.
Goodbye. Alicia" ] said. as rose, Il
am going home now. 1t may seem to you
that | am saying d strange thing, but
really have home to go to, although /
have not seen it in five years
She rose too, and her eyes were brave.
Once more she put her hand in mine.
we know our secrets. you and L., she
said. and we will keep them. Always
We will trust in each other
Always we will trust in each other l
repeated.
| Then l dropped her hand. and not know
ing what else TO say or do turned and
walked hastily away. At the turn of the
path l glanced back. She had sat down
n m hn hny,n ~
drooping. Poor Alicia. Far harder was
her fate than was mine, and 1 felt
powerful desire to go back and say to
her words of sympathy. Yet l am thank
ful that resisted the temptation and
went on, until the park was left be-
hind.
l took train that afternoon for the
heart of the state. and about the twilight
hour alighted at the little way station at
Carlton. My soul filled with tumult
that ] could not still. because it was here
that l was born. and I was looking for
ward to meeting. second only to that
with Alicia, but with a poignancy Of an
| other kind. Mingled with my joy and
overshadowing it were shame and re-
| morse I had left behind me here in this
county of my birth a reputation not of
too good SAVIOR. and then after wanderings
in the west had suddenly dropped from
the sight of those who l knew loved me
| despite my many faults. What would
they think? What had they thought of
this long and cruel silence?
win certain fear in my heart stood
on the station platform and watched the
train that had brought me pass out of
sight with its friendly noise and smoke
last glow from the blood-red sun
showed over the western hills. but dark
ness was already drawn like a great robe
over the east. and the station lamps were
lighted The autumn wind came chill and
cutting, and 1 shivered in my light over
coat.
=, Are you waiting for some one?' asked
the station agent.
He was new man, appointed since nv
time. but decided to make no disguise:
would let my identity be disclosed at once.
,.n 10 you YOU know o,, man, young man
mile or so from here?" / asked.
NO, don't know him. he replied, "but
I've heard OF him: most people about here
nave heard Of him. and not much good
enher. ne was a bad egg. up to all sorts
He went out west about five years ago.
an they say hes dead now leastways
he hasn't been heard from in a long time.
Proo ~ Killed III some drunken row.
II listened iii silence while he talked
From mere hearsay he was branding me
as i was, and my burden of shame and
remorse grew heavy
But he had an aunt and uncle" I
alive, are they not o.
My voice trembled slightly as I asked
the question, because my heart was sud
denly sunused with a great tenderness for
this old aunt and uncle of mine and il
mad never occurred to me until this mo-
ment that they might be dead I hung
breathlessly upon his answer
They're up at the old house yet" he re-
piled. AN they're in right smart good
health, ! low. though, they amt what
you'd call lively couple. I guess that
they're grievin' for that good Jr-nothin'
scamp
I drew a deep sigh of relief, and the
agent hearing it, looked sharply at me-
why are you aSkin me all these Dues
tions?" he said
Because ] am Harry Clarke, the Young
man OF whom you were just speaking
II did not occur to him 10 doubt my
word. and he flushed
You took an unfair advantage of me
Mr.. Clarke" he said What / said of
you was what I've heard from everybody.
but | wouldn't have said it. if I'd knowed
that il was you
What you said was the truth" I re-
piled. eravely. but I hope that it will
not continue TO be the truth You see
now that I'm not dead and I'm going
over to tell the same thing to Aunt Jane
and Uncle Paul.
Don't break it to 'em too sudden he
said
81 won't" / replied. knowing this to be
good advice, and ] walked down the road
in the deepening twilight / felt that he
was looking curiously after me but | did
not turn back by eyes to met his gance
instead keeping straight ahead When I
came TO the brow of the first hill locked
-.