The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-04-17

I hI lSdSI IodSI Q6f eyes him again. but 1t was at best a chastened glad l ness. for well she knew that that thrill | ing moment would not come again during that interview. And he was | going away next morning.!
 Athlyne. too. was ill at ease He too | Knew there would be nQs more oppor- | tun1ty now to follow uD his declara- ton. The chagrin of his disappoint-l ment almost made him cross, such be- ing the nature of man. Here. however. both his breeding end the kindliness or his nature stood to him; the shadow quickly passed. Later on in the even l Ing, when he was thinking the matter over, he came to the conclusion that the 1nterposition. though he, did not attribute it to any divine origin, was after all perhaps best. It could not, or might not. suit him to declare himself so quickly. He felt that under the cir cumstanceS of his false name it would De necessary, or at any rate wise, to take Colonel Ogilvie into his confidence before declaring himself to his daugh- ter. It is thus that we poor mortals de- ceive ourselves. He had been just about to declare himself in the most passionate and overt way a man can; by taking the girl in his arms and Kissing her. without even a passing thought of her father. But now. from some other cause, quite outside the girl and even without her Knowledge, | he found his duty. One might with this knowledge easily differeHtiate the
 
 his mind regarding his confession to her father.
 Joy found very distinct, though | shy. pleasure in handing him tea and tea-table She did not interfere un- duly with her niece's ministrations. but | she took care that she had plenty of GPPTItuqies if Mr Hardv % f deae won't won't you see has MT. Hardy enough sugar." and l so forth She had noticed those sud den liftings of the girls eyes, and | knew what they meant to a woman-l and to man. Athlyne did not as a | rule make tea a square meal, but | this time he got in that direction. He refused nothing she offered He would nave accepted death at her hands now. l If it would have pleased her; and it was only the girls discretion which | saved the situation.
 In due time he made his adieux and | took his leave. With Joy there was no more than a handshake. It was per haps part of a second longer than cus- tomary. but the force with which the memory. Perhaps it was the pain in ficted in the operation which made her often during the evening. when she was alone. caress the possibly wounded hand! That night she went to sleep with her right hand pressed to her heart.
 Judy had a wild impulse to tell Joy to go to the door with the departing | CT she cid not dare to suggest it. Had she been alone she would probably have done so.
 Ath1yne walked away with his mind whirl. In his heart he was ever surging up through all other thoughts that one sublime recognition which comes to every man at least once in his life: that which Sir Geraint voiced:
 Here, by Gods rood is the one maid for mel" To this all other thoughts gave way. It obsessed him. When he came to Forty Second Street he did rot turn towards the hotel but kept straight on up Fifth Avenue till he reached Central Park. He felt the need of movement. He wanted to be alone in the open. At Central Park his steps took him seemingly of their own ac- T. count towards the Riverside Drive. When he came to a place amongst trees seeming to hang over the river he sat cn a seat and gave way to his thoughts. There was no one near him: Below him was the quiet river with it's passing life; beyond, the Jersey shore so distant that details of life were not apparent He took off his hat. more in reverence than for ease. as he thought of the beautiful girl who had so strangely come into life Over and over again he said to himself in endless repetition;
 "Joy! Joy! Joyi Joyr He sat till the light began to fail and for long after the sudden darkness of the American night had swooped down.
 
 In the hotei he found visitor wait ing for him. MT. Breckenridge had come to say goodbye. He did so with ( SO much heartiness that Athlyne could z self. Though he longed to be alone he I insisted on the young fellow coming up I to his own rooms. IT
 The boy was not quite at ease so ( Athlyne said to him: 2
 There is something on your mind. j What is it?'' . ''We1l, look here, sir" he answered "You have treated me like r ! comrade, and want to treat you like ! )ner
 ''Go on, old chap. I'm listening." | Not without some nervousness the oth- 2 er proceeded: :
 '.I saw in the Journal last evening , hat you had dined on Sunday evening ' n the Holland with Colonel Ogilvie." r
 Those damned reportersp' interrupt I d Athlyne, but at once told him with l wave of his hand to proceed:
 'oThat hung in my mind from some ' hing you said to me the other evening. : 7aIue." Othlyne nodded. He went on: |
 'I know something of that family. z I'm from Kentucky myself; and I was z here for while-that time of the mig ger disturbance you know-and I was ' luartered not far from Airlville. I lave met Colonel Ogilvie; but it was on a suty and amongst a good many oth- . ITS so he would not remember me. I ' lever met any of his family; but I 1 J leed not tell you that I fell in love with Miss Ogilvie. No fellow could help hat; one glimpse of her is enough-t heard a lot down there bout the old man, and as I was keen bout the girl I took it all in and re- nembered it. want to tell you this, $ ,ecause he is avery peculiar man. He s a splendid old chap. As brave as a ion, and as masterful Teddy Roose- velt himself. But all the same he has lis ideas which are hardly up to date. S Ie is as stern as Fate in matters of J f-well, social matters. They told me s story of him which when I recalled N t has troubled me since I saw you. It e vas about a man whose identity he r. nistook and who for jest allowed the p rror to go, and kept it up. He was d
 Northern of course, for a Southern would have understood, and our boys T re sometimes very keen on a joke. il