The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-07-08
{Contlnued.l

As no reply could be heard. Jacks tones droned on; their despair twisted | by distance into grotesque semi-audl- ble squeak:
 "she may not live through the night | the doctors says. You see," he ram bled along, incoherently, talkatfvs in his panic i've were called away from the Antlers, suddenly, by a letter tell was ill. So we all left, two weeks earlier than we had meant. When we got to Brandon my mother stayed there and I started back to Granite branch road; and just outside of Ma Magdeburg-"
 "Party's rung off long ago." put in the operator.
 Caleb. at Jacks second sentence. had dropped the receiver, bolted from the hotel and hailed a night-hawk ham, som. Already he was galloping through the empty streets toward the station; scribbling with unsteady hand on envelope-backs a series of orders and dispatches that should assure him a clear track and a record breaking journey from the Capital to Magde- burg. This detail arranged, his brain ceased to act. Sense of time was lization of pain In the cab of the roads fastest engine he crouched through the long hours of darkness; while the wheels jolted out an irritat-
 
 ran:
 Haven't -you-started? -For-God's -sake,-comer'
 To still the hateful iteration and to rouse himself to some semblance of calm, Caleb pulled from his side pocket a bunch of letters brought on from his office at Granite that same afternoon, by his secretary. He had been busy when the package arrived and had thrust it into his coat. Now he drew 1t forth and mechanically began to glance over the envelopes.
 It was personal mail and had been accommodating for days. Desiree always addressed her letters to his hotel at the Capital; and his secretary attend ed to official mail. So Caleb had not ordered the forwarding of such per- sonal letters as might come to the of flee. In fact he had been mildly an- noyed at the secretarv's we'll meant act in bringing them to him.
 Through the small sheaf of envelopes his thick fingers wandered. Suddenly. the mans lack-1ustre look brightened to one of astonishment. Midway in the package was an envelope in De- siree Shevlin's hand. Letting the rest of the letters slide to the swaying floor the Fighter nervously caught this up Why had she written to the office in stead of to his hotel? Probably, he thought. by mere mistake. A mistake that meant a few moments of sur cease now from his nightmare journey. With ice-danp fingers Conover held the letter; tore it open as though the ripping of the paper caused him physi- cal pain; smoothed wide the pages with awkward, awed gentleness, and read:
 Hearts Dearest:-Just as soon as you've read this, you can come straight to see me. Honestlyi For I'll be at home. Mrs. Hawarden's sister is ill. We only heard of it by this noon'S
 
 train, At first I wanted to telegraph you at the Capital. But if do I'm so afraid you will drop everything and come to meet me. And you mustn't. wir your fight there for all the men who have put money in Steeloid- We are so happy we can't afford to do anything now to make other people blue. Can we? So stay and win for them. That's why I'm sending this to your office.
 You have just come back to Granite all tired from your work. Then you saw my letter and opened it and-I'm afraid you're on your way to my house before you've gotten this far. "Oh, dear! This is the last of my little batch of Adirondack love letters. And I believe you're rushing off to see me instead of reading it. And it isn't a love letter after all. For it's going to be only a. note. I've all my packing to do and the 'white-horse chariot comes for our trunks at six. It has been beautiful vacation. Two weeks of it was heaven And the memory of that last golden day of ours makes something queer come into my throat.
 But I'm oh so glad.-so glad-we brings me nearer to Granite You won't be there when I arrive: but I'll be where you have lived. And I'll be waiting for you every minute till you come back Just thinking about you and loving you, heart of my heart. I'm glad, too, that we are leaving the Antlers before every one else does. It is sad, somehow, to watch the boat loads go off into the dark and to be part of the dwindling group that i; left. It is pleasantest to go away from a place,-yes, and from the world, too I should think,-while everything is at it's height; before friends thin out and the jolly crowd falls away and the happy. happy times begin to end. TO leave everything in the hood-tide of the fun and to remember it as it was at it's best; to be remembered a lit tie part of the happiness of it all. Not as one of the few last ones left be- hind.
 What a silly way to write! This isn't love letter at all. I told you it wasn't. But I had a horrid dream last night and it has given me the shivers all day. I think some of it's hagorousness has crept into my pen No. I won't write it. I'll tell you all about it when I see you. And then you can put your darling strong arms around me and laugh at me for letting myself get frightened by silly dream wish this was a love letter. I never wrote one till this past week. So don't know how to say what I want to; to say all the wonderful things that are in my heart. But I love you, my own. And the whole world centres just around you. It always has. But now that you know it does. I feel so happy it frightens me. We're going to be together forever and ever and ever-and ever,-and then some more. Aren't we? Say sol
 Say so, beloved, and hold me very tight in your arms, very near to your heart when you say it. For today I'm foolish enough to want to be com forted little bit. I wish hadn't had that dream. It was all nonsense, wasn't