Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-12-18


OH an impulse he answered.
With scarcely a volition on his own part
he found himself back in the parched city
from which he had fed so light-heartedly
a few hours before. 1t had the unfamiliar
look OF a place that has been long for
gotten.
The next day, after fretting some hours
most unprof1tably at his Office. his long
ing to somehow make Virginia suffer as
he was suffering mastered him, and with
sudden resolve he caught an early tram
for the lake. What he meant to say 10
her was not very clear in his own mind.
Indeed, his feelings were wholly chaotic.
Yet-he wanted to see her. The habit of
carrying his hurts to her for healing had
been SO easily acquired The word await
ing him at the lake was therefore a new
and unexpected blow. Virginia was gone.
Gomez" he repeated, blankly.
AN hour ago." Mrs. Stafford said. with
face ostentatiously clear OF curiosity.
'She received a telegram this morning
from her mother In Richmond, asking her
to come home at once. Her sister is an
invalid, you know, and they were alarmed
about her condition. She took the first
train possible, and asked me to explain TO
all her friends"
will you express my sympathy when
you writer he said, formally.
1T must be really serious" reflected
Mrs. Stafford, watching him depart.
AS he followed the footpath to the sta
ton. where Virginia must have passed an
hour before. his eye was caught by a
book fallen among the brown underbrush.
4 hc ce,o no. ar,
the hammock the day before-the BOOK
from which Warwick's photograph. with
its fatal revelation. hac fallen. He picked
it up. 1t was a collection Of Browning s
love poems. Virginia Jackson's name was
on the fly leaf, In Warwick's well known
hand. The book fell open at "A Lovers
Quarrel" and his eye was caught by the
words:
Foul be the world or fair
More or less, how can / care?
'Tis the world the same
For my praise or blame.
And endurance Is easy there.
Wrong in the one thing rare
Oh, it is hard to bear!'
He read it twice over. No words of his
own could have expressed SO completely
MS sense OF wrong ST virginia 8 hanQS.
1t was not merely a personal hurt. She
had been the one thing rare to his heart
and she had failed him. 1t was best that
she had gone. Nothing could ever restore
his radiant dream, and he could not bear
to accept anything lower. For him, that
part Of life was forever done.
So he grit up his will, went back to his
law Office and the old ways Of living, and
.ried not to see the weary difference that
there was in the world. The only thing
to believe In was ones self and ones own
work. He bent his mind to his work with
logged resolution; and he could only
groan over his weakness when he found,
as happened more than once, that the
hands Of the cock had travelled far while
he must have been staring through the
printed page before him into space where
a girl with face 4 hurt pride looked out
at him, crying. His life-his heart
break!-You think only of him.
One night his artificial composure broke
beneath him. 1t might have been the
utter WEAKNESS Of his struggle, or 1t
might have been tho bald sentiment Of
the tune which the hurdy-gurdy on the
corner was grinding out AS he listened,
the love he had denied swept over him.
With every repressed throb Of his brain,
with every beat Of his heart, he cried out
tor her. He bent his head upon his hands
ana the hours swept on to the gray dawn