The Wrangell sentinel., 1910-04-07
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 A I D
Novelized From
 Eugene Walters Great Play %

ever, what had he to hope from ffyiDgi The prison door from which he had shrunk with such dread before now was wide open to receive him, would receive him as inevitably as day would follow the night. He remembered hay ing read that man shot through the brain never felt the messenger which snuffed out his life. In the drawer of his bureau was a loaded revolver that he had long kept there for self protec tion in case of need. A movement of his finger would end all. A feeling almost of relief came with this thought and he quickened his steps. There was only one thing to fear now-that he would be caught before he could reach his room. AS be trudged along he found himself at the corner of the street in which the Harrises lived.
 Emma! How different she had been from the other! She had not taken; she had given. Love had not been dependent upon the bringing of gifts; it had been laTished upon him. When he had been Respondent she had com forted him: when things were going wrong she had encoura ged him: when his head ached she had rested it on her bosom. And it had come to this that he had lost her and, with her. all; that he was an outcast at her door.
 An insane desire to see her took pos session of him. It grew, became over towering, swept aside all the objec- tiors of reason. He was dying man, and nothing was denied to the dying. He retraced his steps and rang the bell. The door opened, and he ascend ed the well remembered stairs. Mrs. Harris flat was on the first landing. A maid who did not know him answered his ring.
 lIs Mrs. Brooks at home" he asked.
 The girl shook her head.
 'Mrs. Brooks? No; no one of that name lives heee. This is Mrs. Harris apartments. Mrs. Harris and Miss Beth have gone out. Miss Emma is in"
 Miss Emma! She had even discard ed his name, then! The blow was hard.
 "I would like to see her."
 "Your card. sir, please"
 "Tell her Mr. Smith is calling"
 The name had flashed to him with the conviction that she would not re- ceive him if he gave his own.
 He followed on the heels of the maid.
 You needn't bother," he said and brushed past her at the door of the parlor.
 Emma waa arranging some orna- ments on the mantelpiece. For mo- ment she did not recognize him. Then she recoiled. with little cry, from the wild eyed, disheveled specter who, hat in land. stood before her.
 "Yes. Emma. it's me. or what is left of me-" he said.
 What brings you here? How did you get in:" she demanded, with frightened eyes.
 Don't be afraid. You have nothing to fear from me-" he assured her. I'm going on a long jonpney-yes. a long, long journey, and I've come to say goodby. You'll never see me again. l shall be no more trouble to any body"
 'There is no need to come here. cannot receive you. You must go."
 Emma. l know how bad l was to you, how
 T cannot listen to your excuses. It is useless to recall the past. Please go!'
 Il have no wish to recall 1t. ask only your forgiveness-ask it as a dy- ing man. You cannot refuse"
 "You have been dead long years to me, and l have prayed God that might never see you again. l paid you in full for my freedom. Why have you come to trouble me? Go, please, and leave me in peace."
 All right" he said sorrowfuily. q will go. Goodby, Emma"
 With bowed head he went toward the door. stopped and turned to her with outstretched arms, pleading in his eyes.
 Emma. one kiss-my pardon and absolution before l die"
 No; oh, now
 She retreated, shuddering, terrified.
 He followed her. desperate. resolved to take by force what she would not give, to feel once more in his arms the little form that once had nestled there fondly.
 She read his purpose and shrieked.