Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-11-13

"You mean to tell me you don't know old
Buck Twitchell?"
"You" gasped Darlington, starting back
and leaning heavily against the table. "Oh
-"
Thought was probably dead by now,
eh?" queried the man. No, not yet; but
soon. That's why I'm here. To see you,
| first"
Darlington stood staring as at ghost.
He tried to speak; but his contracting throat
refused. Buck" he managed to choke out
at last. eyes, now / see, now | see! But
| And over his eyes he pressed trembling
hand Through his mind flashed long ban
ished memories, memories of as close and
warm friendship as is often given men to
know; then recollections of a girl named
| Agnes, of rivalry, of loss. bitterness, dis
heartening rancor-the underlying cause, he
knew, of whole life failure as viewed from
the standpoint of the world. AS though put
ting from him an evil vision he flung his hand
outward and opened his eyes once more.
Twitchel was watching him, blinking behind
the dark hued glasses.
"She's dead" the sick man whispered.
"Two years ago, in Idaho. Money! spent
money like water; but it was no use. We
had no children. I've got nobody now-no-
BODY, but lust one greedy nephew. Nothing
at all to live for, nothing! You lost track of
of us. didn't you? But I've never lost
track of you; no. not even-well, no mat
ter. And now
The doctor pulled himself together.
Come" said he. 'let's get that coat Oft,
first of all. You mustn't sit here with 1t on.
When you go out again, you know
Twitchel laughed weakly. "As if any
thing like that mattered now!" said he.
kind of a relief not to have to bother about
ones health any more, Ell? Though it's
partly because of it I'm here-that and
some other things Skipper. old man, I'm in
bad fatally bad! What do you say that we
wipe things all out now and be square and
straight for just little while-til the end!
1t won't be-long!'
His voice sank to a whisper. In silence
the doctor took his hand once more. The
| two men looked intently at each other Car
rington nodded; the other feebly smiled.
"Sit down." said he at last. Sit down,
Skipper. Listen. I've got some things to
say that can't wait much longer.
I'm listening" answered the doctor.
| 7 DON'T ask you to forgive me, or any rub
Dish of that sort, the sick man began
after long pause "You and well, we
never used to talk hot air, and we won't be-
gin now. | want to put things to you
straight. and get straight, clear answer
that's all.
He stopped, as though for breath. The
doctor, like one in dream, sat staring at
him. Even now that he knew the mans
identity, he could scarcely force himself to
believe that in such body dwelt the soul of
the one-time vigorous, daring Bucknam
| Twitchel.
With renewed effort the man went on,
My life? That won't interest you. lit
| tie of everything, from the stage to politics,
| from cattle breeding to mining. Mostly
| everything failed, till five or six years ago,
| when the luck turned-turned after it was
| too late What does million or two mean
| to me now? She was wretcheC with me,
| after all. 1t turned out to be long, miser-
| able, horrible mistake. | suppose, in way,
| the mistake killed her Probably l was to
blame Each of us kills the thing he loves
YOU know. There's nothing truer in the
world than that line in the Ballad of Read
ing Gaol.' She died, anyhow. Left me with
nothing to fill my life but the emptiest thing
| of all-money!'
The doctor leaned slightly forward rested
one hand on the table, and asked, well?
Why do you tell me this:?"
Wait. Be patient. Money? Bosh! How
| money has wrecked and cursed me, ever
since lost everything | wanted money for!