Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1910-09-19
CHAPTER v.

what Is left when honour IL lostr'
-Pubiius 6yrus.
T WILIGHT was falling over The
Birches, and Edward Carleton,
seated alone on the piazza,
gazed out over the darlkening fields into
a world of ever blending shadows and
onward-oreeping dusk. Always, as
long as the weather permitted, after
his evening meal, he loved to sit there,
putting quietly at his big, ~old-fashioned,
curved pipe, and letting his memory
roam back at will through scene after
scene from the long years that now
lay behind him; or sometimes, more
rarely, living In the present, content
merely to gaZ out m biossoming
flower. and tree in full leaf; to watch
the fiery colors OF the sunset glow and
die in the far-off West; to hear from
the orchard across the road a robin
singing his goodnight song; to listen to
the thousand wonderful secrets which
nature at the las loves to whisper to
those who have lived their lives pure
in deed and word, and who have
journeyed far onward into the shadow,
still kindly and serene, with the won
derful dreams of childhood making
beautiful their minds, and in their
hearts the faith of littlet children.
Often Henry Carleton sat there with
him, but tonight the old man vas
alone. An hour ago a message had
come from Henry saying that no would
not be home until the following eve
ning-perhaps not even then-that bust
ness matters of importance had arisen,
making 1t necessary that he should re-
main in town. Characteristic of Henry
Carleton's unfaiiing thoughtfulness, the
message had been, n 1t was OF his
brother, and. with a half-sigh. of Jack
as well, that Edward Carleton was
thinking now, as the darkness pressed
closer and closer around the old house
that had sheltered for so many genera
lions so many fathers and sons Of the
Carleton blood.
From the entrance to the gravel
walk. the sound of footsteps smote
briskly on his ear and he glanced up
to see a tall and familiar figure COM
ing up the path. A moment later, and
Jack had hastily mounted the steps,
scarce seeming to heed his fathers
greeting. and speaking at once, in a
voice strangely unlike his own.
Father" he said. where's Henry"
The old man gazed at him in sur
prise. He's not at home, jack he
answered, and then, with a ~momentary
foreboding, What Is it, my boy? Moth
ing wrong?"
Jack laughed a little grimly. mo,
nothing like that" he answered. Pm
in trouble, that's all. I've stayed too
long in q falling market and got
caught. If I can't get help from Henry
I guess I'm done"
In the darkness Edward Carleton
reached out his hand and laid it on his
sons shoulder. my dear boy" he
said, 'Tm sorry. If only Henry has
the money available. But 1 DOM know.
These must be terrible times for every
one. Tell him If there's any way he
asked him to do 80. I'm so sorry,
Jack-so sorry"
With what was for him unusual feel
ing, Jack took his fathers hand in both
his own. THANK you, father" he said,
1T know you are. It's all my own fault,
of course. I don't deserve any help.
But It's all come so suddenly. l neve
thought
He broke off abruptly, then spoke
again. We'll. I suppose / must get
back In town, I haven't much time. 1
never dreamed of not finding Henry
here. I'm sorry l can't stay. Good
night, father" and he was gone.
It was nearly two hours later when
he hastened down Adams street toward
the Harmon Building, where high over
head In many a window, lights ordi-
narifY ~eXtinguiahed by s or 6 o'clock.