Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-11-20

thing. Goodby." His voice broke and, |
dropping her hand, he started hastily toward |
the door.
"Phil, Phil, come back! You don't know, |
you can't know, what you are dolng! Her
voice, in which was concentrated the love of
a lifetime, compelled him, and unwillingly |
he turned toward her again. "Oh, Phil, |
have hungered, l have starved, tor you all
these years. Don't you know what | mean, |
don't you see that 10"
"Stop!" Numbered Philip. He would
have saved her from her own wild words; but
she paid no more heed to him than if he had
not spoken.
Il will say it, and she sprang from her
chair and drew herself up proudly to her full
height. Il love you. | love you, Phil, and
glory in it! All, forget the past! and her
voice dropped to the tender pleading tones
of little child. Forget everything but
that the woman whom you once loved loves
you with her whole soul! All she asks is to
pick those violets yet, Cosse'? When | saw
that play and heard those words, said to
myself, Yes, perhaps that is the way it will
be with Phil and me some day. Wen pick
those violets yet, those flowers of our love
and happiness which l once passed by
"Phil, you don't say anything! You
stand like man of stone! You do not come
near me, you do not touch me, you do not
take me in your arms and tell me the only
thing in the world l want to hear! Oh, my
love, my dearest, what is it! Is there's
there" she whispered, "some one else?"
MO, Dear, there is no one else He stood
~ as she had said, like man of stone.
"There never has been anyone else. | think
there never will be. | loved you" Betty
caught her breath sharply. Il love you
now
phil she cried joyously.
I'm way"
"In way!" she echoed duly.
Eyes, as memory, as the sweetest men,
DRY of my youth; but that is all. There is
no present in this love, no future, only a
ast,-the happiest, sweetest, saddest past
a man could know. Had l dimly guessed
even half of all that you have just said, |
should never have come here to-day. l
hesitated about coming. Something seemed
greet that did not obey my first impulse.
There was infinite sadness in his voice.
Il think too wish that you had. There
is nothing left me now, not even memory.
There was no reproach in her voice, only
regret as eternal as the sea.
II think my heart is dead, he said slowly,
dead at the hands of the woman | loved.
Little girl, don't you know that for such
death there is no resurrection? Even now,
when you were saying words | should have
given my hearts blood to have heard you
say years ago, my chief feeling was wound
ed pride that the woman whom had loved
should so humiliate herself. 1t was harder
for me to hear those words than for you to
say them. did not exult in them, triumph
in them. l should give my very life to be
able to love you as | once did. But that's
all over and done with. love your beauty
and your charnl-it is Joy to find you UNI
changed in that respect. 1t hurts me cruelty
to think that anyone was ever anything but
kind and good to you. But it is all in
vague, impersonal sort of way-it is entirely
out of myself. 1 can't explain it. Over and
done with, over and done with" He shook
his head regretfully.
"Goodby, Betty. There is nothing left to
say but goodby and God bless you'll" He
knelt beside her and, taking her face in his
hands, kissed her on the lips. Then, without
another word, he walked swiftly to the door,
opened it, and closed it behind him softly,
as one who goes out of the presence of death.
THROUGH the closed door came the
sound of heavy, heartbroken sobs. He
stood there in the hall hesitant, doubtful,
irreSO11te "A11 that I loved in all the