The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-04-27

| ZIG h1Ilo, III WHICH lOTe ne was uSop-
ly proficient. But to-day, not a
word. They rode in silence except
for the occasional orders given by
Jem as to walking hill, or remount-
| ing.
| At the time, it did not occur to YER
non to be grateful for the silence
which was so acceptable to her. Her
mind was off upon its own puzzling
excursions. She was unconscious of
the complete difference in her own
manner, as between yesterday and to-
day. She did not think about it, one
way or the other. She was rejecting
that a few miles of railway alone d.
vided her from the vehemence Of Lilo
nefs devotion. That was a thought
of such an arresting nature that her
| mind was drawn into it's orbit, and
circled helplessly round and round it.
| At the turning that led to the
Green. Jem abruptly took leave and
rode on, leaving Vernon to accom-
plish her last quarter of a mile alone
Evelyn was taking up bulbs in the
front garden, attired in very large
apron. But she left her occupation
when she found that Vernon's errand
was serious. They went together into
the hall, and found sunny window
seat; and Vernon, for the first time IN
her life, found herself pouring out
her Utmost soul
| She told her friend all the story of
her childhood, of Lionel's becoming
a member of the household, of her
fathers death, and his sudden discov-
cry of his love for her, of the compi
cations of his former marriage, and
her departure from Golden Ridge to
see the world. And now his pursuit.
| Her recital, at first broken, grew
more coherent as she proceeded. She
owned that she had wished to speak
of it all before, but disliked being
silly and sentimental. Lionel, and
] falling in love, and getting married,
had seemed to be q long way off, di-
vided both by space and time. the two
human barriers. And now, all was
very near: suddenly, unexpectedly, all
was very near. And she was not
ready. She recoiled. She wanted to
put her fingers in her ears, to bid
Lionel go away, and come back in
three years. time, when she should
have learned the world little.
b, .L am not fit to be married." she
said despairingly. 81 have no con-
| victlons, no definite aims. I have just
begun, with you. to reflect upon life.
But 80 little, so haitingly.I must have
| time to think
"Have you ever thought-about di-
vorce?" said Evelyn timidly.
/ The voice she used was unlike the
tones Of her usual calmness. 1t thrill
ed with emotion. Vernon looked
quickly at her.
| "N-no: never have. One feels
of course, that nobody, neither God
nor man, could expect one of the two
to keep faithful to an unfaithful
partner"
you feel that@'
| Doesn't everybody"
| Evelyn looked down. The sun,
streaming in at her easement, rested
| upon the unfaded beauty of her gold
en- hair, in its broad, straight, soft
sweep from one side of her fine head
| to the other. Her face, half in
shadow, did not show the strong lines
one traced upon it in a strong light.
She might have been a lovely young
woman of five-and-twenty-ch
| enough for men to pursue with Gag
erness or worship with devotion.
| She raised her large blue eyes to
Vernon's honest face. Vernon" said
she, 'if you wish, will tell you
| about myself. My case is not very
4 like yours, but I think somehow that
It might help you in coming to de-
cision. Would you like to hear it?"
Vernon caught her hand between
both her own. mot II it pains you
too much! would give g. great deal
to hear 1t, but not if it hurts you to
| tell me-
| mo; it will not hurt, except as it
may hurt mother to take her dead
chiid's toys and frocks from thea
drawer where she keeps them wrap
ped and perfumed. I do not often
open my drawer. But to-day I feel
| that I can. I want to make you un-
derstand how much there is to be
said for what seems like a hard rule.
I want to show you how wide life is,
and how deep the hidden things are.
1t seems to me that the modern view
is SO incurably superficial"
| There was a silence, while the lit
tie easement curtain bent inwards
with the breeze, sweet with the scent
of new-mown grass
| Begin" whispered Vernon, her
arm about Evelyn's shoulder.
Il was just Twenty-Five" said Eve
lyn, when I found myself in London,
living in a fat, with a chaperon for
the look of the thing, but completely
my own mistress. Until then, most of
my life had been spent abroad. My
mother was an invalid kind of per-
son, left widow, upon what she con-
| sidered most inadequate means She
| wished to educate me as well as it
4 could hn nd CHI -