The Washington herald., 1911-03-08


Hats will be trimmed for 81. and
other items of millinery, which are
as rule so expensive, can be bought
here at considerably under the regu-
lar cost.
sale of croSs-stripe curtains for
summer cottages. which sell regu-
larly at % cents a pair, is in progress
to-day in a department store in Penn
sylvania avenue. near Eighth street,
for 10 cents a strip. These are on a
cream ground with green stripes and
finished with tassels.
success beyond what she had attained
before. A strange sense of elation filled
her, and left no room for grief over her
shattered love. She felt then that no af-
lection was possible for man WHO so
scorned her and all she offered him.
And so in the morning she left home.
leaving no word of good-by for Harold.
If she wrote, she must write bitterly,
and it was no use increasing bitterness.
She preferred to have her departure un-
explained. Even the servants thought
she had gone for a night or so, and told
their master so when he ofIne back. For
time all went well with her. She went
abroad She wrote a little. easily bril-
liantly, without any Of the sense of effort
that hampered her at home. She lazed
awhile giving her Bohemianism full
sway. and resolutely putting aside all
remembrance of the past sitting mas
cent regrets, and living in a world of
books and art
Then, suddenly, her genius failed her.
Her brain seemed numb and dead She
wandered from place TO place seeking
inspiration, she toiled at composition.
but her work had no life, it sickened and
disgusted her. Then it was the remem-
branCe would not be stilled. that she real
lied the emptiness, the dreariness of life
without love, that she really understood
the wound that Harold had dealt her
when he tore up her loving words.
Travel afforded no relief, and so she
went back to London, hoping that in the
gray. the cheerlessneSs, the monotony of
London in November, some chord of her
dormant faculties might be stirred to life.
The very pain of familiar surroundings
might be stimulating; the poorness of the
lodgings she could afford would serve to
remind her that she must work il she
would live.
But, alas! in London it was no better.
Pain seemed intensified here, where the
happier portions of her love-story had
been lived. The very fact that she must
"TlIe 10 earn OdllE DredO seemed 10
paralyZe her brain. What work she ac-
complished was SO commonplace or so in
ane that she could not let il leave her
| hands. And so her life dragged wearily
until the Christmas Eve.
Now she sat staring at the fire with
real despair filling her heart Her niche
in the world was gone. There was no
love for her this Christmas; the work
which had been for her a raison d'etre
ba1 foil ha Mt
terly dreary. The Christmas message Of
joy merely emphasized her sorrow and
forlornneSS; her religion was as dead or
dormant as her intellect-inevitably So
Nothing seemed left to her in the present
and of the future she dared not think.
Once or twice an impulse to return to
Harold stirred within her. He would for
give her-he would love her again in his
own faithful way. But she stifled the
thought There would have to be ex-
plantations. Harold was not the man to
take anything for granted. He might
even lecture her. Not even for the sake
OF Harolds love could she submit to be
treated as a naughty child.
She reused herself to mend the fire, and
the movement reminded her that she had
made no provision for the morrow. She
supposed she must have something to eat,
and she rose wearily. She dreaded going
out into the brightly-lit streets, gay with
Christmas preparations, dreaded meeting
the stream of people full of pleaSurable
anticipations. Moreover, her eXchequer
was so woefully small, and her Christ
mas fare must be both limited and mean.
Once outside in the chill windswept
streets, however, her impulse was to lin
ger and gaze at the windows. Memories
of past Christmases crowded upon her,
Christmases when she and Harold had
gone together to buy their gifts for one
another. There was the time when she
had bought a writing set for his table
as a surprise against his return on Christ
mas Eve, and he had retaliated by TAX
ing her to choose a new ring. That had
been an imperiaIly happy night The
very memory Of 1t brought glow to her
numbed heart How well she remembered
the shop where they had bought it 1t
stood at the end of the very street she
was in at the moment. She felt fmpelled
to wander on and look in at the giittertng
array in the windows.
There was a ring. the very replica of the
one he had given her, only in sapphires
instead of diamonds and rubies. Per-
haps, had she stayed at home he might
have given her that tonight He knew
her love of precious stones, and his af-
fection was always seeking to crafty
her fancy. She gazed as IL fascinated.
Suddenly an arm was thrust through
hers, hand grasped her own IN WARM
firm grip that sent the blood rushing
through her veins. She did not need to
look up. She knew who held her as II
he would never again let her go.
And so for a moment or two they stood
in silence. Presently Ethel stole glance
at him, and the tears rose to her eyes
his face was so deathly white Perhaps
he saw the tears, for he came to the
rescue in his old breezy way.
rs 1t the sapphires?" he asked.
Ethel nodded; she could not speak.
Come inside" he commanded.
s''Why " she faltered-
It's Christmas Eve" he explained. with
laugh that choked with joy. Last year
1 got a brooch couldn't think OF any
thing else. and you weren't here TO
choose"
Ethel went into the shop in a dream.
She was meeting with a love and for
giveness far beyond her widest tmagfn-
ings. Sheer respect and admiration for
her husband held her dumb.
The ring bought. they paced homeward.
Ethel never once thought OF doing any
thing else. Harold was winning her. con-
duering her once more as he had done In
the past. only pulling the bonds OF love
tighter than ever before. and she began