The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-05-15

depends on me. You know you
 hold that. if you care for person
 and know you mustn't, you can con-
 quer your will, and leave off-don't you? Well then, doesn't it follow
 that, if you don't care. you can con- quer your will, and make yourself" | Evelyn looked unconvinced. "Ver-
 non." she said. you are not a bit like
 yourself. know you are not hap py."
 l "No. I'm not-yet." replied the girl. "I am having the sacrifice without
 the joy, so far. I hope it will come after a bit, but at present. I'm pret- ! ty miserable"
 .'Now, young person, we can't have this',' said Evelyn, peremptoriiy. Come up to lunch with me. and tell
 me all about it.''
 'I can't. You can't help, Eve lyn-not even you. I have got to go through this alone. must go through it. You don't understand" will you come if I promise not
 to argue. nor pump you, but to talk
 of other things? Do come! want you to come"
 But I want to go and see Father Conroy"
 That will do exactly. He is com look at the first set of plans for the new church"
 Vernon's eye kindled; and then
 she sighed, while cloud rolled over | the new church"
 Why, I thought you said you
 should persuade MT. Gladwyn to stay in this neighborhood?
 t'Oh, I have quite changed my mind about that, am going back
 to Golden Ridge; and then you know
 after a. year or two, I shall have
 forgotten this place. and it will all
 seem like dream-like bit out of
 somebody else's life-not real, at all!''
 Well, anyhow you must come
 home now.' said Evelyn, with more
 decision than ever, linking her arm into her friends. There is one piece | of news which I must tell you as we go; that is if it is not already com | mon property. But no. I think it
 can hardly yet have reached Miss Tarlton."
 What is it?''
 That poor wretched MT. Trent the widower-was round here this morning. to tell Father Conroy to | put up the banns for himself and
 Olive FIetcherr'
 Vernon stopped short in the road while her features expressed first Iamazement, then a sudden rapture of
 relief which caused her face to light
 en perceptibly. "Oh" was all that she said.
 and of course Father Conroy was re- luctant at first to do as he asked. But he said that if he went on living  alone in that house he should go rav- ing mad. If I have lost my wife, I
 may as well have my children he
 said, and perhaps if I right the girl,
 the Almighty may have g. little mer- cy on me, and let them grow up to
 be a comfort to me-" Vernon drew a long, long breath. "Oh Evelyn, does it not seem extra | ordinary to speak of .righting' the
 girl in that way?. Ills she will | ing?' Willing? The village will not
 hold her. It would be ghastly if :t | were not so pathetic. Poor old
 Trent! What a rod for his own back
 he is preparing! The Almighty may
 have mercy on him, but I'm sure
 Olive won't, then once she is his
 wife, "How hard it is, in this world, to
 know what is right and what is
 wrong!" cried Vernon. Say rather. how hard it is, wrong
 once done, to hinder its conse- quences," replied Evelyn. "I don't
 say to undo it, because what is once
 done can never be undone, whether | for good or evil; but even to do any
 thing at all to hinder it's rushing
 over everything. You know the say ing about spilled milk, Spilled evil
 is just like that. It may be wiped
 up, but there is no means known to
 man by which it could be put back
 into the jug again pure and clean
 as before. That is a platitude, of
 course. But if people would remem- Der it, they would often, believe,