The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1912-10-11
CHAPTER xlx-(continued).


Not altogether admirable had been
James Armstrong; outwardly success
full career. In much that is high and
noble and manly his actions-and his
characterized often been lacking, but
even the base can love, and sometimes
love transforms, if it be given a
chance. The passion of Cymon for Iph-
fgenia, made a man and prince out OF
the rustic boor, and his real love for
Enid Maitland might have done more
Tor Armstrong than he himself or any
one who knew him as he was, and
few there were who had such
knowledge of him, dreamed was
POSSIBLE. There was one thing that
love could not do however; it
could not make him a patient phil
osopher, good waiter. His rule OF
life was not very high, but in one way
i was admirable, in that prompt, bold
desire action was his chiefest charac-
teristic.
On this certain morning a month
after the heart-breaking disaster, his
mower Of passive endurance had been
strained to the vanishing point. The
great white range was flung in his face
like a challenge. Within its secret re-
cesses lay the solution of the mystery
Somewhere, dead or alive, beyond the
soaring rampant was the woman he
loved. It was impossible for him to
remain quiet any longer. Common
sense, reason, every argument that
had been adduced, suddenly became of
no weight. He lifted his head and
stared straight westward, his eyes
swept the long semicircle of horizon
across which the mighty range was
drawn like the chord Of gigantic arc
or the string of mighty bow. Each
white peak Knocked him, the insolent
resistibly to action.
by Heaven" he said under his
breath, rising to his feet, winter or
no winter. CO."
Robert Maitland had Offices in the
same building. Having once come to
determination, there was no more IN
certainty or hesitation about Arm
Strong's course. In another moment
he was standing in the private room Of
his friend. The two men were not
alone there. Stephen Maitland sat in
a low chair before another window
removed from the desk somewhat,
staring out at the range. The old
man was huddled down in his seat,
every line of his figure spoke Of grief
and despair OF all the places in Den
Yer. he liked best his brothers office
fronting the rampant of the noun
tains. and hour after hour he sat there
quietly looking at the SUBMITS, some
times softly shrouded in white, some
times swept bare by the fierce winter
gales that blew across them, some
times shining and sparkling so that
the eye scarce sustain their reflection
of the dazzling sun of Colorado; and
at other times seen dimly through
mists of whirling snow.
Oh, yes, the mountains challenged
him also to the other side of the
range. His heart yearned for his
child. but he was too old to make
the attempt. He could only sit and
pray and wait with such faint and fad
ing hope as he could still cherish un-
I'll the break up Of the spring came.
For the rest he troubled nobody; no
body noticed him, nobody marked him,
nobody minded hin. Robert Maitland
transacted his business a little more
softly, little more gently, that was
all Yet the presence of his brother
was living grief and a living re-
pfoach to him. Although he was quite
oiameess he blamed himself He had
hot known how he had grown to love
us niece until he had lost her. His
conscience accused him hourly, and
Se' ne knew not where he was at
tault or how he could have done diff
,eientiy. 1t was a helpless and hope
.esS situation. To him, therefore, en-
Tered Armstrong.
:. maitland" he began, 81 can't stand
an. any longer. I'm going into the noun
You are mad!"
can't help 1t. l can't sit here